In stories, the heroes always won.

Princess Isabel had not grown up on stories alone, of course. Her tutors had done their best to drill the often harsh and uncaring truth of the world into her mind; just because no one had ever successfully overthrown a monarch since Oveja I had crowned himself did not mean it would always be so. Mammals had tried, Oztoyehuatl most famously of all, even if none had ever succeeded.

That was not to say that members of the royal family always lived a full life. Isabel's own father had quite possibly been poisoned, and it didn't take much of a look down the family tree engraved on the doors to the throne room in the palace to find the names of princes and princesses who had died in accidents that were simply tragic rather than suspicious.

But some part of Isabel, some part of her that she supposed might simply be something childish she would have to shed, had always assumed that she would be different. Maybe it was arrogance or naivete, but there was something comforting in the notion that the gods would watch out for her and keep her safe. Even without ever being directly told it, Isabel knew how fortunate she had been to be born into the royal family; by virtue of her birth alone she would inherit a kingdom of breathtaking scope. Surely that suggested some kind of favor, no matter how the princess told herself she ought to be more pragmatic. But there was a truth even harsher than the ones her tutors had instructed her in that Isabel was slowly realizing.

The gods could be terribly capricious with those they favored and those they did not.

Cerdo had, quite simply, won. Nicholas might have briefly inconvenienced him, but the fight had gone out of the fox entirely ever since Lord Bogo had placed that awful torc around his neck. It was creepy, seeing him suddenly so cheerfully obedient; every time she had seen Nicholas speak before the princess had gotten the feeling that he didn't feel any particular deference to authority. And as for Commandant Totchli...

Isabel hoped that the rabbit was simply playing along, and whatever bit of mental alchemy Nicholas had attempted had actually worked. The raw and unbridled loathing had vanished from Totchli's face. Or it seemed to have done so, at least. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part. It would be awfully convenient, after all, if Isabel didn't have to do anything to get herself to squash Cerdo's plans. Nicholas had been converted to the pig's side, but perhaps Totchli was now working alone.

It was almost comforting, if she didn't face the facts.

If Totchli was simply faking her allegiance, whatever she was planning didn't seem to be going very well. When Nicholas had briefly twisted free and damaged the massive alchemy array, Isabel hadn't been able to help the nearly overwhelming sense of relief that had bubbled up inside her. Surely the two mammals were working together and doing something wonderfully clever.

But then Bogo had caught Nicholas and placed a torc around his neck, and Totchli had done nothing to stop it.

As disappointing as it was, Isabel told herself that she was suddenly and horribly alone despite being in a tunnel filled with mammals. Everyone else must have surely been bent to Cerdo's will; although Isabel expected a great deal of loyalty out of members of the City Guard, she thought the wolves who had accompanied Bogo were too loyal. It was almost as though they were sleepwalking, blissfully unaware of the significance of events playing out before them.

That Lord Bogo and all the officers of the City Guard present (including Totchli and Nicholas) had been forced into unquestioning obedience was bad. That Isabel's mother was just as blindly loyal to the pig was even worse. It made Isabel's skin crawl beneath her woolly fur to see her mother so placid, so horribly and utterly off. It was as though the mammals standing before her wasn't her mother at all but a crude copy of her. Everything that had made the queen what she was had been scrubbed away and replaced with a shallow copy. It was like the difference between a solid gold bar and a lead bar coated in the precious metal.

And worse, that same fate awaited Isabel herself. Her knees had nearly buckled as she came to that realization that the fox and the rabbit couldn't help her. Simply staying upright had been a tremendous force of will, and she had no idea what to do. If she had been Nicholas, perhaps she could have unleashed a dazzling display of alchemy and fled to come up with a clever plan. If she had been Totchli, perhaps she could have slipped past all the guards, showing off an incredible aptitude with her sword if any guardsmammal got too close.

But Isabel was neither one of them.

Her knowledge of alchemy was far too shallow to try anything and she was at best mediocre with a sword. No matter what she tried, the end result would be the same. She would fail, and then she would be caught. All she could accomplish would be to delay the inevitable, and what good was that? This wasn't like a game of patolli, where a bold and desperate strategy was always worth trying if her opponent had a dominating lead. That, after all, was just a game, and sometimes Macuilxōchitl favored the losing player. In a real confrontation, though, it hardly seemed worth it.

An icy claw of despair grasped at Isabel's heart, and she could feel her paws trembling as Lord Bogo and her mother turned their attention to her. If their gazes had been cold and blank it might have been easier to bear, but it was as though there was still some kind of love there. Maybe just the imitation of it, or maybe the real thing buried beneath the awful force the torcs had, but it was still there.

"I have a new torc for you, Princess Isabel," Bogo said, and his tone was blandly polite.

He might as well have been telling her that the weather was good, and he held out the piece of jewelry as though it was of no special importance. "You have to put it on, dear," Isabel's mother said, giving her an encouraging smile, "And then we can all go back to Cerdo and everything will be fine."

