Princess Antimony Westerguard of the Southern Isles was the youngest of King Hjalmar's ten children. Hjalmar himself was the oldest of thirteen brothers, nearly all of whom had several children of their own. Since two of his brothers and their families lived in the castle with in and at least one was constantly visiting, the castle was often full of aunts, uncles, and cousins of varying degrees. Each holiday season, before his brothers joined him at the castle, Hjalmar would remind his children of the names of each aunt, uncle, and cousin and expect them to be memorized. It was urgent to know this, he told them, to avoid insulting anyone who might be important, and family was always important. All of Antimony's brothers and sisters agreed, and they looked forward to seeing their kin again. Antimony didn't usually share their enthusiasm, but then, she often slipped between the cracks of her family and – even if they didn't actively try to make her so – became nearly invisible.

Her oldest brother, Morten, was the heir to the throne and often working with their father on memorizing laws and various names of dignitaries. He was nearly old enough to be Antimony's father, and although she thought she remembered him being kind to her once, he never had time to pay attention to a sixteen-year-old girl, especially one who would be of no importance to the succession.

The next, Emma, was married to the king of the country just southwest. She had studied politics with Morten, but she also had to study more languages, and how to manage a household. Her studies had taken just as much of her time as Morten's had his, and she had never had time to take much notice of Antimony. She married when Antimony was still very young, and at most, Antimony would see her three nephews during the holidays.

Next came Cecilie, who was also married, this time to a lord from the Hebrides. She wrote back often, saying the people of those isles had hair just as red as several of her brothers and sisters. By that, naturally, she meant her half-brothers and sisters. Hjalmar had married several women, and Cecilie was the youngest daughter of his first wife.

His second wife had died giving birth to twins, Eluf and Lucia. Eluf had, naturally, gone into the army, where he rose through the ranks through both skill and family ties. Lucia had also wanted to join the army, but when she was refused, she ran away, determined to find a place where she could fight freely and defend the weak. No one had heard from her again, and everyone assumed she was dead. A lit candle sat beneath her portrait, and sometimes Antimony went to look at the golden-haired woman and wonder what really had become of her.

After the twins was born a sickly girl who died a few days after she was born. Her mother died hours later, barely more than a girl herself. The baby hadn't been named, but everyone called her "daisy-child".

The next was Thea, who went off to become a nun. She was one of the ones Antimony remembered well, and she remembered her older sister being quiet and soft. Perhaps that was why she had gone to the convent; the Westerguard family was too loud and large for her to deal with, and she didn't have Antimony's gift of shrinking into the shadows.

After Thea came Hanne, who loved to study history and science, and anything else she could get her hands on. She was a spinster, but everyone loved her because she taught the royal children. Even when she was young, she had taught them, and Antimony remembered being interested in the lessons but knowing she was only one of a group. She couldn't even be distinguished by being Hanne's sister, since she had two other siblings in the group, and even then she was only their half-sister.

Antimony had two siblings who had actually taken notice of her, and only because they were the three youngest. The older was Annelise, who had seen Antimony as a rival. Both their names were often shortened to "Annie", and although they now went by their full first names, Annelise still found every excuse she could to find fault with Antimony. The other was Nora, who saw Antimony as something of a pet. Without Antimony, she would have been the youngest, and likely everyone would have targeted her for either teasing or ignoring. They still did, but Antimony had it worse, which seemed to be enough to placate Nora.

Between Annelise and Nora, Antimony would have had quite enough to deal with. Every time Annelise picked at her, even in the smallest way, she felt as though a piece of her skin was being pulled off, and every time Nora tried to pull her into her room to plait her hair or put her in some pretty dress, she felt like a child. Around her older siblings, she felt invisible, and she didn't know whether that was worse than being noticed. Her father had no time for her, her mother had died when she was a child, and none of the servants would speak with her beyond "Yes, Your Royal Highness" or "No, Your Royal Highness", so she spent most of her time either in the library or wandering the halls. Both managed to be interesting; the library always had some book she hadn't yet read, and there was always some hidden room or secret passage that she hadn't noticed before. Sometimes she didn't even realize she was lonely.

