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“Very well. As allies, then.”

I put my hand in his before sliding it up to rest in the crook of his elbow. He smiles so widely, the corners of his eyes crinkle.Damn him. I find myself smiling back.

The prince leads us to a wall lined with shelves. Various vases and books sit innocently on the wood, and I throw a curious glance at him. He reaches behind one of the shelves, and a moment later, I hear a click. Another hidden door. The prince squeezes his fingers between the gap and pulls, revealing the passageway.

“How many secret tunnels are there?” I ask as I follow him inside. I make sure to close ittight behind us.

“I could tell you how many I know of,” he replies, grabbing a torch and leading the way. “But I am quite certain there are others I have not discovered.”

“Howdidyou discover them?”

“There is little else to do other than explore, and I have had a lifetime to do so.”

I fall silent, a twinge of sadness in my chest. For as much as I am trapped in this castle, I have only tasted a drop compared to the prince.

The passageway is steep, made almost entirely of rough-hewn steps. There is no other light except for the low orange glow of the prince’s torch, and I stumble several times.

“Here,” the prince says after my third near-fall. “Hold out your hand.”

He reaches behind himself to hold my hand and guide me up the steps. It is slower but safer. My cheeks warm as my hand clasps his but I remind myself it is only to stop me from falling.

“We have arrived,” the prince announces when we reach the end. I respond by wheezing, my rib protesting with a dull ache.

As we step out from the passageway, a cool breeze brushes over me, and I realise we are outside. I blink and look around.

We are high, somewhere near the top of the castle, where a room used to be, but most of the walls and ceiling have crumbled away. There is enough brick left to shelter us from theelements but the great hole in the corner of the room allows us a wide view of the evening sky. Flickering torches light up the small area, and when I cross over to the wall, I can see down to the grounds below. It is full of servants, the tops of their heads moving around as they find a good viewing spot for the firebugs.

“What…?” I trail off, unsure of what I want to ask.

“The firebugs,” the prince clarifies. “I thought you would like to see them.”

“But…why?”I squint up at him, brows furrowed.

The prince cocks his head.

“The people of Mossgarde watch the migration, do they not?”

“Well, yes.”

“I had hoped this would…” He hesitates and gives me a sad smile. “Be a comfort to you.”

I turn to look out over the wall. We are high enough that I can see over the treetops and into the distance. Where the swamp of Mossgarde ends, and the fields begin. Ice-peaked mountains line the horizon, one standing taller than the others. The mountain housing the city of Swordstead. Somewhere in one of the Three Great Oceans, Frostalm cuts through the sea. The House of Learning. My freedom.

I look at the servants bustling below us, and I know somewhere even further below, deep in the centre of Mossgarde, my Aunt Meena sitsand waits for the firebugs without me.

A great sob explodes from my chest. I clap my hand over my mouth, but it is too late. I crumple to the ground as tears stream freely down my cheeks. My body heaves with each violent sob as though it is being ripped out of me.

“Miss Shivani?”

I turn my face away from the prince, squeezing my eyes shut. Shame burns my cheeks, but he does not say anything more. I feel his presence as he sits near me but allows me my space. I wrap my arms around my knees and cry and cry and cry.

My tears eventually dry, the pain ebbing away but never quite gone. I take a shuddering breath and wipe my face with my sleeve.

“Here,” the prince says softly and offers me a cup of hot tea. I stare at it, startled.

“W-Where did you get this?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

He nods at a wicker basket sitting between us.