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Halfway up, I found the other man who’d spoken, and he was in a bad way. He was barely breathing, and covered in blood, and as I knelt he shook his head. “No, Iris, go back, I—” He coughed. “I was sent to protect you.”
“By Randal?”
“Yes, he—” The man trembled violently, then fell still, and I knew that he was dead.
Everything was wrong. Why had Randal sent him to protect me? What was the danger? Why not come himself? I stepped back from the corpse, my mind racing, my body numb. Looking down the stairs, I considered doing as he said, but if he was supposed to protect me, how could I be safe down there? I was better off away from here. I knew my way around Aramoor City and could find my way back to the farm if needs be.
Heading up the rest of the steps, I just prayed that whatever had happened didn’t mean Randal was hurt. But when I opened the door leading from his bedchamber my heart leapt into my throat. I didn’t recognize my surroundings at all. Randal said it was a ruin belonging to his father. I’d imagined some tower, perhaps an old toll building on the outskirts of the city or a ruined watchtower on top of a hill. But instead, I found myself in a stone corridor with many more rooms leading off to either side.
Whatever this building was, it was large. And I had no choice but to risk losing myself in it.
The dark hallways were confusing and nightmarish as I followed them. Long and twisting, one blended into another. This old ruin wasn’t just some outhouse or warehouse.
No.
As I followed the long stone corridors and empty halls, I knew exactly where I was: Ironhaven Castle. I knew I had to be right—where else could I be? But the realization made my head spin with so many new questions. Why had he brought me here? What did he mean when he said that the building belonged to his father? Exactly who was he that he had private rooms in the kingdom’s finest and best-defended stronghold? But there was no time to wonder about such things. I had to find my way to safety, and I had to do it fast.
Somehow I found my way to a small door and into a tiny stairwell with worn and slippery steps. I tripped up them, clinging desperately to a rickety old banister, and then slipped through the soft folds of a thick velvet curtain, meant to keep out the cold in winter and the heat in summer. Blinking against the sudden light and sounds, I found myself in an opulent hallway full of maids and servants rushing to and fro, carrying silvery trays and gleaming, half-finished glasses of sparkling wine.
It was disorienting at first, all these people and all these things. My whole universe for the past day had been limited to Randal and our small, perfect world. All of this outside, it seemed so noisy and foreign. And unwelcome.
But inhaling deeply, I steadied myself. From a nearby rack, I took two glass jugs of milk to help myself blend in. I was already, thankfully, in plain dress that easily passed for a servant’s, and nobody gave me a second glance. As the servants and people passed me, I heard snatches of hurried conversations.
“Who knew the king’s son was so…big? And so manly?”
I rounded a corner, searching for an exit.
“I heard that he slew a dragon.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You don’t believe in dragons? Have you seen his scars? What else could cause that?”
I didn’t know who they were talking about, or why. The king’s son? King Bramain didn’t have a son, that much was well known.
“Didn’t you hear what Lord Aaron said? That Prince Randal had spent his life in armed service?”
Prince Randal?
The words rang in my ears and I turned on the spot, looking for the speaker. Prince Randal. I’d never heard of him. Could it be a coincidence, that this prince, whoever he was, had that name? And if it wasn’t just coincidence, what did that mean? My Randal couldn’t possibly be—
I stopped short at the sound of the firm, clear, beautiful voice of the love of my life. He was somewhere close. I had to go to him, I had to get him to explain what was happening.
I followed the sound of his words. “Lords and ladies. I’m sure you all know of my father’s illness. Unfortunately, things have taken a turn for the worse.”
It was definitely him. He had told me himself that his father was unwell. Where is he? And why is he speaking that way about his father, like he’s someone everyone should know? I hurried through the hallways, moving with the flow of servants, following the sound of his voice.
