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As in the other hallways, portraits and tapestries lined the walls, but these did not show white bears or the fae of the royal family.
Rather, faeries dressed in exquisite violet gowns and doublets stared back at me, landscapes of places I’d not been, and most peculiar of all, a painting of two faeries flying with white hawks.
My hand flew to cover my mouth. Had I stumbled into a part of the palace hidden magically from the Aabergs? But how did I get here? Chills dashed down my spine.
Was I the first person in two decades to see this place?
Unable to help myself, I continued exploring. A violet silk dress stood on display in a case. Below it, a plaque stating that it was Sassa Falk’s coronation dress. Another display held a steel dagger crafted by a dwarf king in the mountains and gifted to an early Falk king. Dust covered every surface, hinting that no one had been back here in a long time. This had to be part of the palace that the royals could not access, and the castle had shown it to me. Did it show it to me out of goodwill? Or perhaps it had taken pity on me?
I found the idea that the palace had a personality, a will of its own that it exhibited, odd, but no matter. When pitted against stronger and vengeful fae like Calpurnia and her gang, I’d take a little pity and protection. Some fae might believe me weak for thinking that, but they probably had magic to defend themselves. And I was not too proud. At least not most of the time.
Continuing on, I marveled at the art, all the blatant Falk imagery. One image showed the late King Harald, his wife, Revna, and their many children sitting for a formal portrait. The king stood next to his wife, who was the only one sitting. King Harald looked much like King Magnus, with long white hair and bright blue eyes. Considering that King Harald was King Magnus’s uncle, that did not surprise me. I shifted to the queen. Stars, she was stunning. With long black hair, violet eyes, and a jawline that could cut diamonds, the queen commanded the portrait.
Four males, three of them adults and the other around thirteen turns of age surrounded their parents. In her arms, the queen held two infants swaddled in violet blankets. The infants’ faces gave no clue as to their sex.
The Falk brood had been large indeed. Happy looking too, I thought as I took in the smiles and the mischievous expression of the younger boy.
Stars, King Magnus would have a fit if he knew all this was back here.
I had moved on to examine a painting of a battle, one titled Sassa’s Revenge, when a sound filtered through the hallway. I stilled, listened.
Is that . . . singing?
I stiffened. Had I been wrong and someone else lingered in this area? A male, judging by the voice.
Taking greater care to keep my footsteps soft, I followed the sound. The closer it got, the curiouser I became. How could someone know of this and keep it a secret? Was it the rebels?
While I should have been terrified by that notion, I was actually far too curious to stop. After a few minutes of searching, I reached a point where the person singing sounded so close; it was like they stood beside me. But they weren’t there.
Spinning on my heel, I took in the area again. No fae hung around this hallway, but two doors stood on opposite sides of me. I veered to the right, opened the first one. A study or den of some sort revealed itself to be empty. Pivoting, I went to the other door and opened it to find myself in a smaller hallway. Or maybe a long entryway?
I glanced left and right and saw no fae, but to the left were other doors. One was slightly ajar, revealing a bathroom.
The singing was so close, and I thought to the right, where the short hallway seemed to open into a room. Perhaps they were just around the corner? I shut the door behind me and began to investigate, stopping only when the hallway funneled me into a room.
A bedroom.
In which Prince Vale stood, shirt off, polishing his long sword.
I couldn’t even appreciate the beautiful sight, for my heart rate spiked as realization of where I was set in. The room the prince stood in was relatively clean, with clothing tossed over a chair, but not a speck of dust in sight. The door I’d taken somehow funneled me into the prince’s private suite.
Blood thrumming in my ears, I backed quickly into the entry hall again, determined to make it back to the hidden part of the castle to escape. But that plan came crashing down when I tripped over my own feet, fell flat on my arse, making a racket that no one could fail to hear.
“Who’s there?” Metal clanged. Footsteps sounded and stopped. “Lady Neve? What are you doing in my chambers?”
“I—I got lost.” I picked myself up off the floor and did my best to keep the color creeping up my neck at bay.
“How did you get past my guard unannounced?” Prince Vale frowned and glanced at the door at the end of his entry hall. That must be the door to the main part of the palace, where his guard would stand.
I swallowed. How would someone like me have gotten by a guard? I could pretend like his guard had announced me, but the prince hadn’t heard because of the singing. Would that work? Or did I show him the door?
Quickly enough, I concluded I had to show him. Roar and I had just earned the king’s blessing, but that could be taken away in an instant. Especially if they thought me a spy. Or worse, a rebel. I would be better off taking my chances with Prince Vale and telling the truth.
“Over here. There’s a door.” I went back to where I’d exited into the short entry hallway leading to his room. When I reached the spot, I pressed my hand against the wall. As there was no handle, I thought that it would swing inward. It did not.
The prince narrowed his eyes. “Do you take me for a fool, Lady Neve?”
“No! There’s a hidden hallway behind here and tons of rooms! I promise. I—” It hit me then that the reason I could not locate the door was because Vale Aaberg was not a Falk. Certainly, his father carried bastard Falk blood, but King Magnus had also killed his entire biological family. King Magnus and his children were not Falk in the ways that mattered. The palace would not protect him, like it did me—a nobody.
