Day after day, I attempted to explore the palace, but never made it far from my room. It seemed that the farther I walked, the more resistance I faced. Frustrated, I paced my room one day, pondering how I could uncover clues when I could hardly leave my chambers.
Without new secrets to occupy my thoughts and each puzzle being trapped at a dead end, I had nothing to distract me from the mysterious dream man, robbing me of focus that could be put to better use unraveling the mysteries filling these corridors—questions of where he’d come from, where he’d vanished, and most importantly of all: his motives.
Sleep, when it eventually claimed me, came in strange fragments rather than full dreams—a slant of moonlight across stone, a shadow leaning close, the curve of a familiar smirk just beyond clarity. Once, I thought I heard my name spoken in a voice that felt dangerously real…but when I startled awake, the room lay quiet, washed in pale morning light that looked no different than the equally pale evening light when I’d grown too weary to keep my eyes open.
I blinked at the almost obscure details, slowly taking in the curtains, polished floor, and mahogany furnishings without immediately recognizing them. Everything appeared as it should, although faintly muted, as though the world had been washed in diluted ink, draining it of color. Perhaps whatever was draining my energy and forcing me into long stretches of sleep had altered my ability to see clearly.
My confinement in bed without corridors to explore, my mind betrayed me by wandering to the mysterious Evander, with his snarky banter and the lingering uncertainty of whether he’d been from my dreams…the man who might not actually exist.
For all the visitors who hovered at my bedside as the days melted into one another, he alone remained notably absent, an absence that felt louder than the rest. Though I’d been trying to rid myself of him from the moment he’d caught me scaling the wall, I felt a strange, unwelcome ache at his disappearance, as if something unfinished lingered between us. A ridiculous notion, especially when the guards’ inability to see him made me wonder whether he was real at all, or merely another side effect of the curse that seemed to have taken hold of me.
In the quiet hours of these restless nights that blurred into one another, I often found myself reliving his smirk and barbed charm, the way he’d bested me as though it had been inevitable. I despised that he’d won, despised more that I could still recall how maddeningly handsome my nemesis had looked while claiming victory. In a world that was increasingly blurry and uncertain, his face remained clear in my mind, his mocking smile both irritating and intriguing me.
No matter how long I remained trapped in my room—hours or days, I couldn’t tell—he never reappeared. Not in waking, nor in whatever strange dreaming claimed me each night thatoffered glimpses of places I felt I should know, but had no recollection of.
I tried to forget him, but his toying smile and laughing eyes lingered…along with the sense he and I had met before, long ago in a forgotten time and place. And yet sometimes, just before the curse dragged me under, I could almost swear I felt him near.
I fought to grasp the wispy tendrils toying at the edge of my thoughts, struggling to hold them long enough to explore them…but they drifted out of reach, eluding me. I shook my head sharply, as though the motion might dislodge the thought. Men who may or may not exist were of little consequence in the face of my current dilemma: finding a way out of this room in order to investigate the castle, and eventually making my escape before I completely lost my identity.
Unlike this dream phantom, secrets were tangible; more importantly, they could be hunted.
I struggled to sit up for what must have been the hundredth time, only for another wave of exhaustion to wash over me. My body sagged back into the silken sheets with a groan of frustration. This tug-of-war had waged for hours—me willing my body to move, but being prevented by some unseen force keeping me trapped. With each act of defiance, I sensed its quiet grip slowly weakening, as though whatever held me did not expect resistance.
Even if I were free to walk the halls, it wasn’t as though I could roam unnoticed, at least not after my expedition the other day. The healer hovered over me like I was one breath away from collapse, and the guards posted just beyond the door didn’t even pretend to mask their watchful vigilance. And though my mind had begun to sharpen, my limbs remained weak, each movement slow and frustratingly fragile…which meant escaping through the window was out of the question.
Curse or no curse, I was still confined. I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t let some supposed curse tether me. What use was rest when answers lay just out of reach?
Luckily, there were other ways to search. If I couldn’t walk the corridors, I would make the corridors come to me. I began investigating what I could from within the room, particularly the areas the royal family might have touched in hopes the memories hidden within each object would guide me.
I started with the carved bedpost, fingers brushing the smooth wood. A memory stirred—a hazy flicker of the queen seated at my bedside, stroking my brow with tender deliberation while humming a lullaby too soft to fully hear. The king stood watching from the doorway, his expression taut with something dangerously close to fear. But beneath the show of affection and careful words, I sensed…restraint, carefully concealed.
I prodded deeper to explore older memories I couldn’t recall. Seasons blurred past in quick succession—flowers blooming and withering, tapestries changing, candle wax dripping in different patterns, months slipping away while I slept.
None of these recollections contained any hint of deceit or ulterior motives, but that didn’t dismiss the possibility that they didn’t exist, only revealed I would have to investigate deeper if I hoped to uncover them.
Patiently, I sifted further. I wasn’t used to taking such time with my magic, as I was usually in a rush to escape. Now I had nothing but time and worked to stretch my ability, pushing below layer after layer to find what was significant. It took sorting through several mundane memories before my efforts and patience were finally rewarded—the soft rustle of fabric being drawn aside, followed by the sound of a section of wall shifting with a low, secretive groan.
My eyes snapped open. Across the room, near where the king had stood the previous evening, hung an intricate tapestry Ihadn’t examined before. Golden threads embroidered a majestic stag ringed by roses, its antlers proud and sharp.
My pulse quickened. The curse tightened briefly around my ribs, as if in warning. But I was already rising, ignoring the heaviness in my limbs. No spell would withhold a secret from me. I would find them all.
I swung my weak legs over the side of the bed and tentatively tested my weight, waiting for the dizziness to overwhelm me. But the strange, peculiar curse appeared to have momentarily released me from its grasp. I shakily stood, and after checking my balance, took a hesitant step, then another. With each the exhaustion that had held me bound slipped further and further away.
I pressed my palm against the tapestry’s woven fabric. Another memory flared to life, a glimpse through the eyes of one of the guards—a torch flickering in the dark, a uniformed arm pushing the fabric aside to press his hand flat against the stone. A softclickas a section of the wall groaned open, revealing a narrow opening swallowed in shadow.
A hidden passage.
The vision vanished as quickly as it had come, but the echo remained. A smile curved my lips. I knew this place held more than it let on. And now that I’d glimpsed the edge of it, I wouldn’t stop until I discovered the rest.
CHAPTER 11
Ipressed harder against the stone, but nothing moved. I revisited the memory, venturing further back until I reached the beginning when the guard pushed a switch hidden along the seam at the top, almost beyond my reach. I stood on tiptoe and barely managed to graze it; excitement coursed through me as the wall slid aside, just enough for me to squeeze through the tight opening.
My fingertips traced the nooks and protrusions in the cool stone as I walked through the dim passage, searching for any memories that might illuminate the way forward towards the exit. Unpleasant flickers rose—visions of harrowed escapes and lengthy sojourns trapped within the dank, confined walls. Yet despite the negative emotions, I felt happier than I had in days. With each step, the tug of exhaustion lessened, and I finally felt like myself, my senses sharpening as I moved silently through the passage.
I carefully sifted through the gloom and peril, certain that there had to be at least one adventurous spirit in the history of this castle who’d investigated the passageways for the sheer thrill whose explorations I could use. Searching…searching,each memory as twisted as the passage I traversed. Finally, I detected a recollection that seemed promising.
I followed the steps contained within the recollection, guiding torchlight through the darkness. The passage stretched quite a ways, narrowing further, before eventually slopping downward and ending at a stone wall.
