My sense of direction is not advanced enough to know where I've been taken, even after looking at the blueprints, but we were walking for nearly 20 minutes through halls, down staircases, past endless closed doors.

The room I was left in is small and enclosed, only a small window letting a slither of the outdoor light in. But I've been here so long the sky has turned dark, my back aching and eyes drooping. It's been so long since I've slept. A fire roars on the wall, lined with musty library books. The guard ordered me to sit in the small, wooden chair in the centre of the room, and then he left.

The first hour or so, I sat back straight, mind and body on edge. But as time passed and nothing came or went, my mind wandered. I don't realise I've fallen asleep until something cracks, and I force my eyes open to meet a pair of dark, blue eyes.

I leap in the chair, dragging it backwards a few feet, my heart hammering.

An elderly man sits in a chair by the fire, his legs folded, and hands rested calmly on his knees, eyes on me. He tilts his head silently as I adjust myself, straightening my back and looking back at him.

"I apologise for disturbing you, Miss Raune."

His voice is so quiet it can barely be heard over the fire; he's so frail the chair dwarfs him.

"Sorry," I murmur, clearing my throat. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You have had quite the journey."

His bald head is speckled with sunspots, face lined with wrinkles. He raises a shaky hand, reaching for a walking stick by his side and using it to help him stand.

"Are you one of the King's advisors too?"

"I am a healer. Please, child, give me your hand."

I tentatively reach a hand out, my fingers quivering as he takes it. His skin is warm and leathery as he turns my hand over, examining the lines of my palm. "Interesting," he murmurs, running a long finger all the way to my wrist. "Not at all like the boy. Though I suppose you are not related at all, are you?"

"You've seen Samu?"

"He spoke highly of you, Miss Raune."

I didn't anticipate the rise of emotion at his words. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep tears from seeping into my eyes. "Is he... is he alright?"

The man does not respond, only fuelling the rising emotion inside of me. I can't stop the stray tear that leaks onto my cheek. The man clicks his tongue. "Do not cry."

I swipe at my cheek, embarrassed. Perhaps it's foolish, but in the presence of this elderly man who seems like he may snap at a loud noise, my guard drops slightly. There's something about him that reminds me of my father—his brown eyes, quiet voice, gentle hands.

"I just want to understand why he was brought here. Why I am here."

"I would like to ask you some questions to understand some things myself while I examine you for injury, would that be alright?" I nod tentatively. "You are an only child, yes?"

"No, there's Samu."

"He was adopted."

"He's my brother."

He pulls a wooden tube from the desk drawer and places it to my chest. "But other than Samu, there are no others?"

"No."

"Did your father ever speak about your mother?"

I never thought about her much, I tried not to. It was only when I saw the way Cadence was with her mother that I wished I could have one of my own. But still, thoughts of here have always been minimal. But now—Myers, Elora, Trina, and this man have all asked about her.

"He said she passed giving birth to me," I say. "I never asked him much more. It saddened him to think of her passing."

"Of course." He takes the instrument away and leans back to look at me. "I was told that when you were brought here, a maid noticed you had some recent scarring on your ankle. May I have a look?"

I lift the skirt of the dress, revealing the pinched and scarred skin around my ankle. The healer lowers himself to peer at it, eyebrows furrowing. "And how did this happen?"

"I was caught in a storm."

"A storm did this to you?"

It doesn't matter how kind he is, he is still a shifter, and I don't know him. Besides, I still don't know what happened the night of that storm in the thick cloud. All I know is that voicing aloud what I remember makes me sound out of my mind. "Yes."

"It must have been some storm."

Chomping jaws flash in my mind, ravenous growls. "It was."

He rises to his feet, supporting his weight with the desk. "Well, it seems you are quite well." I nod as he settles back down in the chair, sighing as if the mere action has tired him. "I suspect you may do well with some rest."

"I'm to go back? Already?"

He observes me closely for a few seconds. It's only then, in the absence of conversation, that I manage a glimpse of the power brewing beneath his frail and wrinkled skin. It lingers in the room—thick, like a cloud.

"I will see you again, soon."

I just stare, rising when the guard returns to the room and gestures for me to follow. I turn back in the doorway to stare at the healer, hunched over his desk and reaching for a pair of circular spectacles.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I was so rude not to ask your name."

The man raises his gaze, a steady smile settling across his face. "Goodbye, Miss Raune."

The guard shuts the door before I can form a response.

#

Despite the eventful past few days, I can't sleep. I find myself tossing and turning in the silk sheets. The truth is my body is on high alert as I stare at the locked door. No servers are stationed outside, no guards, and it's locked from the outside. There's nothing keeping somebody from barging in here and harming me.

Despite closing the balcony doors, a chilly air travels through the room, forcing me to wrap the blankets around myself. I groan, turning to stare at the ceiling and running a hand down my face when I notice the latch has come undone, one of the doors hanging open.

"Thoughts of me keeping you up?"

I leap up so quickly my head slams against the headboard. Killian stands in the balcony entrance, the doors now wide open. I grab one of the pillows and launch it towards him. It lands pathetically a few feet away.

"A little warning would've been nice!"

"Sorry." He steps into the room, shaking the snow from his black hair. "Next time I'll be sure to ask the guards to announce my arrival."

I frown, letting go of the blankets and rising to my feet. "What're you doing here?"

"And here I thought you'd be pleased to see me."

He waltzes into the room like he owns it, making even the furniture seem small in comparison. It would be a complete lie to say his unannounced arrival only serves to irritate me when in fact, it does the opposite, but Killian certainly doesn't need to know that.

