In the middle of the chamber sat a small old man on a modest chair. He stood as they entered, using a cane in each hand. The pig stopped ten paces from him and crouched down.

“Should we get off?” Jace asked.

“Yes,” Lola replied.

They all slid down the same side. The marble floor was hard and smooth underfoot. The quilted pig backed away.

The little man walked forward a few steps, relying heavily on his canes. He was almost bald, with a thin fringe of white around the sides of his lightly spotted head. His features disguised by wrinkles, he looked frail, like he belonged in a hospital gown. Instead, he wore a plain green sweater and brown trousers. The slippers on his feet left a clear view of his pale, bony ankles.

The old man paused. “Would you close the door, Jamar?” His voice lacked vitality.

The door swung shut.

The old man smiled awkwardly. He had very even teeth. “Well, you have uncovered our little secret, haven’t you? Happens on occasion, but not often, not often.”

He seemed to be waiting for them to respond.

“Are you the master?” Mira asked.

His smile widened, and he gave a weak chuckle. “I suppose so, especially if we’re still keeping this secretive. Welcome to Cloudvale, one of the least publicized hideaways in the five kingdoms. It’s a small province, but it’s free. We’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“We’re not spies,” Cole said.

“Now that I see you, I suspect that’s true,” the old man said, his smile fading a little. “The only one of you with the potential to transmit information out of here is definitely not allied with the High Shaper. Do you three boys know who you’re escorting?”

“We know enough,” Jace said.

“How much?” the old man asked Mira.

“Not everything,” Mira said. “You know who I am?”

“Yes,” he said. “How much do you trust them?”

“As much as I can trust anyone. They’ve all risked their lives for me.”

He nodded. “Have you figured out who I am?”

“I think so,” she answered.

He lifted one of his canes momentarily to point at her. “Out with it, then, young lady. Who am I?”

“You’re Declan Pierce, the Grand Shaper of Sambria.”

His smile grew wide again, eyes crinkling. “Guilty. Guilty as charged. Do you mean to continue in the company of these three boys?”

Cole watched Mira, as did Jace and Twitch. She considered them. “You don’t have to stay with me. Trouble will follow wherever I go.”

“I’m not going to leave you unprotected,” Jace said.

“Me neither,” Cole seconded.

“We’ve come this far,” Twitch added.

Mira faced Declan. “Then, yes, they’ll remain with me.”

“Would you like them to share in our counsel?” Declan asked. “It would mean revealing your identity.”

“Yes,” Mira said.

His smile vanished. “Leave us, Asia, Jamar. Lola, tell your maker to take a greater interest in current events.”

“Are you sure, sire?” Asia asked.

Annoyance flickered across Declan’s features. “We have sensitive matters to discuss. We’re not just meeting here because I adore drafty underground theatricality. You’ll be included when the time is right. Look to our defenses. We must stay on high alert going forward. That is all.”

The doors opened. Jamar exited with his wax people. Asia walked out beside the pig, and the doors swung shut.

Declan made his way back to the chair using his canes. Once in his seat again, he wiped perspiration from his brow, breathing shallowly. “I feel terrible sitting while you stand.”

“It’s fine,” Cole said.

“It’s rude,” Declan replied. “Old bones. Can’t be helped. Well, could have been helped, perhaps, with better planning. I didn’t anticipate visitors, and we need utter silence.”

“Can’t you just shape us some chairs?” Jace asked.

“Elsewhere, yes. But I mustn’t risk shaping in here. Any new shaping I perform could disturb the balance that keeps this room inscrutable from the outside.”

“We can’t be heard?” Mira asked.

“We probably couldn’t be overheard anywhere in Cloudvale, but this room makes it certain that nobody will eavesdrop. Young lady, it’s time to reveal your true identity. Would you like to do the honors, or should I?”

“Go ahead,” Mira said politely.

“The five daughters of Stafford Pemberton, High Shaper over the five kingdoms, were Elegance, Honor, Constance, Miracle, and Destiny. He never had a male heir. The girls supposedly died in an accident more than sixty years ago. Except they didn’t. They lived.”

“How do you know that?” Mira asked.

“Harmony has been in touch,” Declan said. “Stafford faked their deaths so he could hold them prisoner. He had somehow stolen their powers, but he needed them alive or he would lose his newfound talents. So a carriage dramatically plunged into a roiling river, and even as he locked his daughters away in a dungeon, the High Shaper pretended to mourn with the rest of us.”

“When he took their shaping abilities, the girls stopped aging,” Mira said. “The process wasn’t merely slowed—they are all as young today as the day their father betrayed them.”

“Their mother, Harmony, got wise to the plot and helped her daughters escape,” Declan continued. “The five royal princesses hide in exile to this very hour—Elegance, Honor, Constance, Miracle, and Destiny. Some of them may not even bother to use clever aliases.”

As the realization hit, Cole felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. It took him a moment to speak. “You’re Miracle.”

Mira raised her eyebrows. “I used a less obvious name for the first twenty years in hiding. With my family, I had always gone by Mira. As time passed, people forgot about my death. If I had survived, I should have been an adult. Instead, I was a slave girl. I stayed far from anyone who might have remembered my face. Regaining my true nickname never caused any problems.”

“No way,” Jace said. “You’re really Princess Miracle?”

She flashed an awkward smile and nodded.

“They call those five princesses the lost treasure of Junction,” Twitch said. “Everyone knows the story. They were all amazing shapers. After they vanished, the High King was never the same.”