"What are you doing here?" the Veiled Prophet asked. "Where is Mrs. Owens?" His voice was not the same. He sounded more like the grocer down the street, though Adelaide knew this person was not someone as common as a grocer.

Despite her bleeding hands and the pain that lingered there and in her mind, Adelaide gave the Veiled Prophet a winning smile. "My apologies, Your Highness. I'm afraid I must withdraw from the competition to become your Queen. Adelaide Holekamp. You can ask your secretary to strike my name from your list."

"I don't understand."

"It's not important," Adelaide said. "I wish all of the other girls—and you, as well—the best of luck. It seems I'm just not cut out for the life of a Queen. If you'll excuse...

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