There were five pleats on the back of Genevieve's gown. On the skirt, there were twenty-two flowers. Ro knew this because she had been standing behind Genevieve for what felt like hours, waiting for the herald to announce them.

"How long do we wait?" Ro whispered in Genevieve's ear.

"Until they announce everyone who's below the royal family in rank. Then they announce Margherita and Antonio, then the King and Queen, then us."

"Is it always this boring?"

"Yes," Genevieve answered honestly, "but the others and I usually play games to keep ourselves occupied."

"Who goes to balls with you? I know Isabella is too young."

"My parents, Derek, and Pierre. Dominique will join us in a year when she turns fifteen, Henri in two, and Erik in three."

I hav 5 bruthers and sisters.

"Erik. . . Erik was named after your aunt, yes?"

Genevieve nodded. "Rosella picked his name out. Maman was pregnant with him when she left."

Maman has a babie in her stumak. I picked out the new babies name.

Genevieve continued on, oblivious to the wheel spinning in Ro's head. "Of course, Erika isn't really our aunt, as she and Maman aren't really sisters, but they look exactly alike and they're the best of friends. We spend every Christmas and Easter with her and Uncle Dominick and their children. Sometimes we see them during the summer if we're lucky."

She would play hide and seek in palaces and forests with Johannes, Brigitta, Derek, and Geny. Uncle Dominick would sweep her up and hold her upside down while she laughed until her face was red every time he saw her. She was his favourite, he always told her so.

"Uncles are allowed to have favourites, Perle." he would say, "Just don't tell your brothers and sisters."

She had always laughed. "You're only saying that because you tell them the same thing!"

"Are you saying that the King of Dulcemia is not a man of his word?" he would respond in mock offence.

She would never tell Aunt Erika, that as much as she loved her, Uncle Dominick had been her favourite too.

". . . it's technically under both Palladian and Dulcemian jurisdiction, so that's where we usually meet. Ro, are you listening to me?" Genevieve asked, looking both amused and annoyed.

How many times had Genevieve said that to her, with that same expression? Rosella would be off in her own little world while Genevieve explained verb conjugations as though they were little pieces of beauty, the way her father talked about plants, the way her mother talked about rocks.

Gen would always kick her in the shin during lessons whenever she wasn't paying attention and Madame Arpin asked her a question. Oh God.

Antonio had been right. She was Princess Rosella. It was as though she was waking up from a very long nap. Memories came flooding back to her in waves as large and overwhelming as the ones that had taken her from her family in the first place.

She looked at Genevieve, truly looked at her for the first time since she'd hugged her goodbye all those years ago. Geny was so tall now, which Ro had always assumed was because Genevieve was wearing high heels and Ro was always barefoot, but now they were both in heels and Gen was still just a touch taller than her.

She looked so much like their father, but her movements were a combination of their mother, grandmother, and something that was all her own. Ro felt like crying just seeing how grown up she was, how she didn't get to watch it happen. Impulsively, she reached out and hugged her sister (her sister!) tightly. She felt Genevieve initially stiffen, then slowly return the hug.

"Are you alright?" Genevieve asked, pulling back and looking at her with her brow furrowed.

It's me, Gen! she wanted to scream. It's me, it's Rosella! She was about to say so, when she heard the booming voice of the herald announce Genevieve's name.

"That's us!" Genevieve said, smiling nervously.

Ro reluctantly let go of Genevieve's hand as she walked into the candlelit ballroom behind her. She felt herself glow with pride and nostalgia as she watched Genevieve smile and curtsy prettily at all of the aristocrats and ambassadors gathered.

As they walked down the stairs slowly, Genevieve whispered to her, "I'm glad we're getting along better. After Isabella leaves I won't have any of my family with me, so it's nice to have a friend here."

"After you marry Antonio, you won't see your family anymore?"

"Only a few times a year. And we'll write of course, but it won't be the same as it was."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Antonio offered his hand to Genevieve, and she took it with a smile. Ro gave a watery smile in both of their directions as Antonio led Genevieve to the middle of the ballroom for a dance. Ro hoped Genevieve's dancing had improved since the last lesson she had shared with her.

She couldn't tell Genevieve who she was. She couldn't take away a position that she'd be perfect for. And selfishly, if she married Antonio, Genevieve would go back to Palladia, and she'd lose her family just as she had found them.

Rosella would stay with Genevieve. She would be her chief lady in waiting, her closest confidante, everything that a sister should be. And this way she could still be with the man she loved.

The only way for everyone to be happy was if she kept calling herself Ro, and Rosella Marie Du Châtillon stayed dead.

"May I have this dance?" a voice said beside her.

Ro looked to her right and saw a tall, handsome man in his forties offering his hand to her. He wore a powdered wig, but she could see a bit of light brown hair peeking out of the front. The cardinal colour of his coat brought out the shocking icy blue of his eyes.

"I'm very rusty at dancing, sir."

"Lucky for you, you only need to follow my lead."

Ro took his hand and allowed him to lead her in a waltz, waiting for him to speak.

"You look quite different from when I saw you last, Rosella." he said, giving her a conspiratorial wink.

She smiled. "So do you, Uncle Dominick."

"It's called ageing, Perle. I don't recommend it."

Ro sighed. "How did you know it was me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Please. I saw you out of the corner of my eye and thought you were your mother. It's not an excellent disguise. And I am an expert on disguises."

Ro snorted. "You mean putting on a hat instead of a crown? Yes, you should be a spy for your own country."

Dominick laughed, shaking his head. Then, his eyes turning serious, he asked her, "Why are you pretending not to know who you are?"

"I didn't up until a few minutes ago! It didn't help that Genevieve didn't recognize me and hated me for the first two weeks I was here!"

Dominick smiled down at her paternally. "Genevieve hides from anything that confuses her, even when it's the truth. Remember how long it took us to convince her that your mother and Erika weren't twins like her and Derek?"

"No," she said honestly, "I remember a lot, but not everything yet."

"Even if you'd grown up at home, you might have forgotten. You were only about four," he said patiently, "It was an entire year. Give her time, Rosy. She's already warming up to you. But you should tell her the truth."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because then she'll go home, and I'll be all alone here, and only see my family occasionally."

"You think they wouldn't let you wait a year or two to marry Antonio if you wanted? Or stay longer than planned in Apollonia so they could spend more time with you? They'd find a way so they don't lose you just as they've found you."

Ro looked at her feet.

"She looked so happy. She's going to be such a good queen here, much better than I would be. She speaks five languages, and I've been reading the same two books for twelve years!"

"What about the rest of your family? Don't you think they deserve to know you're alive?"

Ro looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. "Please don't say anything."

Dominick sighed as the music came to a close. "Erika is here too. Meet us in the greenhouse in an hour and we'll come up with a plan. Alright?"

Ro nodded, exhaling shakily.

Uncle Dominick smiled again. "It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too."

Perle: German for pearl