They followed Princess Emilia down a flower-covered corridor and down a spiral staircase of stone. With the decrease in elevation was the chill of cold, making the hairs on Solene's arm stand up on end, all memory of the sun gone. 

"It isn't usually so cold," Princess Emilia murmured as she drew her gossamer shawl more tightly around her. 

Willa was the only one who seemed unaffected, her delicate features contorted with concern. Usually, Solene would have attributed this to Willa's choice in clothes. But with what occurred at the Equinox Dance, she wondered if there was more to Willa's cold-hardy constitution than she'd previously thought.

She supposed that Willa did always have an affinity for the Circle of Ice and the Circle of Earth. The former was limited to the Durendal lineage among kitsunes—but perhaps having a witching mother made Willa somewhat of an exception.

They passed through another corridors of empty cells that except for their sterility resembled the dungeons in the books of fairytales Solene read as a child. There were no guards—they'd all been left at the entrance at the top of the steps.

Solene spared a glance at Princess Emilia. As they'd gotten closer to the end of the corridor, the Princess began to shake. 

"You don't have to come with us," Solene offered. "You can wait for us upstairs, if you like."

Relief flooded Princess Emilia's wide green eyes. "Really?" 

Solene shrugged. "It's not like we're friends."

"We were," Willa said softly, wistfully.

"I wouldn't let him out," Solene amended.

"I believe you." A hint of mischief curled up the Princess's full lips. "After all, you don't have the key."

And your magic wouldn't be enough to breach this place anyway.

Or at least, that was Solene's suspicion. 

The Princess retreated up the stairs, while Willa drifted ahead, as if in a trance. Solene scurried to catch up to her.

At the cell at the furthest end of the corridor was where the prisoner awaited them. Ice crept up the iron bars of his cell, and cold air radiated from him like the gales of a hurricane. Solene rubbed her arms as she approached.

She hadn't remembered Valo Durendal looking so small or frail.

He stared ahead blankly, slouched on the bench within the cell as snow drifted from the ceiling, frost covered his fingers. Whatever properties of enchantment covered the cell, they did not prevent the kitsune's power. But he also could not escape—or would not. Solene wasn't entirely sure of which. 

He squinted at Willa's approach. "I must be dreaming again."

Willa ignored the implications and placed her hands around the bars. "I deserve answers, Valo."

"You do." He tilted his head. "No, this isn't a dream, is it?" He looked to Solene pointedly. "I certainly wouldn't dream of you."

Solene crossed her arms—more so for the warmth, but she wouldn't have minded much if it made her look unimpressed or nonchalant. "The feeling's mutual."

Valo laughed. "Is this how my aunt hopes to interrogate me?" 

"She's not here," Willa pointed out. 

"But you'll report to her all the same." His eyes darted back to Solene. "Or that one will."

"I'm just here to keep Willa safe."
His eyes crystallized as he hung on an open breath, like he'd just been kicked in the ribs and had all the air knocked out of his lungs. "I never wanted to hurt you."

If Willa was touched by this, she didn't show it. "You said that we were the children of the same tragedies."

"Ah." Valo leaned back. "So your father wouldn't tell you the truth?"
"Maybe." Willa narrowed her eyes. "Or maybe I just wanted to hear your side."

He stared at her for a long time. Then he pressed his lips together as he raised his shoulders, his expression wary. "All of this began before I was born."

Of course it did. It seemed to Solene like everything happened because of some ancestor, and they were all just forced to rush along downstream based on the original cascade. Maybe that's what fate was—not some grand design or romantic notion of being written in the stars. Just playing out the game set up by the chessmasters of long-ago. 

"There were once three princesses of the kitsunes, two who were sisters, and a third who was a cousin by their mother." He took on the grandiose, affected voice of a storyteller playing to a crowd. "The eldest of the sisters, the heir to the throne, was set apart from her peers because of her power, the Durendal family affinity. The cousin was similar, in that she held the power of the elves in her hands. The two of them were closer than sisters, but the third one was the one they envied for being beloved by the people—and by a servant boy who shared an affinity for ice."

Willa blinked—Valo was talking about her father, Solene realized.

"The two older princesses made a game of it, when they went to spend a year at Greenhill Castle," Valo continued. "The year ended with the youngest princess sending the servant away, the friendship between the princesses was shattered, and the Snowfall Line breached Greenhill Castle, leaving it to be abandoned by the Royal Family."

Solene remembered this now—it was long before she was born, of course, but some history classes talked about the Greenhill Incident, as it was called. The Durendals had never released the finer details to the public—but it had been just another domino in the apocalypse.

"The years came and went after, and the oldest princess became the Queen." At the mention of the Queen, Valo's lip curled, his voice dipped disdainful. "She had an affair, which of course the staff covered up—along with the unfortunate result."

"You mean you." Willa tilted her head. 

Valo ignored her. "Then the boy returned, all grown up, and he and the youngest princess found their way to each other again. When the Queen discovered this, she snapped. She was jealous, and she took her bastard and fled to Greenhill."

Solene stiffened.

"I barely remember this part," he whispered, as he stared past the two girls. "There was so much shouting, and everything was hazy, and then the other princesses showed up and—"

He stopped, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"She left me inside, as my aunt rotted, and the tree rotted with her, destroyed by what she did."

Willa and Solene exchanged a look. Solene's stomach curled, to think of the beloved Queen Rikka of the Kitsunes doing such an awful, heinous thing.

Even what her mother had done wasn't so terrible.

"Time passed differently, with the tree's corruption." Valo looked Willa directly in the eye. "I was sealed inside, only able to survive off of magic—and then Soleil Danaan came."

"What?" Now it was Solene's turn to had the air knocked out of her. Now her very blood ran cold—and it wasn't because of the dropping temperatures around Valo Durendal. 

He'd said before that he was with the Astarte.

Which meant that Soleil. . .

For the first time, Valo's eyes softened on Solene. "Ask your mother what she did. We're alike, in that respect."