‘Apple,’ Plum repeats patiently, slowly. ‘Apple.’

The fruit sits on the table, shiny in the sunlight. Magnolia knows its flesh is rock hard — it’s too early for it to be ripe. But it looks lovely — spring-green, with just a small patch of pink. The Princess stares at it strangely, though. Magnolia wishes she could ask, could understand why, but they do not yet have enough vocabulary in common.

The Princess repeats the word. It is not a very good approximation, but she genuinely tries, and Plum smiles in encouragement.

Magnolia does not need to smile on purpose. She is glad enough already to be here, instead of work — to be able to lounge in the sun, and look at the Princess freely. She and Plum wouldn’t have been able to come see her, if not for Orchid and Peony helping them finish their chores early. Magnolia wanted to invite them to serve the Princess, as well, but in the end she decided against the risk. The Princess may appear amiable, but she is still royalty, and Magnolia fears to impose.

Yet she wonders now if that fear was unfounded, after all. When the sisters came in and made to sit on the floor, the Princess motioned them up and into chairs. She does not flinch if their fingers accidentally brush hers. She seems shy, but she smiles at them, and Magnolia does not want to leave. This is easier than she would’ve thought, and more natural. It is easy to forget the distance, forget the finery this girl is wearing, and let her fall into place as one of them, just another sister they’ve been missing all this time…

No. This is just fancy, the way Magnolia would like it to be, rather than what is. The Princess is still a stranger, and a noble one at that. It is important to be wary.

‘Pear.’ Plum takes the next fruit out of the basket they brought. It was Plum’s idea to teach the Princess about food first. Food is a necessity as well as a pleasant topic, so it should have been a safe choice. But for some reason the Princess is restless.

She repeats the words readily enough, though, and soon they manage to get her to converse briefly with Magnolia, pretending to ask for dessert. Magnolia tries her best to encourage this effort, both to appease a possibly dangerous noble, but also because it seems to entertain her, and Magnolia does like to see her happy. But something about the Princess worries her more and more.

Plum notices it, too.

‘Are you cold?’ she asks. They have not dealt with this word yet, but she mimes it by shivering.

The Princess looks unsure, but then suddenly sneezes.

Magnolia and Plum exchange worried glances. If the Princess falls ill on their watch, they could be in trouble.

‘Come inside, my lady,’ she says hastily, getting up and motioning towards the door. ‘Come into the warmth.’

She’s not sure why she keeps talking, knowing as she does that it will not be understood. It feels rude to be silent, somehow. Magnolia leads the Princess indoors and upstairs, into the room where her servant awaits. Plum comes in soon, too, bringing a teapot and a set of cups with her. Magnolia can see her sister’s hands tremble slightly while making tea. Plum tries to follow the custom of the Princess’s own land, but the description of it she found in a book was not very detailed, and Magnolia sees the eyes of the Princess widen slightly as she watches. Plum must’ve done some of it incorrectly. But the Princess does not protest, and takes the tea without a word. She does not let go of the cup, and Magnolia wonders if her hands are cold. The Princess is expected to leave in the evening, but Magnolia is no longer sure it will happen as planned.

Orchid is counting. The heels are tricky, and she’s afraid to make a mistake. She is not looking forward to redoing half a sock, if she muddles it up and fails to notice in time.

She sits outside, next to their mother. Orchid’s hands have been scrubbed into whiteness, to avoid soiling the wool. Knitting wool in this weather is not comfortable, but there is little time left until the fair, and she wants to finish as many items as she can.

Peony is working in the garden. Orchid sees the top of her hat, bobbing up and down as she weeds, moving along the rows. As long as this weather holds — as long as it does not get too cold, too early — the harvest should be plentiful this year. They may not have much, but at least they have that.

Their mother is humming under her breath, but it’s not a song Orchid recognizes. It is only little noises, incongruous, disjointed and out of tune. But it sounds like she is content, and Orchid tries to take heart from that.

It has been a long time. Underneath their cottage lies a small cellar. In its floor, the girls have dug out a hole. They are careful to hide it from sight, each time after they’ve added something — first goes a board, then a layer of earth, packed so it looks untouched, and then a barrel. Nobody knows that the hole there, apart from Orchid and Peony. They put all they earn in there, all they can spare. By now, it is almost done. Soon they will have enough for travel to the capital, and to pay someone there.

