A bark of laughter, and Leopold withdrew. While Safi settled herself in the armchair he had just abandoned—there was no other chair—Leopold closed the curtains. They were thick velvet brocade, blood red like everything else in the room: the four-poster bed and its coverings, the rugs woven with golden double-headed eagles, and even the tapestries draped over most of the stone. It was almost overbearing in its masculinity, yet somehow thoroughly devoid of any personal touch. Safi could only assume that, like everything else about the prince, this space was cultivated and groomed, while Leopold’s true self stayed tucked away.

As Leopold strode back toward the fire, Safi withdrew her Truth-lens and pressed it to her eye. A shattered image of the prince crossed into view, and though she could not see him clearly, she could sense he leaned against the fireplace’s enormous oaken mantel.

“We are safe to speak?” she asked. “About real things?”

“Indeed,” he replied, and the lens made no change. “I am sure you have a thousand questions—”

“Why did you betray us?”

“Ah,” he exhaled, posture tensing. “You waste no time in getting to the point. However, before I answer…”

Safi dipped the lens and watched him lift both arms and declare, “Lower.” As one, every wall sconce dimmed. “Lower, lower,” he repeated, and they dimmed more and more until at last, they were snuffed out entirely and the only light came from the fire’s continued radiance.

He offered a shadowy smile. “More romantic, would you not agree? Now all that’s left is to latch my door, and we may proceed.” After doing as he’d said—with three latches on his door, and two of them Aetherwitched with lock-spells—he strode to the armchair and reached for something at Safi’s back.

She twisted about and realized two black scarves were draped behind her. She’d thought them decorative, but now Leopold was wrapping one around his shoulders and offering her the second. “Where we are going gets cold,” he explained. “This will help with the chill.”

“Where we’re going?” She accepted the scarf and stood. “Is there some secret way out of here?”

Leopold smiled slyly. “Guessed it in one.” He strode past the fireplace to an iron sconce on the other side. With a fist, he knocked the stones three times. Air whooshed outward, gusting against Safi, and her Hell-Bard senses ignited.

Magic, her skin whispered. Glamour! And before her eyes an entire stretch of wall disappeared. A single heartbeat later, an archway revealed stairs spiraling downward out of sight.

Leopold’s smile widened, and with a mischievous cant to his eyebrows, he beckoned for Safi to follow as he set off into the darkness. The staircase was as ancient as the rest of this wing.

“What is this place?” Safi asked, her voice a mere whisper.