One day, when she was sixteen and wandering some of the lower halls, she heard Niels Bendtsen, one of the guards, calling out, "Lunch!" In response, there was only a faint groan. Antimony ducked behind a pillar – the Westerguard castle was suspiciously full of places to hide or be hidden – and waited for Niels to leave so she could at least look at the prisoner. The guard strode past her, not even glancing to the side where she hid. It stung a little to feel invisible, even when she wanted to be unseen; she shouldn't want so badly to be grabbed by the arm and dragged before her father to be scolded for lurking.

Once Niels had left, she walked down the hall and stopped outside the door. It was the same as any prison door: made from bars of metal with a gap at the base for plates of food to be pushed through. Hunched against the back wall, just out of the light shining through the window, was a man. He looked to be a few years older than Antimony, with knotted red hair and ragged clothes that had once been fine. He looked somehow familiar, but Antimony couldn't quite place how, and she stood outside the door for nearly a minute, watching him stare at the untouched plate of crusty bread.

The man sighed. "If you've come back for a laugh, Niels, you might as well get it over with. I'm not going to get any more pathetic in the near future."

"I'm not Niels."

The man looked up and froze. He had been pale before, but now his face looked gray. "A ghost," he whispered. "Anna?"

Now it was Antimony's time to freeze. The explanation everyone would give was that the man had gone mad, or was so already. Perhaps he saw ghosts often and had named them. But then why would he ask about a name so similar to her own. Anna was a common name, she reminded herself, and her own name could be shortened in many ways.

"But no," he said. "Anna lived, and you don't look like her. You look almost like you could be my family." He crawled forward a bit, and she realized that he looked as though he could be her family. He was red-haired, like so many of her cousins and uncles, and he had freckles. He could be another cousin, lost to the ages, though she had never heard of such a scandal that would cause one of her own cousins to be locked away. The news would have been all over the castle, and there had only been one important imprisoning that she could recall.

"Hans?"

"Yes. I'm Prince Hans, embarrassment of the Southern Isles." He looked as though he wanted to laugh but had forgotten how. "I'm surprised you remembered me. No one else has. I had to learn about my father's death and my brother's coronation second-hand."

Antimony thought back to her old lessons. Hans was her youngest uncle, some years older than she was. They had never spent much time together, despite the closeness of their ages; after all, he was part of the more immediate royal family, and she was just one of several children who happened to be connected to the throne by blood. She had relations who were in that situation with regards to her.

"Of course, I don't think I ever properly met you," Hans said, getting to his feet. "If I did, it was so long ago that I barely remember it. Perhaps we ought to meet again, properly." He walked unsteadily toward the door, wavering with each step until he stood mere feet from her. "I am Prince Hans Westerguard of the Southern Isles, formerly thirteenth in line for the throne, now regrettably removed from the succession." He bowed, and for a moment Antimony thought he might faint. "And you are?"

"I am Princess Antimony Westerguard of the Southern Isles, many places down the line for the throne." She curtsied, lowering her eyes as would befit greeting an elder. "It is an honor to meet you."

"You're the first to say that for a very long time." Hans smiled. "I had thought you were one of the guards. They only come back when they think they can make my day worse than it already is. I've never had anyone else come down here."

"Why not?" She had heard some of what had happened, but all the stories differed. In some, he had conspired to take over a kingdom; in others, to kill a princess. In some he had killed the princess, angering the queen so much that she nearly froze him to death, and it was only through the mercy of Hjalmar that he had been spared.

"Most of my brothers would prefer to believe I don't exist. Some of them may have forgotten about me entirely." He wrapped his hands around the bars and leaned on them, as though he lacked the strength to support himself on his own legs. "You probably can't imagine what it's like, feeling like your own family doesn't care whether you live or die."

"I'm the youngest of ten," Antimony said. "Only two of my sisters ever notice me, and none of my brothers." She had never thought about whether they cared if she lived or died. She had always assumed they would care because she was family.

Hans's eyes grew wide. "I didn't realize," he said. "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I had known."

"Don't worry about it," she said. And then, because his green eyes seemed so wide in his pale face, she asked, "Do they feed you enough?"

"Maybe. Whether I eat enough of what they give me is another question." He stepped closer to the bars, and Antimony did the same. "Sometimes I can't bring myself to care whether I starve here. No one else does."

"I care." Antimony took another step forward and set her hand on his. She could feel the bones in his fingers. "I'd care if you live or die."

His fingers wrapped around hers, and she could still feel the cold from the metal bar left on his skin. "Thank you, Antimony," he said, his voice cracking. "Will you come back?"

"As often as I can. I promise."