Unfortunately, the key did not open the spire door. Foolish of me to hope that it might have, yes. What did it open, though? If I was to be confined for weeks, I wouldn’t have a chance of finding anything. I needed a fresh plan on how to operate around here.

  Blending with the staff was impossible since there were no staff. Blending with the interior was unwise since the interior seemed to possess a mind and magic of its own. Whatever that was about. Even the Prince had been confused about the castle’s magic, back when I mentioned it gave me the red dress. It was safe to assume no one here knew what the castle magic was, so I decided to not spend any time divining its mysteries.

  This left me with two options. If I wanted answers, I had to either interact with Darsan and his men or with the Prince. That was unfortunate. Darsan was a block of ice and his master was a block of stone. Well, perhaps not all hope was lost…

  It was a little after dawn, I assumed. The sun’s orb was hidden behind a solid fog—grey as undyed wool. It surrounded the castle and dimmed any light daring to pierce through, much like a shield. After spending the night huddled against the stone, shivering, I missed the warm caress of sunlight on my skin dearly.

  I walked to and fro to warm myself up a little when I heard footsteps climbing the stairs. The sound deafened to a stop. Whoever it was, they lingered by the door, listening in. I rolled my eyes, continuing my spirited patrol. Twas likely that they hoped I’d have died overnight.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I am still very much alive and well!” I announced. Only if I could turn vexation into heat, I would’ve been warm all night.

  To my surprise, it was the Prince’s strained voice that came from behind the door, “How did you return?” He sounded… worried. That his magic might be failing, I supposed. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who spent the night overthinking.

  “It takes more than you think to contain me.”

  “Answer me,” he insisted. “How did you pass through?”

  “If you think I’ll tell you while you hold me locked here like a pet animal, you’re sorely mistaken,” I chimed. The sheer insolence of this man, to interrogate me and demand answers while standing behind a locked door.

  No other noise but the wind swished around the spire. After an unusually long pause, the Prince spoke again, “What do you want in return for your answer, then?”

  “Freedom, sire,” I walked up to the door. “Freedom above all. From this room, this castle, this kingdom. But I’m bound to your foul presence instead. Wretched me.”

  Something like a growl came from the other side, “Well, your presence is not a first-rate delight for me either, but here we are again! Apparently, I cannot get rid of you for good. Something has let you come back. Tell me who or what it was, and I’ll…” his voice trailed off, and then, finishing reluctantly, “give you something you desire in return.”

  “A bargain?” I smiled. “I love bargains.”

  “You’ll stay in the spire, don’t think of asking for that as part of the bargain,” he added coldly.

  I scowled. “That’s why no one loves you, my lord.”

  “Name something else you want.”

  “Alright, I want my blankets. I’m cold.”

  Another pause. He seemed somewhat disappointed that I yielded so fast. Or perhaps my demand was too uninteresting. “From your bed? That’s simple.”

  “Well, you narrowed down my choices significantly!” I bristled, feeling anger rise in my chest again. “What did you expect, that I’d wish for a night with you?”

  He said nothing. Both my brows went up. He probably did expect something radical of the sort. Like I would pick him when he had those dark angels for knights.

  “Blankets, it is,” he said.

  The blue Carnival dress I wore was too thin. My shirt was wool, at least. It would keep me warmer. “And my clothes!” I shouted after him.

  And then he disappeared once more.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Darsan appeared next to bring me food. It bothered him that I stared intensely at his face, though he didn’t inquire after my reasons for it. With how I had behaved so far, I was sure he feared I’d start wooing him again. That was not my intention this time. His face interested me. This Darsan had a softness to him. Not like his Carnival twin.

  I had no company for several long and lonely hours before the commotion of knights appeared at the spire door. Two of them carried my blankets and clothes, while Darsan held up a torch to light their way in.

  Before I had realized it, darkness had fallen and had left me disoriented. There was barely any afternoon, the sky ever so caliginous with looming clouds and impenetrable mist endlessly seeping down. I could hardly tell day from night.

  The Prince’s silhouette shifted from Darsan’s side when the knights left my stuff and walked out in obedient silence. Darsan remained behind the threshold, casting weak torchlight down the steep staircase.

