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“His letter said if you would not step up, he would do so instead,” I finish. Another sob threatens to break in my chest, but I hold it back. “I cannot go back there. I cannot do it. I would rather die.”

The prince glances up at the ledge where I had been hanging from.

“Yes,” is all he says and then he is quiet for a moment.

I shiver in the cool air and pull the blanket closer around my shoulders. Briefly, I wonderwhat he is doing out here, but the thought is cut off when he stands abruptly. He offers a hand. I refuse it and remain on the ground. He does not withdraw.

“I am afraid I cannot help free you,” the prince says. There is sincere regret in his voice, which surprises me. “But I can prevent my father from…”

He does not seem capable of saying the words. His lips are drawn into a thin line.

“If you stay in my chambers occasionally, he will believe the illusion. That I have…taken you,” he tells me. He looks slightly sick. “He will not touch you.”

“How do you know this?”

The prince gives a wry smile.

“Because he will not touch another man’s property,” he replies before looking away. “And I have done it before.”

White-hot anger threatens to spark, but my body is too weary to fan the flames.

“The Never Queens?”

He nods grimly.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘stay in your chambers?’”

“Sleep there,” he says, his voice even.

“In your bed?”

“No. There is an adjoining room with your own bed.”

I regard the prince as he towers above me. His hand is still stuck out in front of him,offering to help me up. I glance up at the window to my chambers. I know this is my only choice but I do not know whether I trust the prince. Evil comes in many forms, and not all of them are obvious. After a moment of contemplation, I reach up and take his hand. His grip is firm as he hauls me to my feet.

“We must make haste,” he says, looking pointedly at where the guard had been patrolling. “We have tarried long enough.”

We head away from the castle walls and back to my prison.

The prince bobs and weaves through different routes, avoiding the guards. I try to pay attention and store the information for later, but exhaustion crawls up my body, slowing me. My limbs are sluggish and heavy. I blink several times in an attempt to clear my mind—all I earn is a worried glance from the prince.

He leads us to an unremarkable wall tucked into a back corner of the castle grounds. I watch him spread his hands and run them across the brick before pressing on one of them.

Click.

The wall comes alive, a door appearing in the brick and swinging open. My eyebrows shoot up, and I take a half-step back.

“How?” I whisper.

The prince looks back at me and jerks his head towards the door.

“We can avoid most of the guards thisway,” he says before heading in. After a moment of hesitation, I follow him.

The secret corridor is dim, lined only with a few low-burning torches. The walls are dusty, and I suppress a sneeze as I step inside. The silhouette of the prince as he walks in front of me is outlined in orange by the torches. He presses on silently.

As we reach the end, he pushes open the door with caution.

After a peek through, he gestures at me to follow. He closes the door behind us—which I realise is disguised as a large portrait of the king—and I see we are outside his bedchambers.