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River shook his head. “I think you’re grieving. Grief takes many forms.” He then tried to remind the prince of their deal. “I will tell you everything I find out about this strange magic, but I can’t do much in here.”
Venard turned to him slowly, as if reluctantly. “I know. Do you understand? Do you understand me now?”
Not at all. This room was morbid, and his idea of trying to re-awaken that dead body was gruesome and macabre, but River understood a little of what the prince was feeling. “I know what it’s like to miss someone.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“We’re different.”
The prince stared at him, his expression blank. “Let’s go, then. We have a lot of stairs.”
That was no joke. They found a spiral staircase and after way too many turns to count, River was starting to get dizzy. “Once there, how do I go up?”
Venard’s face looked eerie illuminated only by the candle he held. “There is a passage embedded in the rock, leading to some stairs. Far from the castle. But you might be well enough to do whatever you do that you just… Puff.”
River paused. “How do you know my magic will be better?” It was odd that the prince had overheard so many details.
“I… I’m assuming. You’re welcome to take the stairs. Or climb. Whatever you feel like.”
River could sense some sign of deception and lies, but he couldn’t quite identify what it was. And he had another question bugging him. “Won’t they know it was you? Won’t it be obvious?”
Venard swallowed. “I don’t think so. How would they guess?”
Then why was he nervous? River pushed him. “And you’re not afraid of betraying your family?”
“My mother. And—” He bit his lip. “Let’s not pretend to be obtuse. Me and you, we are on opposite sides.”
“I’ve been helping your father…”
The prince raised a hand. “No. Not even my father ever trusted you. I’m not sure exactly on which side you are, and how many sides we’re dealing with, but I’m smart enough to know that there’s a chance my family will lose. Ironhold will still need a king. If you’re on the winning side, remember I can be your ally.”
River frowned. This was not even a deal, but he couldn’t let this request float unanswered, knowing he would likely never honor it. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be in a position to have any power over this kingdom’s throne, prince.”
“You don’t know that you willnothave that power, fae. I’d rather have allies than enemies.”
Treacherous allies were worse than enemies, but River said nothing and they kept descending those infinite, dark steps. He wasn’t even sure why that prince was helping him escape. His disturbing obsession with his beloved’s corpse was not a good explanation, especially considering that the people who knew the magic he wanted were exactly the ones he was betraying. Wanting a possible ally didn’t quite make sense either. The prince had no idea that River had ever belonged to the Ancient’s royal family. Good will? No. Ironhold hated his people.
But then, River had better pay attention to his surroundings and to his own magic than waste his focus trying to figure out someone’s bizarre decisions. If this was a trap, he couldn’t afford to be entangled in his own thoughts.
It turned out that the staircase wasn’t infinite, after all. They reached an open area that would look like an old deposit, except that it was empty and had a high ceiling.
“Lovely place,” River murmured.
“I’ve never learned what’s on these lower floors,” Venard said. “And maybe the answer is simplynothing.”
“If you haven’t been here before, how do you know there’s a door?”
“Scurry around and listen enough, and you’ll hear a castle’s secrets.” He stared at River. “I mean, you obviously know that, don’t you?”
River shrugged. “I guess. If only I hadn’t been busy helping his majesty, maybe I would know all about secret doors.”
The prince chuckled. “You wouldn’t. Never thought you’d need them, did you?”
“There are way too many things one can never think, isn’t it so?”
“You don’t think I can be a useful ally either, do you?”
“I’m following you, aren’t I?”
