She stifled a laugh and turned towards the next girl in line, twirled around, gripped loose hands with the lady’s partner and found herself returned into Jest’s waiting hands. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered. ‘You’re . . .’

He grinned. ‘A wanted man?’

She ducked beneath the raised hands of the next couple. Rotated back. Curtsied.

‘Exactly,’ she said as her palm found Jest’s again.

‘Good,’ he said, his dimples showing. ‘I hoped you might still feel that way.’

They finished the rest of the dance in silence, and by the end of it Cath knew she was wearing a silly, dazed expression, but she couldn’t escape it. Jest leaned over her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckle, and in that touch she felt a slip of paper being pressed into her palm.

He stepped away, watching as she looked down at the piece of crumpled confetti, just like those he had once scattered across the ballroom.

On it was printed a tiny red heart.

She wrapped her fingers around it and looked up again. She swallowed hard, bracing herself. ‘I’m going to accept the King’s proposal.’

Jest’s face froze. They stood in agonizing silence, staring at each other for a long moment, too long, before the storm came into his gaze. He moved closer, his toes brushing against the hem of her gown. She had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

‘You promised,’ he growled. ‘You promised that you wouldn’t.’

‘That was before you ruined any chance we might have had of being accepted – by my parents or the court or the entire kingdom. They all think you’re a liar and a cheat. They all think you’re a villain.’

‘I was trying to save your reputation,’ he whispered back at her. ‘Besides, you made it clear at the festival that a courtship between us would never be accepted, no matter what I did.’

She licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement, creating a flutter in her stomach that was painful to ignore. ‘You’re right, it wouldn’t. Which is why I have to accept the King.’

Hurt crossed his face, drawing deep wrinkles across his brow. ‘Catherine—’

‘Then, when I give you my heart, it will truly be the heart of a queen.’

He sucked in a breath and started to shake his head, but she ploughed on.

‘And you can take it back to Chess and end your war. That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?’

‘But—’

She inched closer, letting herself be drawn into his shadow. ‘Maybe there is no amount of magic that could ever make this a possibility,’ she whispered against his jaw. He was trembling, but so slightly she could only tell when she stood so close. ‘If I am not to have happiness, let me at least have a purpose. Let me give you the heart of a queen.’

She watched him swallow, feeling the faint warmth of his breath on her cheek.

Then she stepped back and turned away. His hand grabbed for hers but she pulled it out of reach and slipped into the swirl of masks and dancers.

Her heart was hammering. She wanted him to call out for her, to stop her, almost as much as she wanted him to let her do this while her courage held.

A trumpet blared across the ballroom. Over the heads of the gentry she could see the White Rabbit beside the throne. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, presenting His Royal Majesty, the King of Hearts!’

The crowd applauded and drew towards the dais. Cath crumpled the slip of paper in her fist and couldn’t help looking back at Jest . . . but he was gone.

She spun in a circle, searching the feather-and-rhinestone masks for a black top hat and yellow eyes.

‘Catherine.’

Her mother’s voice halted her stampeding thoughts. An arm fell around her shoulders and ushered her towards the stage.

‘It’s time,’ the Marchioness said, her voice light with joy. ‘Oh, my dear girl, it’s happening, finally!’ She shoved her way through the crowd. Catherine felt her body going numb with every step she took towards the King, who had started to make a speech, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t feel the pinching of her mother’s fingers. She didn’t notice the curious faces watching her pass by.

It’s time.

She was going to accept the King.

She was going to be the Queen of Hearts.

She looked back a few more times, but the crowd had closed in behind them and there was no sign of Jest. It was as if his being there had been nothing more than a dream.

Inhaling a deep breath, Cath tried not to be hurt. If they had more time, would he have tried harder to dissuade her from this plan? Would she have let him?

No. She wanted this. She wanted to give him what he had come for.

Her heart belonged to him either way, whether it was the heart of a baker or a queen. At least this way it could serve some purpose beyond her trivial life.

She began to feel like she was above it all, looking down on a stranger. Watching herself being shoved on to the platform. Seeing the guests applaud without sound and the King take one of her hands and pull her to the centre of the stage. It was another girl standing pale and speechless. It was another girl sacrificing her happiness for something greater than herself.

Another girl accepting that some things were never meant to be.

Her heart shrivelled to a prune.

‘As you all know,’ the King was saying, bouncing on his toes, ‘our kingdom has faced some horrible things these past weeks, but it is my privilege to take your thoughts from these f-frightening times, and instead give us all cause to celebrate.’ He beamed. ‘This lady that stands before you has shown herself to be brave and gallant, and I—’ His eyes glistened as he peered up at Catherine. He squeezed her hand. ‘I both admire and adore her.’