I brushed my hand along the damp stone until my fingers paused on one that was subtly warmer than the rest—barely noticeable, but enough for me to feel the shimmer of magic vibrating beneath its surface. I pressed my palm flat against it. The texture was smoother than the surrounding stones, as if worn by time…or by the repeated touch of someone who had once occupied this very cell.
Curiosity stirred. I dropped into a crouch, brushing my fingers along the edge of the stone until they caught on a shallow groove, carved into the seam.
A mark, almost too faint to see. I leaned closer. The moonlight filtering through the high window offered just enough illumination for me to make out a single half-faded symbol, etched with haste or secrecy.
It wasn’t a prisoner's tally mark, but a familiar crest—a circlet crowned with thorns. My breath caught. The royal sigil.
I traced its design, letting my magic seep into each carving. The memory came in flashes—of a man I recognized from his portrait, whom I had already glimpsed in visions earlier that night through the objects in his chambers. A man who felt more familiar than he should.
The missing prince.
Heart thudding, I slowly withdrew my hand, questions swirling through my mind that the fragments of memory hadnot revealed:why would the crown prince, long believed to have vanished without a trace,carve his sigil into the stone of a prison cell?
The weight of the discovery pressed against me more heavily than the confined walls imprisoning me. The sigil raised more questions than it answered, each one circling my thoughts like moths to flame. Why had the prince been here? What had happened to him afterward? And why did it feel as though he had left this mark for someone—perhaps even me—to find?
But the silence offered no reply.
With no further clues to chase, I sank onto the cold floor, curling my cloak tighter around me. Time passed achingly slowly, so that I felt each second drift away into the uncertain night. I’d just begun to idly wonder what curtains would go well with the dank stone should I be stuck here indefinitely when footsteps suddenly echoed in the darkness, slowly descending the steps into the dungeon.
The door creaked open, flooding the dungeon with a pool of candlelight that scattered the clinging shadows. The flame flickered across the cold stone walls as the same guards who’d locked me away approached my cell.
I tensed immediately, instinct bracing me for the sentence I’d feared since they dragged me down here, every tight muscle poised to resist.
The head guard, Tomas, stopped just short of my cell bars. I offered my sweetest smile. “Did you miss me already?”
To my disappointment, he didn’t rise to the bait, promising that this battle of words would be a lot less fun. “Stand,” he barked.
I lifted my chin but didn’t move. “I wasn’t aware royal protocol involved yanking prisoners out of cells without so much as an explanation.”
“We’ve conversed with Their Majesties. You are to transition to a guest room for the remainder of the night.”
My surprise that the king and queen were currently residing at the summer palace I’d previously believed abandoned was nothing to his announcement. I blinked. Surely I’d misheard. “A…guest room?”
My mind stuttered over the words, struggling to reshape reality around the phrase. I cast a puzzled glance at the thin mattress behind me—nothing extravagant, but hardly the worst place I’d ever spent a night, and certainly more than I deserved after being caught red-handed in the royal chambers, attempting to steal what might’ve been a national treasure from a vanished prince.
I eyed them, but their hardened, unyielding expressions showed no signs of a pending punchline. Guest chambers were for nobles and dignitaries, not thieves who bit royal guards and flirted with prison chains. “Guest roomisn’t some charming code for gallows or execution block?”
Their continued silence wasn’t reassuring. I could think of no reason a pair of reclusive monarchs—who’d all but vanished from court life since their son’s disappearance—would extend any manner of hospitality to a thief…especially one who had not only broken into their home, but possibly touched something meant only for royalty.
One of a thief’s greatest fears was uncertainty—far more dangerous than even fumbling in the dark, where at least I could attempt to navigate.
The keys scraped in the lock with brutal finality and they stepped aside, motioning for me to follow. One reached out as if to guide me, but I flinched away and glared. Wherever they were taking me, I would go with my dignity intact.
Without a word, I warily followed, more out of curiosity than obedience. If this was another game, I intended to learn the rules fast…and how to win them even faster.
I made note of doors and memorized every turn we made, but the guards kept tight formation around me as though anticipating I might bolt. And at the moment I was too intrigued to escape without knowing where they were taking me…and why.
The corridor twisted and ascended, leaving the weight of the dungeon behind. The air warmed and the light gradually brightened. Soon we reached a grand door carved with ornate patterns and crowned with golden trim.
One of the guards opened it and my breath caught.
This wasn’t just a guest room, but appeared to be a suite reserved for foreign dignitaries or minor royalty. My gaze skimmed the room, taking in the polished marble floors and the high-arched windows gently glowing with the sheen of enchantment that would undoubtedly prove an impenetrable barrier blocking my escape; whatever magic protected those windows wouldn’t be undone by lock picks or brute strength.
The ornate furnishings were comprised of a dressing screen, a gilded mirror, a carved vanity, and a wardrobe whose handles gleamed with gemstone inlay, elegance I doubted possessed an interesting history for my powers to explore. The bed dominated the far end—canopied in sheer white gauze, with a mattress so plush it looked as if it could swallow me whole. Every inch of the room whispered wealth, soft luxury, excess…and it made my skin crawl.
“Forgive me,” I said with mock sweetness. “Am I being promoted or executed? The lines are a bit blurry in this kingdom.”
I didn’t expect an explanation, and the guards didn’t seem inclined to provide one. “We’ll return in the morning. We’ll bestationed outside your door the entire night. Don’t even think about attempting to escape.” For the rigid security, his tone held a hint of doubt I’d still be here. I smirked. At the very least, I’d left a memorable impression.