They do not know yet who that will have to be. It may be a witch, but they would need a strong one — stronger than Pine’s mother, for one, and by quite a margin. When it happened, and their mother wandered out of the forest lost and wordless, they brought her to the witches’ hut immediately, dropping everything else. But it was no good. Orchid had never known there was something Pine’s mother could not do, but she learned that day. She remembers the way the witch’s face went white as milk, remembers the panic in her voice when she screamed at Pine to keep away. Only when she chased them out of the house, and commanded them to stand some distance away, did she tell them what it was. A curse, she said — and powerful enough to drag her down with it, if she tried to touch it. There was no hope of her lifting it, she said. No hope of seeing where it had sprung from, either. A far more powerful witch would be needed to do those things. Maybe in the city they can find one such.

If they do not, then the doctors would be their next choice. Sometimes science can cure what magic cannot. Orchid is not sure how that works, but she has read of it in Plum’s books, so there is that hope, too. Doctors and witches cost about the same, so either way they should have enough money for one try.

Every time a traveler from the city comes through the village, Peony or Orchid go to ask them about city prices. They have to do this stealthily, of course, so as not to alert this stranger to the fact that they have money. Nobody knows they do, or at least nobody knows for a fact. Their friends probably suspect, but they can be trusted, and so do not count.

Mother gets up and wanders indoors, as randomly as she does everything now. She walks slowly, shuffling, the way a much older woman might. Orchid drops the sock to her knees for a moment, giving herself a short rest. She knows she must not be lazy, but she has learned from experience that having no breaks at all results in less work done, in the end. She stares towards the square and the tavern. Her eyesight is not great, but the distance is small enough that she can still make out the figures emerging from the large front door. She cannot see their faces, but their dresses tell her who they are. The faded pink is Magnolia’s, the blue is Plum, and the poppy-red is Iris. The honey-colored brocade, glittering in the sun, is unknown to her, but it looks so luxurious that it must belong to the Princess.

Orchid stands up, to see better. Two guards follow the girls as they walk out of the yard, and into the square. As they draw nearer, Orchid can finally see the Princess’s face.

She is younger than Orchid thought — younger than Orchid herself, for sure, though still an adult. Her hair is not an odd foreign color after all, but the same black they all have. Yet she still looks a stranger. She is pretty, in a fine-featured, ethereal way that Orchid is not used to seeing. Maybe they all look like that over there, in the country the Princess comes from. The warm, sunny color of her dress should bring out the blush on her cheeks, but instead she only looks more pale, and behind the smile she gives Magnolia Orchid thinks lies worry.

‘Hello,’ Plum says when they are close enough for speech. They stop by the gate. ‘The Princess wished to be given a tour, before taking her leave.’

Orchid remembers herself and drops to her knees. But it only takes a moment or so for Magnolia to call out —

‘She wishes you to stand up! Or at least I think that’s what she wants…’

Orchid rises. The Princess is talking to Plum in a low voice, but Plum looks more confused than anything. This is when Peony comes up, dusting the earth off her knees.

‘Can you tell her I apologize for my appearance?’ she asks the girls. ‘But, you know, this will happen if you show up with no warning… And am I not to kneel either, then?’

‘I don’t think she cares for that,’ Plum says. ‘She seems annoyed by all the kneeling. Must be because she’s one of the younger princesses. They aren’t treated like this, you know, at that court of theirs. Not important enough. This must all be strange to her.’

‘She wanted to talk to people,’ Magnolia says. ‘I think. I think that’s what she meant.’

‘Talk?’ Peony echoes. ‘How, when she doesn’t know the language?’

‘Well, that’s why she’s learning,’ Plum says, a little defensively. ‘Why don’t you try? Say hello to her.’

The Princess stands very straight, and despite the heat of the day she shivers a little. Magnolia touches her shoulder in support, and Orchid can see the guards glaring at this, but they remain silent.

‘Hello, my lady,’ Orchid says with a bow. The Princess gives her a nervous smile.

‘Hello,’ she says. Her voice is soft. ‘What… is your name?’

When both sisters tell her, she stares blankly, then turns to Plum.

‘Explain?’

Iris heaves an audible sigh, earning another glare from the guards.

‘You have any peonies around here?’ she asks. ‘No? Didn’t think so. Magnolia, you brought the slate, right?’

‘He did.’ Magnolia turns to one of the guards with a solicitous gesture. He says nothing still, but from somewhere inside his many layers of clothing a writing board appears, and a thin piece of chalk. ‘Thank you.’ Magnolia hands the things to Iris, who starts sketching. ‘There should be some wild orchids in the forest, this time of year, but I don’t think anyone here has any in their garden…’

‘The miller might,’ Peony says. ‘But that’s too long a walk for the lady, I suppose.’

The Princess keeps turning from one to another as they talk, and there is an alert expression in her eyes. But she does seem pale. When she sneezes again, Orchid can tell Magnolia is worried. It looks like only a small cold, not something Orchid herself or any of the other villagers would ever care about. But nobles are more frail.

