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Verona’s woes returned to those who escaped them. “Good.”
    “Isabella! I forbid thee to speak so. Verona must understand that the Crown’s justice—”
    “Hang the Crown’s justice,” said Isabella. “And I am a princess now, Escalus; thou canst forbid me nothing. If young Romeo avenged Mercutio’s death, I will thank him for that.”
    “Not in this world, thou shalt not. I exiled Romeo for his part in this bloodshed and he fled Verona, leaving his young Capulet wife in her parents’ house. They, unknowing, had arranged for her to wed the county Paris.” Isabella shuddered; Count Paris was another of their kinsmen. “Aye, this sorry tale hath many noble souls ensnared. To escape this adulterous union, Juliet enlisted the help of a friar to feign her death so that she could escape and join her love.”
    “Feign death?”
    “Aye. The friar gave her a potion that induced a sleep so deep it appeared that life had fled. We entombed her with all sadness in the crypt of her ancestors, where her love was to find her, but he never received the message that was sent and heard only that she had died. Romeo returned to find what he thought was her corpse, and slew himself. Juliet woke, found him dead, and swiftly followed him.”
    Isabella sat back in the saddle, staring wide-eyed up at the city walls rising before them. Her hands twitched the reins as though she was having second thoughts about visiting the city of her birth. “In the name of God, a fearful passage. I chose an unhappy time for my homecoming. All those young lives … Tell me that cousin Paris at least kept clear of all this.”
    Escalus shook his head. “Romeo slew him at the gate of Juliet’s tomb.”
    “All this began three weeks ago, you say?”
    “Nearly. As best as we can tell, Romeo and Juliet met at a feast of her father’s on the fourteenth day of July, and they wed and died within a week.”
    “And now? Are the houses at peace?”
    Escalus gave a heavy shrug. “So they say. The grieving parents have sworn that the deaths of their children have cured them of their enmity. They have even raised statues of the two lovers at their tomb.”
    Isabella threw him a sharp glance. “But you have little faith in this oath.”
    “If generations could not cure their ire, will a summer of murder really do so? Old Montague and Capulet mean wellenough, but they’ve little control over the youths of their houses, who walk the streets day and night, their hands hovering at their swords. ’Tis but a matter of time.”
    “Thou know’st not so. Wilt thou not let them prove their penitence?”
    “More likely they will disprove it with the bodies of more of my subjects.” Escalus shook his head. “No, ’twill take more than pretty statues to bring peace to my city.”
    “Your city. You sound like Father.”
    “Father kept the peace until the day he died.”
    “After a fashion. Montagues and Capulets aplenty slew each other under his reign. What mean you to do?”
    Escalus sighed, passing a hand over his sweaty brow. “I’ faith, I know not.”
    “ ’Tis strange to think little Juliet could be so rash,” Isabella said. “Rosaline would never have done so. The cleverest of my friends, she was. If it had been Rosaline Romeo loved, none of this would have come to pass.”
    “Actually, he—” Escalus cut himself off. “Ah! Of course.”
    Isabella blinked. “Of course what?”
    “I’ll explain anon. Isabella, thou art heaven sent.” He squeezed her hand quickly. “I must make haste back to the city.” With a flick of his reins, he sent Venitio surging ahead toward Verona’s walls.
    “Whither goest thou?” Isabella called after him.
    “House Capulet,” he called over his shoulder.

    “Oh, give it here. I’ll wear the cursed thing.”
    Livia pulled the hated black dress from Rosaline’s hands. Rosaline looked at her skeptically. “Thou wilt don it?”
    “An ’twill stop thee looking like thou smell’st something foul,