Isabel's heart pounded in her ears even as her hooves seemed frozen to the tunnel floor. There didn't seem to be anything she could do; could she possibly bring herself to attack Lord Bogo? Even knowing that he wasn't himself, Isabel wasn't sure she could. And if she did, could she actually hurt him? He was so much larger and more experienced that it didn't seem particularly likely.

Isabel's eyes darted around the tunnel, trying to spot anything she could do, but no options jumped out at her. Her mother was still smiling encouragingly. The wolves were standing respectfully at attention. Captain Nicholas, his face seeming almost unrecognizable with his usual expression gone, was simply looking at her, as was Commandant Totchli.

And Bogo was still walking toward her.

But then suddenly, moving with a surprising speed, Captain Nicholas interposed himself between her and the buffalo. "Allow me, Captain General," Nicholas said, stretching out one paw, "It'd be my honor to help and try to make up for the trouble I've caused."

His voice sounded horribly sincere and earnest, and Bogo hesitated only briefly. "Please," the fox said, "Let me prove where my loyalties are."

"Very well."

Bogo's words seemed to seal Isabel's fate as he gave the torc over, and Captain Nicholas walked the rest of the way to where she stood. Isabel couldn't help but close her eyes, no matter how shameful it felt. A princess ought to be brave, but she couldn't bear to watch. "Everything will be fine," she heard him say, and then the torc was around her neck.

Isabel didn't feel any different, which was terrifying in its own way. She knew her mind was no longer her own, but there had been no apparent change. "You'll obey any order Lord Bogo or the queen gives you," Nicholas said, and Isabel could feel her heart sink even as she opened her eyes.

She hadn't expected to feel so normal. It would have been kinder, in a way, had he also ordered her to believe in their cause. Isabel knew she didn't want to obey the commands that were essentially coming to her from Cerdo, but it simply felt futile to resist them. What was the point in doing so? "Y—Yes," Isabel said, and Nicholas winked at her.

He probably meant it to be comforting, but Isabel felt filled by dread instead. "Come on, then," the queen said, gesturing toward the end of the tunnel, "Let's get out of this awful place."

Isabel seemed to have far too much time, alone with her thoughts, as the party made its way back the way everyone had traveled. The guardsmammals had surrounded her and her mother, who was walking close by and seemed quite glad of it. The thought of what had happened to her mother robbed her closeness of any kind of support, and Isabel didn't dare speak. No one else did, either, and Isabel almost wished someone would break the silence. With every step, she hoped something would happen. An intercession by the gods, perhaps, or the unexpected arrival of someone willing to help. The shocking revelation that Nicholas and Totchli had managed to fool Bogo would have been especially welcome, but of course it did not happen.

The opportunities for an alternate ending seemed to dwindle in Isabel's mind as they drew ever closer to the exit, and the feeble light of hope in her chest grew ever weaker. To Isabel, she thought she understood what it must feel like for a mammal to walk to their own execution, knowing that it was coming and clutching at straws for how it might be avoided. It had to be what all mammals thought at some point or another; surely the gods would realize that they were making a terrible mistake and she was too important and special to be allowed to die.

But that was a foolish thought. A childish one. Desperate ideas filled Isabel's head. She had been ordered to go meet Cerdo, but no one had specifically told her not to attack him. Could she possibly try? Surely he wouldn't be so overconfident as to overlook the possibility, but maybe, just maybe...

Maybe all it would accomplish would be to get herself killed, or perhaps to be put under an even more oppressive command. But her resolve seemed to come back to her. As she ascended back into the world above ground—which seemed so much larger and full of possibilities than the world below—Isabel knew what she had to do. It was her last, most desperate hope, but perhaps she could cut the head off the snake that had wound itself around the throne before it bit her.

As she was led from the crevasse in the earth to Phoenix itself, a sort of calmness had settled over Isabel. Not perfect calm, by any means—her heart was still pounding—but as her fingers tightened and loosened over her weapon she seemed to have a sense of purpose. She would succeed or she would fail, but either way she would try rather than going helplessly to her fate. She said a silent prayer to the gods as, with a terrible swiftness, she found herself before the door that would lead to Cerdo.

The guards on either side of it sharply saluted and bowed before opening it wide, and the guardsmammals around her spread out a bit, the group reorganizing slightly so that Nicholas and Totchli were standing behind her. And then she heard something.

Nicholas had breathed two words into her ear, two words spoken so softly that they almost felt like her own thoughts rather than something from outside her head. Tension seemed to drain out of her chest, and Isabel relaxed ever so slightly as hope bubbled up where the anxiety had been. The words Nicholas had spoken had been short and to the point, but even without knowing what he was thinking she felt confident that he and Commandant Totchli could somehow pull a heroic victory out of nowhere. She could, Isabel thought, act with them rather than alone.

"Not yet," he had said, and nothing more.

But as they were escorted into the building in Phoenix Cerdo had made his own, they were enough.