Mortal Fantasy

✴｜chapter ten

The prince seems to avoid the main corridors and suites, from what little I know of the palace, and chooses a back stairwell to descend. He is doing so because he likely prefers not to be seen with me, but I am more comfortable as not to be the focus of the searing stares of every inhabitant of the palace.

"What are you thinking so arduously about?"

I startle a bit—Stephen hasn't said anything since we left my room. "What is there not to think arduously about?"

He tilts his head, still walking ahead of me. "Like what?"

I bristle indignantly. "Perhaps my family, and the people I've left behind, the life I've left behind? Does none of that cross your mind?"

Stephen sees straight through me. "You're thinking about how to escape."

My chest patters in undisguised surprise. I am exceedingly versatile at hiding my innermost thoughts, after years of avoiding the eyes of the golden bloods, and he wasn't even looking at me. Am I that obvious? "You... how...?"

"It may come as a shock, but I'm actually quite educated," Stephen deadpans. "It's quite natural for you to think about it. But I advise you not to, even when it doesn't make much of a difference to me."

I raise my brows. "Oh? So then, why is that?"

"Someone became more daring during that little break," he smirks, glancing at me over his shoulder. "Or maybe you were always like that."

"Flattery is futile. Won't you indulge my question, Your Highness?"

He laughs—I can't help but be drawn to the sound. The texture of his voice is richer and deeper than anything I have ever heard. "Do you ever remember that I am a prince, and that I don't need to indulge your curiosities?"

"But you will," I persist, "because you know that I am entitled to know."

"Well, in that case, I've already told you," he says, resuming a brisk step. "You'll be caught, and killed. A tragedy, because you wouldn't have proved yourself either."

My brow furrows as we fast-walk across a courtyard, into a darker part of the palace—the dungeons? I have no explanation as to why Stephen would take me to the dungeons, of all places, but then my stomach sinks with sickening nausea.

...To show me my place?

No. I shake the thought from my head. He wouldn't do something so...

But who am I to think I know him? In truth, I know nothing about the prince. Am I really able to judge Stephen's character after spending such little time with him?

Walking with long, harried paces, I stare at the cobblestones, mind churning in thought, when I smack my forehead right into an open hand.

"If you're daydreaming about me," Stephen says very innocently, "it's not going to happen, Ithena."

My gaze stabs at him with a flat glare. "No, Your Highness, how could I possibly be so naive?"

He clicks his tongue at me—the upper hand is already his, since I walked straight into it—and gestures towards a large, open-air chamber. It isn't a dungeon, unlike what I had previously thought—in fact, it is a small courtyard, with arching entryways at its base that lead on like a series of mazes. The grandeur strikes me as he takes me into the open air, the sky limitless above us, the night sleek and sown with stars.

Stephen leans against one of the arches, looking at me from beneath lowered eyes. "Beautiful."

"What—" I halt in confusion. "Me?"

He draws a few fingers to his mouth, hiding his laughter. "No, Avonstef. Her."

And up my gaze wanders, to the lofty night sky, where I see a colossal, distinct shadow blocking the view.

And it is soaring right down upon us.