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Inez’s tears flow freely. I move to kneel in front of her and draw her towards me in a tight embrace.

“I am so sorry, Inez,” I whisper to her as she sobs into my shoulder. “I am so sorry.”

“Lucian,” she cries. “His name was Lucian.”

We stay that way, hugging and rocking while she cries his name again and again.

???

Later, when the moon in high in the air and the castle falls silent, I toss and turn in my bed, unable to sleep.

Inez’s story haunts me, and a great sorrow wells in my chest when I think of what she went through. Each time I close my eyes, I see her face as she recalls her brother’s death. No—murder. I cannot stand it.

Without thinking, I throw the covers back and get out of bed. Slowly, I creep across my chambers and open the door, peeking through the gap. The hall is empty and quiet.

I sneak out and find the secret passageway leading to the prince’s chambers. It is empty of servants, so I hurriedly make my way through it before I can stop myself. On the other side, a guard lingers in the halls, but his back is turned. Silently, I creep out from behind the secret door and cross the few meters to the prince’s chambers. His door is unlocked, so I quickly open it and slip inside before I am spotted.

“Shivani?” The prince sits on his sofa in front of the hearth, reading. He stands up as soon as he sees me. “What are you doing here?”

“My apologies, Your Highness,” I puff, out of breath from hurrying and from nearly being caught.

The prince glances down my body beforequickly averting his eyes. It is only then I realise I have not changed into my proper clothes, and I am still in my flimsy nightgown.

“Shit!” I gasp. “Oh, Saints, my apologies, I-I do not know what has come over me.”

I whip my head around, looking for something to cover myself with. The prince picks up a heavy blanket from his bed and crosses the room to me. Keeping his eyes on my face, he wraps it around my shoulders until I am covered from the neck down. Shame burns my cheeks.

“I will leave, m-my apologies.” I make to turn around but he still has a grip on the blanket, holding it across my chest.

“Shivani,” he says, his voice serious. “What has happened?”

I look up at him, his eyes wide and full of concern, and I want to tell him but resist.

“It is not my story to tell, Your Highness.” I shake my head. “It…it has just shaken me, that is all.”

The prince studies my face, lips drawn into a thin line.

“Very well,” he says, a deep line between his eyebrows. “But you do not need to leave if you do not want to. You are always welcome here.”

I linger hesitantly. The prince’s room is warm and familiar compared to my cold, lonely bedchambers.

“I would like to stay, please,” I say, and he inclines his head.

We sit on opposite sides of the sofa as he keeps a respectable distance, although all I crave is his touch.

“What…were you reading before I interrupted?” I gesture at the book in his lap in an attempt to distract myself.

The prince holds it up, showing the cover. The room is deep in gloom except for the glow of the fire, but I recognise the looping letters and rambling title.

“Witchcraft?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Indeed.”

He gently places a bookmark between the pages before closing the book. I find myself hypnotised by his hands, large and strong but handling a book so delicately

“I realised my knowledge of witches and au’mana is quite poor,” he continues. I blink away my thoughts and listen. “Seeing as you yourself are a witch, I thought it wise to investigate further.”

“Why is that?” I ask.