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From the boy’s crossed arms and shaking head, though, it seemed that she wouldn’t need to make the choice. “I said I’m extremely powerful, not a miracle worker. I can go anywhere in the castle, but I can’t pullyouthrough a solid door, and I have no key with which to unlock it.”
Her shoulders sank.
“Don’t look so discouraged,” said the boy. “You aren’t dead yet. That’s a distinct advantage over just about everyone else in this castle.”
“I find that only mildly comforting.”
“I live to serve.”
“I doubt that.”
His eyes danced briefly, but then became unexpectedly serious. He appeared to be considering something for a long moment, before his gaze turned intense, almost cunning.
“All right,” he said slowly, as if he’d only just made up his mind about something. “You win. I’ve decided to help you.”
Serilda’s heart lifted, filling fast with untethered hope.
“In exchange,” he continued, “forthis.”
He pointed a finger at her. His sleeve slipped back toward his elbow, revealing a ghastly knot of scar tissue above his wrist.
Serilda gaped at his extended arm, momentarily speechless.
He was pointing at her heart.
She stepped back and placed a protective hand to her chest, where she could feel her heartbeat thudding underneath. Her gaze lingered on his hand, as if he might reach into her chest and tear out the beating organ at any moment. He didn’t exactly look like one of the dark ones, with their majestic figures and flawless beauty, but he didn’t look half-faded like a ghost, either. He seemed harmless enough, but she couldn’t trust that. She couldn’t trust anyone in this castle.
The boy frowned, confused at her reaction. Then understanding hit him and he dropped his hand with a roll of his eyes. “Not yourheart,” he said, exasperated. “That locket.”
Oh. That.
Her hand shifted to the chain around her neck. She gripped the locket, still hanging open, in her fist. “It will hardly suit you.”
“Strongly disagree. Besides, there’s something familiar about her,” said the boy.
“Who?”
“The girl in the—!” He paused, his expression darkening. “It would appear that you’re trying to be aggravating, but that ismytalent, I’ll have you know.”
“I just don’t understand why you would want it. It’s a painting of a child, not some great beauty.”
“I can see that. Who is she? Do you know her?”
Serilda looked down, tilting the portrait toward the candlelight. “You’re the one who just claimed to know her.”
“I didn’t say Iknowher. Just that there’s something familiar. Something …” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words, but all that came out was a disgruntled growl. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“That’s what people say when they can’t be bothered to explain.”
“It’s also what people say when someone else truly won’t understand.”
She shrugged. “Fine. The girl is a princess. Obviously.” The words were out before she had thought to say them. In the next moment she considered taking them back, confessing that she had no idea who the girl was. But what did it matter? Maybe shewasa princess. She certainly looked like she could be. “But one with a very tragic story, I’m afraid.”
With that mysterious statement hanging between them, she snapped the locket shut.
“Well then, it must not be a family heirloom,” he said.
She bristled. “I could have distant royalty in my blood.”