‘You should bring her to Pine,’ Peony says, apparently thinking the same. ‘They can take care of her there.’

But Magnolia shakes her head.

‘Too far,’ she says. ‘It’s a hot day, and in this heavy dress… Hopefully all she needs is to just lie down for a bit.’ She glances at the guards, who are close enough to hear her every word. ‘You know I wouldn’t have taken her outdoors even now, what with how she looks. But she wished to go, and I can’t say no to her, can I?’

Iris’s pictures are done, and the Princess grabs the slate in delight and shows it to the others, saying something that sounds like approval. Iris colors a little, looking pleased.

‘No need to say no to the lady,’ Peony says, pulling the gate open. ‘We can help you with the tour, can’t we? Won’t she like more guides? I remember a lovely little meadow by the pond — I bet you don’t know the place. No orchids, but the lilies are beautiful.’

‘I know it,’ Iris interjects.

‘Well, I can still show her, can’t I?’ Peony says with a shrug. ‘You can’t just keep the lady all to herself if she wants to talk to people. We are people, too.’

Magnolia starts waving her arms about, trying to convey to the Princess the idea of their new destination. The guards look on. Iris sets to drawing again. Orchid hesitates, considering whether they should really go. There is still much work left to do, and she does not like to take any more breaks than she must. Still, it is not every day that you can meet a Princess. They can spare a little bit of time now, when they are almost done.

Orchid locks the door as she leaves. Even after all this time, it still feels wrong to her to have to lock up her own mother, but there have been incidents.

Love is for commoners.

Jade knows this, yet she still hopes. She knows nothing of her future husband — not his age, nor his looks, not even his name. She suspects it may be because they haven’t chosen yet — haven’t decided which son she is to marry. She would not be informed if that was so. She knows she has no right to expect him to love her. This marriage is not for love. For her kind, they never are. Yet her heart still beats fast, and she has not quite given up yet.

Love lives in songs and poetry, in beautiful paintings and old legends. Jade is not even sure it there is a place for it in reality, but she still wishes. There is something special about the idea, something that calls to her — in the air, in her dreams. It must be fever that makes her so wistful — fever, and all these new faces around her. She should have known better than to walk around when she was already growing ill, but she could not pass on the chance.

There is warmth when they look at each other, warmth she envies so much it hurts. Yet they look like that at her, too, as if she is one of them — as if she is good enough, for once, for someone. It is ridiculous to seek acceptance from peasants. Of course she would be good enough for them, with her blood and her status. But Jade has been so starved for affection, much more so than she realized, that being shown even a little bit has undone her completely. She feels shame over it now, yet she knows she would do the same again and again, if she could — would stay here forever, if she could.

She will not be able to, she knows. But at least she can dream.

In the small mirror, she can see her own face is tired and grey, yet there is also a wild gleam in her eyes. She hands the mirror to the servant, who hangs it back up on the wall.

‘Try to sleep, my lady,’ the servant says. Jade wonders if she disapproves of her Princess spending an entire day with mere peasants. It is impossible to tell.

Jade is left alone to help her rest better, but sleep doesn’t come. She watches the candle as it grows shorter and its light descends ever so slowly. The night will seem very long. The shadows shiver a little, and the air feels charged, as if before a storm. Yet the skies are clear.

Where the candlelight does not reach, Jade can see moonlight falling onto the floor. Has her servant forgotten to draw the curtains, or is it the way of this land to sleep like this? Jade does not call out. The moon has risen high, and the outside air seems like a noon reflected in a dark pond, the moon itself a false sun — a trick. Jade blinks at the light — the lights — the strange, eerie lights that float through the room towards her.

She stares into them, and hears without hearing. It is not quite music, but it is calling to her. She stretches out a hand, and a light lands on her fingers. It feels weightless, and soft as down. Jade gets up.

The outer edges of her vision ripple, like a river that’s just out of sight. The lights swirl around her, blue and green and purple. She must go now.

There is a tree growing right outside her window. There are windows below, too, but she knows she will not be seen, even if she does not quite understand how she knows it. Jade climbs out, hugging the branches awkwardly to herself. Princesses do not climb trees, and she has no experience with this. But the lights help, and she makes her way down without slipping once.

The night is quiet and warm. Jade walks barefoot along the street and towards the forest. The village lies sleeping, the houses all dark and unresponsive. They certainly will not see her go. Her feet are growing cold, and the stones of the road hurt her soles, but she ignores it all. This is much too important.

The lights lead her into the forest, into the darkness under the trees. There is a part of her that still remembers, that understands she should be afraid, but the fear never comes.

Jade disappears into the woods, and the lights disappear with her.