The clocktower in the eastern wing struck three times. Its heavy chimes surrounded Eirwen where she stood in the courtyard alone. When she'd made the invitation for Ezekiel to return, she hadn't put much thought into when he would come back. If he ever did come back.

Surely five days was a proper amount of time to wait between visits. He couldn't live far if he'd been out on horseback. Maybe he had gone on a trading expedition with his father to somewhere far away and exotic. Everywhere outside the castle walls felt exotic to her.

Eirwen filled most of her hours imagining what adventures she could go on if she was allowed to go anywhere at all. Recently, she'd wondered more about where Ezekiel might go, if they might go together some day. He hadn't told her much about himself, there hadn't been time. Her list of questions grew by the day.

What use was a list if he never came back?

Sun warmed her face while she waited, hoping he'd come back. She could almost fall asleep standing where she was. Falling asleep couldn't happen though, not when she might...

When she might, what?

Eirwen wrinkled her nose and opened her eyes.Why should be afraid to sleep? She always slept so soundly.

"Lost in a good thought?" Ezekiel asked. He was perched on the stone wall, one leg dangling on her side so he could lean down to look at her. There were no holes in his shirt and a new cloak covered his shoulders. His green eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I don't think I was as lost as you. What took you so long to come back?" Eirwen stepped back so he could jump down. She hadn't noticed it before, but it was now easy to see that he was almost half a head shorter than her. It was the first time she'd ever been taller than someone. This was someone she didn't have to worry about.

Ezekiel pushed his unruly brown hair back from his forehead. There was a small scratch running from his temple to ear. "I didn't think you'd be that desperate to see me again."

"I would never be desperate for anything, least of all a visit from some grubby boy," she said. As she turned away from him, he thrust his hand out to present her with a small pink flower. "I suppose maybe your company wasn't unwelcome."

"I tend to have that effect on people. I am very pleasant company." He stepped forward to stand by her side. "Is this place really haunted?"

"Haunted?" Eirwen shook her head and looked at the dark stone walls.

"People in town said no one could live here because it was cursed by an evil sorceress who haunts the castle," Ezekiel said. He wiggled his fingers at her. "Whoever sets foot on these grounds shall suffer the same fate, or so they say."

"I can assure you, there is no evil sorceress and the castle is not haunted." Not that Eirwen couldn't see where the idea would come from. No one had visited in years and the only person who ever went into town was Ryker and no one knew he lived there. She wouldn't have minded a haunting. Maybe her mother would make an appearance.

Ezekiel rushed forward and pointed at a shadow passing by one of the windows. "There! Could that be one of the ghosts?"

Laughter bubbled in her chest. "That's just Heldie, my stepmother. She's certainly not a ghost. Are you always this easily fooled by rumors?"

"You never know what could be real out there. Are you telling me nothing strange has ever happened here? Cold shivers in summer, voices calling your name when there's no one there?"

The laughter died almost immediately. "The castle isn't haunted," she repeated, more sternly this time. A swirling pit was forming in her stomach. The whirlpool threatened to drag her down into an abyss of unanswerable questions.

Suddenly, his hand was on her wrist. "You don't look alright. Should I get you some water?" The boy was already headed for the well before she could stop him. One good tug on the rope and the entire pulley system disintegrated. Bits of wood ricocheted off the sides of the well before splashing into the water below. Ezekiel winced, shoulders jumping up to his ears. "I'm sure that's easy to fix."

"It's fine, it was going to break sooner or later," Eirwen said. " She leaned over the edge of the well. The splashing had stopped completely and as far as she could tell the water was still again. "We'll make do with just a rope for now."

"I could fetch the carpenter from town," Ezekiel offered.

"Is that where you live? The town?" Eirwen asked, pushing away from the well to stand by him again.

For the first time since meeting him, Ezekiel went completely quiet. His attention was on his scuffed boots kicking at the stones. "I don't live in the town." Green eyes fixed on Eirwen to hold her there. "I'm afraid if I tell you, you won't talk to me the same way."

"Don't be afraid," Eirwen said. She took his hand and her jaw dropped at her own boldness. When she tried to pull away he grabbed her hand again and held it tighter. "As long as you're not a murderer."

