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Ursula and Albrecht stood before their parents.

“Show me the gold,” King Tyran said.

Albrecht fished it out of his purse.

Tyran leaned forward in his throne. “Is that all of it?”

“That’s all,” Albrecht said. “Just these two coins.”

“There were also silvers and coppers,” Ursula said.

The king waved away the small change. He held the golden coins up to the light. Then he handed them to the queen. “What do you think? Are these of your making?”

“I—I am not sure,” the queen said. She coughed into a handkerchief. She’d been coughing a great deal lately. “Where did they say they got it?”

“The woods,” the king said. “And I would think you’d recognize your own gold. But we could test it.”

“We haven’t any blood,” the queen said.

Ursula was puzzled. What would blood do?

The king gestured at Greta and Hans. “We have plenty right here.”

“Oh, Tyran. They’re children.”

“They have plenty to spare.”

“I have a knife,” Albrecht said.

“Use mine,” Ursula said.

You have a knife?” Albrecht laughed. “Since when?”

“I meant use my blood,” Ursula said.

“Darling, no,” her mother said. “You don’t want a scar.”

Albrecht looked both girls over. He hesitated, as if deciding which one he wanted to hurt. He took Greta’s hand. “The blade is very sharp.”

“Please, no.” Greta pulled, but his grip was stronger.

“Stay still. Unless you like it when things hurt.” He sliced her palm, dipped his finger in it, and offered it to his father. “Is this enough?”

“Plenty,” Tyran said. “Touch it to the coin.”

Albrecht ran his finger against the gold. It started to bubble.

“Your mother’s gold has a flaw,” the king said. “Blood weakens it.”

Albrecht laughed. “It figures that the creation of a woman weakens at the sight of blood.”

Ursula wanted to smack her brother, but she had to look like the one in control, the one meant to rule. There was always talk that Albrecht should get the throne. Any mistake she made could destroy her future. A boy must only be born first to rule. A girl must be born first and prove herself, and that still might not be enough.

Greta closed her fist around her wound. Ursula took a handkerchief from a pocket. “May I?”

Greta nodded, her eyes bright with tears. There wasn’t too much blood. For all his faults, Albrecht knew how deep he needed to slice. He’d cut no more.

The king addressed Greta. “How did you come to be in possession of my gold? Think carefully about your answer.”

“It was left outside of our cottage,” Greta said. “I assumed it was alms after the deaths of my parents.”

“Who were your parents?”

“The woodsman and his wife,” Greta said.

“Pity,” the king said. “I liked that fellow.”

“And you two children are now living all alone?” the queen asked.

Greta nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“That is no way for children to live,” the queen said.

Greta looked apprehensive. Ursula could tell she wanted to say something but did not dare.

“Her brother is a were,” Albrecht said. “He has a wolf nature.”

“A wolf,” the king said. “He’d be no match for our Ursula. Would you, boy?”

“I could kill him,” Albrecht said.

The queen coughed again, this time more violently. “The children need a place to live.”

Ursula could see resistance in Greta’s eyes, and also fear. It made her admire the girl, whom she might have written off as nothing because she was so pretty and fair.

“They could live here, Mother,” Albrecht said.

Her brother didn’t have a generous spirit, so he had to have something he wanted out of the arrangement. Oh, mercy. Albrecht liked how Greta looked. It was obvious.

“Girl,” the king said, “can you do kitchen work?”

“Yes,” Greta said. “But—”

“Then it’s settled. We grant you a position in the kitchen. Albrecht will take you there.”

“What about the brother?” Ursula said.

“Her brother belongs with the weres,” the king said.

Ursula bit her tongue. They probably thought she belonged there too.

“I want him,” Albrecht said. “I need an assistant.”

“That settles it, then,” the king said.

Ursula was astonished. Her brother hated weres. He was always mocking them. She worried for the boy in the beautiful red cloak.

“Jutta must make him a cage,” Albrecht said.

The boy looked horrified.

“Well done, Albrecht and Ursula,” the king said. “You are excused.”

Ursula could not help but notice that her father said her brother’s name first. She curtsied. On her way out, she overheard her father ask her mother where she thought the coins had come from, if not the royal treasury, where they were carefully guarded and tracked.

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” her mother said, her voice husky as it had been so often lately.

Ursula could not help but hear the fear in her mother’s voice, followed by a coughing fit that echoed long after she’d left the hall.