"You have to be careful, you know," I say. "I'm sure there are guards crawling all over this floor."

"That's precisely why I come through your balcony. Contrary to popular belief, I don't scale castles for the thrill."

"They could've seen you climbing."

His lips twitch. "Are you worried about me, Freya?"

I scowl. "Just be careful, alright?"

"You have such little faith in me." He tilts his head sideways, taking slow, calculated steps towards me. "Is the girl who recklessly chased after a potential criminal in the forge and begged him to take him with her after he almost slit her throat telling me to be careful?"

"What're you—" My jaw slackens as his words click in my mind. "That was... that was you?" I blink at him in disbelief. I'd been so sure it was a deserter, but then Jax had scoffed at the suggestion. "But Jax said—"

"Though he likes to pretend otherwise, Jax doesn't know about half of the missions Trina sends the deserters on. Which, by the way, let's keep this between us or Trina will have my head."

I still can't seem to muster up a response as I stare at him. My memory of that night is so blurry—it seems like such a long time ago, but the deserter-Killian, had worn a face covering, and I didn't know him well enough to recognise his voice or any other mannerisms.

"You—you almost killed me."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"You were going to slit my throat!"

"But I didn't."

"Only because I fought you off!"

He raises a brow. "Let's not pretend I didn't have you lying beneath my blade. Had you ambushed any other deserter like that, you wouldn't have been so lucky to escape with your life."

"I'm sorry, did you want me to thank you for deciding not to slit my throat?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it does make it seem like I'm the only reason you're standing here alive right now."

I launch one of the pillows at him, but he easily dodges, and it hits the wall behind him. "Asshole." I shake my head. "I can't believe you almost killed me."

"In my defence, I had no idea who you were. We weren't even friends."

"You say that as if we're friends now."

"Aren't we?"

"Friends don't almost slit each other's throat."

I force myself to keep an annoyed look on my face, despite the ghost of a smile on his. "Do tell me, Freya. If we aren't friends, or at the very least allies, then what are we?"

There's something about his relaxed expression that taunts me. As if he can see straight through the hostility and right at the truth—that whatever I feel towards him is something very different than what I feel towards my Casimir or Cadence.

"Enemies," I say eventually.

He grins. "Then I suppose you don't want to come with me tonight to follow a lead?"

I drop my scowl. "What?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's not really something my enemy would want to partake in."

"Killian—"

"First, get dressed." He pauses to drag his eyes down my body. "As much as I like your current attire, you'll probably need something a bit warmer."

It's then that I become aware of the fact that all I'm wearing is a flimsy, silk, nightgown. My cheeks flare. I snatch the blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my shoulders. "Don't look," I hiss, as if we haven't been talking like this for the past 10 minutes.

A grin tugs at his lips but he turns around as I march over to the clothing rack, seeking out a thick, navy cloak similar in length to Killian's. I pull it over my shoulder, tying the knots down the length of my body.

"Okay," I say, turning around. He's already looking at me, nodding in approval. "Where are we going?"

"You want to find Samu, don't you?"

"You've found him? Here in the castle?"

"No. But that doesn't mean we can't gather information that might help us."

I snatch the dagger Killian gave me from beneath the mattress, sheathing it at my ankle and meeting him by the balcony doors. "Are Casimir and Elex going to meet us there?"

"If Casimir knew I was taking you from the safety of this room, he'd forget all about the mission and try to skin me alive." I give him a horrified look. "Emphasis on try."

"This room is the last place I'd call safe."

"Casimir doesn't want you taking any unnecessary risks, which this is. If anyone catches us, it could ruin everything."

"Then why are you here?"

"I know what it's like to feel helpless," he says. "Besides, I could use another pair of ears and eyes."

I slip on the boots at the end of the bed and meet him by the door, pulling the hood of the cloak over my head.

"Where did they take you today, by the way?" Killian asks as he stares down at me. "You're unharmed."

"The healer. He was... nice."

Killian frowns, but doesn't say anything, leading me onto the balcony, gently pulling the doors shut behind him. I wrap the cloak tighter around me, shielding me from the icy air. It's so dark and so high that all I can see is the blur of warm light below.

"Come here." Killian takes my hand as he draws me closer to the edge. I peer over, my stomach dropping as Killian releases my hand and pulls the thick, black rope back over to our side. He reaches for me, reaching his arms around me to secure the rope around my waist.

"I'm-I'm supposed to go over?" I ask. His body clothes me in warmth, arms around me as he knots the rope. When he leans back, he stays close. I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

"Use the stones as footholds, most of them are very sturdy. If you fall—" He holds up the other end of the rope, secured tightly to the stone barrier around us. "— it might hurt, but you won't die."

"How reassuring."

He grins, reaching up to my face. My breath hitches in my throat as a finger twirls a loose strand of my hair, tucking it beneath the cloak. "I'll be right behind you."

My heart races for a multitude of reasons. My stomach coils in fear as I lean over the edge, nothing but a simple rope securing me to the building. Keeping my balance steady, I climb atop the railing, feeling for a ledge to shove my fingers. But I can't seem to leave the security of the balcony, my head screaming at me to turn around and burrow beneath the bed in the room.

"What's the matter, Freya?" Killian whispers from behind. "Scared?"

I look back at him—that taunting smile, those dark eyes and steady hands holding the thick rope. I take a deep breath and then raise my middle finger. He barks a laugh but the sound fades as I go over the side and descend.

~

Are you surprised to find out Killian was the deserter that almost killed Freya in the forge?

If you could meet any person, alive or dead, who would it be and why?

What do you think might happen next?