Alex raised an eyebrow. What was he talking about? "I thought you hated being touched or being too close to the others."

"I hate it, but I can resist if it's for the sake of His Majesty's mission." William snapped his fingers. The candles on the silver candelabrum resting on a round table flared to life. "That's why I played the part of your lover."

"So no one will get suspicious if we share a room?"

"More or less." William turned to him. "Is that a problem for you?"

Alex shrugged. "No. At least I'll be close enough to stop anyone who tries to kill you."

"I have a feeling you're the real target, Your Highness."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You're a mage—they might see you as a threat. And if you send Caedos away, you'll be defenseless."

William's lips curved in a faint smile. "But I'm not defenseless if you're with me."

Alex scratched the back of his neck. He hated to admit it, but he'd misjudged the mage. William wasn't incompetent at all.

Maybe he was just awkward with people—but inside that head was a mind as sharp as a blade. Was that why his father had chosen him? To balance out his own flaws?

"Do you really think I can protect you?"

William raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"Because right now, I don't have control over anything."

It was the first time Alex had found himself in a situation like this, without Sven and the others watching his back. Without even knowing the enemy's face.

Leading a siege or hunting down bandits was easy. But surviving in a castle crawling with assassins and traitors—especially when the only person he could trust was a mage he'd met only a few days ago—was another matter entirely.

With a sigh, he moved closer to the window and looked outside. Night had wrapped the castle in its dark coils, and silence had fallen like a cloak.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the dark walkways. "That's odd…"

William came to stand beside him. "What is it?"

"Do you see anything?"

"No. It's completely dark."

"Exactly. I told the Castellan to post guards, but there isn't a single soldier on the walls."

"Now that you mention it, I didn't see any inside the castle either."

"Me neither," Alex murmured. "And there are barely any servants around. Last time I was here, the place was full of people."

"Maybe the Castellan reduced the staff."

"What about his family?"

William frowned, meeting his gaze. "Do you think he's involved?"

"I'm afraid so. Which means we can't trust anyone in there."

"Do you trust me?"

"I don't know yet. But I have no choice."

Alex couldn't allow doubt to take root in his mind, or he'd lose the ability to see things clearly. But the question remained—could he really trust William?

"For now, let's send a message to the palace."

William nodded and retrieved the grimoire from his bag. He opened it, and magic flowed from his hand, and a faint silver glow lit up the room. The pages rustled softly.

Alex watched in silence, holding his breath, eyes fixed on that slender, graceful profile. The magic brushed against his bare arms and played with the golden strands of his hair with the same gentleness as a breath of wind.

It was a breathtaking sight, one he could have watched endlessly without ever growing tired of it.

A silver sphere settled in the mage's palm and burst into countless weightless fragments. A breeze carrying the scent of spring and blooming flowers swept through the room, and Caedos opened his jaws wide, trilling.

"Took you long enough, Will!"

"Keep your voice down. It's the middle of the night."

"Such a killjoy." The amphiptere turned its little head toward Alex and huffed. "The little prince is here too."

Alex forced himself to smile, though deep down he wanted nothing more than to flee the room. He doubted he would ever get used to that talking winged serpent.

William pinched the familiar's wing. "Caedos, you have to carry a message to the king. It's urgent."

"Can't you send a pigeon or a human?"

"They might be intercepted. You're much more reliable."

The amphiptere let out a chuckle. "Of course I am! I'm not some frail mortal or one of those dim-eyed birds."

"Don't be unpleasant."

Caedos flicked his wings, letting the scolding roll off him. "What should I tell the old man?"

"My father is not old," Alex muttered. "He's not even fifty yet."

"Isn't that considered old among humans? You're all so fragile."

"Caedos," William chided, "show some respect to the sovereign. He's given us a job."

"And what do I care about that?"

William frowned. "Don't make this difficult. It's a matter of life and death."

Caedos clamped his jaws shut and shot Alex a glare. "What did you do, little prince?"

A chill of fear slid down Alex's spine. "Nothing! It's not my fault they tried to kill us."

"You put Will in danger?" the amphiptere hissed.

A faint glow slithered along his iridescent scales, and a gust of icy wind whipped through the room, snuffing out a couple of candles.

Alex jumped to his feet, more on reflex than anything. If that little monster attacked him, he'd have no idea how to defend himself.

"Enough, Caedos." William's voice rang out, sharp and cold. "It's not His Highness's fault."

The amphiptere snorted, curled up on the mage's shoulder, and rubbed his snout against William's neck. "I don't want to go. Can't you send someone else?"

"No. You're the only one we can trust."

"But if I leave, you'll be defenseless. You're a weak mortal, Will—how will you protect yourself without me?"

William's lips curved into a faint smile as he stroked the creature's tiny head. "His Highness will look after me."

"The cowardly prince?" Caedos hissed. "I don't trust him."

"I do. He gave me his word, and I believe him."

Alex flinched, a pleasant warmth spreading through his chest. Even if the mage had only said it to convince the amphiptere, he still felt a spark of warmth hearing it.

Caedos puffed a small cloud of smoke from his nostrils. "He'd better keep his word."

"He will."

William sat down at the table and began to write the message.

Caedos fluttered over to Alex and dropped into his lap. "Will's my human. You'd better keep him alive until I get back."

Suppressing a shudder of disgust, Alex leaned back. "I'm good with a sword."

"I know." The amphiptere tilted his head. "You know he's sick, right?"

"Yes. I'll make sure he doesn't get hurt—don't worry."

"You're really too kind for a prince."

He fluttered onto Alex's shoulder, and the prince stiffened. Why was the little beast getting closer? Couldn't it just go back to the mage?

The amphiptere sniffed his neck. "Blood runs through both your past and your future." His yellow eyes locked onto Alex's. "I haven't decided yet whether I like you, but if he trusts you, then I trust you. Besides, there's nothing I can do to stop your threads from intertwining."

"Our threads?"

"The weave of fate. You can't see it, but I can." He lowered his gaze to Alex's chest. "And I can tell they're already quite tangled."

The prince blinked in confusion. What on earth was he talking about? Fate? Threads? Was he implying he was bound to William in some way?

Caedos snorted a puff of smoke. "Well, in theory you should be able to feel something—but you're a bit dull. Will probably have figured it out already. Who knows why he hasn't done anything yet."

"I'm not slow. You're the one speaking in ridiculous riddles."

Caedos looked at him with ancient, wise eyes. "You'll understand in due time. Only fools try to force the flow of events."

William called him back, and the amphiptere fluttered to the table. The mage handed him the message, opened the window, and Caedos took off, swallowed by the night.