  “You must be proud of yourself,” I sneered. Taking such good care of his prisoner.

  “Well?” the Prince prodded. “How did you pass through the painting?”

  “I didn’t pass through it, I rolled out of it like a barrel. And I’ve absolutely no idea,” I said and began humming a melody as I busied myself with the newly arrived blankets. I folded the soft fabric on the ground to make for a better sleeping place and stepped back to have a look. It almost looked cozy.

  The Prince came to me, like a black shadow in the corner of my eye, and grabbed my arm harshly. I blinked at him with surprise, and instinctively leaned back against the column of stone a little when I felt the immense darkness ripple from him. The closeness was highly uncomfortable, especially since he was looking at me with that vicious glare of his. Behind him, Darsan watched us with cool indifference.

  “Sarai,” he began, in a calm, conversational voice, so contrary to the sharpness in his eye, and only gave me a single hard squeeze before he let go of my hand, “give me a serious, straight answer, so that I don’t have to wring one out of you. I dislike violence.”

  “I can see that,” I nodded. Wonder what violence was in his mind, if this was just casual talk. Wonder if he would just throw me off the edge if I dared smack him over the face. Perhaps I should throw him off the edge. The temptation was real, with how close he was standing. “It’s alright. You’re frustrated, I understand. No one has ever breached the limits of your magic before like I have… If it’s yours at all.”

  His eyes flickered beyond my shoulder and then back to me. Rapidly, not to miss my chance, I glanced over my shoulder too. The muffled light of that lantern at the border of the forest was the single thing to capture my attention. Before my gaze could linger, he tugged at my sleeve to focus me on him.

  I faced him. The magic was likely not his, then. If I had to make a strong guess, it would be that I would find my answers at the border of that forest.

  “It was you,” I whispered, a little smirk on my lips.

  “Excuse me?” his brows furrowed.

  “You helped me pass.”

  “I warned you—”

  “I’m telling the truth,” I interrupted his threat.

  It was in vain; he did not believe me. I feared he couldn’t. Whatever this magic—or curse—was, it erased all his dreams of the Carnival; there was no hope for him to recollect.

  But there must have been glimpses in his memory at least, because I saw fractures of the Carnival King in him. They permeated through the darkness, in that occasional glimmer of amusement in his eye, the inapt quips that fell off him accidentally, this utter misery that weighed on his shoulders that was unnatural. The joyful feasts have only remained in his dreams and his paintings, even though all his senses longed for them.

  “You dreamed of me,” I tapped his arm in the same friendly way I did the Carnival King, “remember?”

  His eyes came alive in a brief moment as he looked up at me with a bright acknowledgment. Something crashed down—it sounded like stone rubble—and rolled down the stairs, and we both blenched at the rumbling sound. It snapped him back to reality, and he scoffed immediately.

  “Your tricks wouldn’t work on me, you hex,” he snapped. “Hopefully the cold will have crushed your high spirits by tomorrow. And if not,” he walked away from me, “then I’ll keep you here until it does.” The door swung and bashed closed, the slam so forceful that another block of stone chipped off the floor. It made me jump back, eyes widened.

  Silence fell, filled only with my wild, racing heartbeat. Was that what the Carnival King meant when he said there was not much time left? The castle… falling apart?

  I sighed. Answers would not reveal themselves to me without effort, unfortunately.

  First things first, I went on all fours and approached the edge cautiously, examining the state of the spire. Particularly, how much distance there was from where I stood down to the roof of the wing. As much as my poor eyesight could tell, the height was significant, though not too terrible. It would do. Unless the weather turned unusually foul. That would ruin my plan. Well, I could always wait another night for calmer weather.

  Returning to my corner, half-shielded from the biting wind, I took up ripping up the thinner blankets into narrow strips. I smiled to myself as I began tying them together and leaving knots at even intervals. “…as the sun goes down and down,” I hummed on my song from where I had left it. “Sing a cheerful, merry song…”

  Did he just say keep you here?

  As if anyone had ever managed to keep me anywhere against my will in my life.

  I was not made for keeping.