Caspian woke up early the next morning. Back at the academy, he had often woken up at this time, and he saw no reason to change his schedule just because his settings were different. After going to the training hall and getting in a good morning work out―while also being careful not to wake Derek, who slept in the small room attached to the training hall―he cleaned up in the washroom attached to his bedroom, then made his way to the kitchen―

"Which floor am I on now?"

―Or at least, he tried to.

Caspian found himself in a quandary, one that kept him from finding the kitchen's entrance. He'd been thinking about everything he'd learned from Derek the other day, even though the desire to forget what the older, more experienced man told him was quite strong. Because he had been so deep in thought, however, Caspian had forgotten to count the number of levels he went down. Only after descending what had to have been several dozen staircases did he finally realize that he was lost.

"Spirits damn it," he swore. "This place is like a maze. There's too many twists and turns, and way too many floors. How is anyone supposed to find their way around this place?"

He wandered the red carpeted halls, ascended and descended stairways with dazzling jewels embedded into the walls, and crossed lobbies that had numerous pieces of artwork― mostly busts of none other than Erica herself. There was no telling how much time had passed. His stomach growled, letting him know that he needed to get some sustenance, lest his stomach eat itself from the inside out. It took a while, a long while, but he eventually found someone who might be able to help him. A maid.

"Excuse me," he called out to the woman, who turned around at the sound of his voice. Her hair, a light brown that bordered on blond, hung about her face in rough-looking strands. She had dark skin, not quite chocolate-colored, but certainly more than what could be found on most people who didn't spend a good deal of time outside.

Like all maids, her outfit consisted of the standard getup― the sole exception being her headpiece, which was much larger than the standard one worn by the other maids he'd encountered thus far. It did an admirable job of covering a good portion of her head. He could barely make out her face, such was the shadow it cast.

"Can I help you?" asked the maid, her voice scratchy and parched, as if she hadn't had any water to drink in weeks.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me where the kitchens are?"

"There are ten entrances to the kitchen. The one on this floor is on the other side of Dorehan Tower."

Caspian despaired.

"What?! Are you serious? But it'll take almost an hour to get all the way over there!" Maybe even longer, depending on whether he got lost trying to find his way.

"In that case, I would suggest going to the entrance on the eightieth floor. When you get there, take a right as soon as you finish ascending the stairs. The entrance will be the only door on your left."

"I understand," he sighed, knowing that this meant he had more climbing to do. He offered the woman a polite bow. "Thank you for helping me. I appreciate it."

"It's no trouble at all, young man," the woman replied. "This tower is quite large, so it's understandable that someone who has not been here very long might get lost."

Grateful for the maid's help and understanding, Caspian offered one last nod before turning around a corner and heading to the nearest staircase.

Several seconds later, he turned back around and walked up to the maid again.

"Um, which floor are we on?" he asked, his cheeks flushing a mild shade of red.

***

Vanya watched as the young man headed toward the nearest stairwell. When he was out of sight, she breathed a slight sigh of relief.

She had not been expecting to meet the one guarding Erica so soon—or at all. At least, not like this. It was her intention to kill him in his sleep. That way he would die never knowing his own fate.

To think I would be forced to kill one so young...

"I am sorry," a voice entered her mind.

"Do not apologize. I knew that this would happen when I chose to help you. I... I will not allow you to shoulder these burdens yourself."

"Thank you." Dranor must have sensed her becoming uncomfortable, for he changed the topic to something less morose. "How does the tower look from the inside?"

"It is large, but unguarded. Aside from the boy, I have not seen a single guard inside of the entire tower."

"These Sorceresses have become quite arrogant in the past few centuries." A snort echoed across her mind. "It is truly unparalleled, their incredible arrogance. They believe themselves to be superior to everyone else because of their power. That's why they only rely on their Knights for protection. And even then, it's only so they can be given enough time to summon a Spirit. It always astounds me to see how conceited they act, despite how the power they so covet isn't even their own."

"That is merely their way."

"Their way is self-destructive and will eventually lead to the downfall of their race. Hmph. I almost wish I could help hasten them all to their final demise."

Vanya always felt a pang in her chest, like a dagger stabbing her heart, as she listened to her mate speak with such hatred in his voice. Ever since they were cast out of their home, he had grown bitter and full of anger. That rage often found its outlet on humans, and Sorceresses in particular.

She had hoped, wished, even prayed for her husband to return to the way he'd been before their exile. So far, her wish had not been granted.

Even so, Dranor remained her mate, the man she loved, her life, and thus, she would remain by his side, even if his rage ended up burning everything around them to ashes.

"Shall I continue surveillance?"

"Yes. Continue keeping an eye on them, and let me know if you happen upon an opportunity to assassinate Erica."

"Of course, my love. I shall inform you at once."

The connection closed and Vanya, still acting her part as the maid, began cleaning again.