He laughed, more a bark than anything. "The reason I'm here at all is because my carriage was attacked during another assassination attempt. I'm more or less used to them by now but this one came the closest of all the others. No one else survived this one and I took advantage of that for a week or two of peace."

Eirwen crossed her arms and took a step back. "I'm confused. Why would anyone want you dead?" She scrutinized the short boy in front of her. With his ears that stuck out and awkward angles his elbows jutted out at, he looked like anything but a threat. The perfect weapon really. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest.

"I'm not sure myself. It probably has something to do with my allegiance with my oldest brother. People are desperate for my second oldest brother to become king, you see. I don't have much of a say as fifth in line but they don't care." Ezekiel sat on the steps leading up to the well and leaned back on his hands. Bits of his unruly brown hair brushed his eyebrows.

"Are you saying you're a prince?"

"Barely," Ezekiel said. "Fifth, remember? That's not even counting my older sister. She got married off two years ago though so she's out of the running as well."

"Why didn't you want to tell me about that?" Eirwen sat next to him and hugged her knees to her chest.

This time his laugh was almost a sob. "Anytime I've told anyone they either think I couldn't possibly care about them or they want to use me. I thought if I told you then you would think a prince wasn't worth interacting with. What do I know about the struggles of maintaining a haunted castle?"

Eirwen shoved him by the shoulder so suddenly he almost toppled over. "It isn't haunted." She smiled at him once he'd righted himself. "You're not so bad for a prince though, Ezekiel"

"Zeke, and you can't compare me to the ghosts of the nobles who used to live hare," he told her. "I wish I could just be a normal person, like you. We could run away and do anything we wanted."

"Where would we even go?" Eirwen asked, already preparing her well rehearsed list of dream adventures.

They spent the rest of the afternoon imagining themselves as great explorers, mapping out uncharted oceans and unclimbable mountains. All the while, Eirwen couldn't shake the thoughts that drew her eyes to the northern wing of the castle where she'd lived before her family line dwindled to only her. Could she even be a princess without a claim to the kingdom?

Was she free without the crown?

🍎🍎🍎

Eirwen crashed face first into the heavy wooden door, finally startling herself out of sleep. The corridor was empty and unfamiliar. She pushed back from the double doors to slap her hand against the cold stone wall. With her fingers splayed out along the bumps and grooves she slowly stepped backwards several paces.

Her heart buzzed in her chest like a trapped humming bird until the one familiar sight in the dark caught her eyes. Along the opposite wall was a single tapestry. A nightjar rested atop a tall tree with its tail feathers hanging down like a waterfall. The silver thread was bright against the dark fabric.

Following the thin beam of light, Eirwen found a high window around the first corner. She jumped to catch the ledge and pulled herself up. There was no courtyard outside, only a wild garden. The familiar stabbing pain invaded her head with fresh vigor. The force of it almost dropped her to her knees.

The castle had once boasted a magnificent garden in the northern wing. Tall copper beech trees mingled with douglass firs to block out the sun in summer. The shady spaces in the grass were a favorite picnic place for both the nobles and visiting nobility. Even the staff had their favorite places to sneak in a sunsoaked nap when they weren't needed.

Beds of irises, peonies, and lilies lined the walkways while carefully trimmed roses grew around trellises that arched over benches and formed delicate rooves of gazebos. The highlight of the garden was of course the greenhouse that dominated the center behind the large fountains. The last time Eirwen had been inside they'd been moving the citrus trees there for the winter to nestle among the dahlias and tulips.

Bits of decaying roots tore out of the ground like fingers out of a grave. There were no flowers growing from the dead beds now. Not even bugs made an appearance as Eirwen stepped through the dry dirt.

Unlike most of the doors she came across outside of the southern wing, the door to the gardens had been unlocked. They never came to this area anymore.

Eirwen wandered deeper into the maze of dead plants until she found the pavilion, or most of it. Two of the six columns on one side had crumbled away and a third nearby was cracked along the middle. The roof tipped at a dangerous angle. The seats still arranged inside would be better kindling than seating at this point. Animals had taken the stuffing from the cushions and left behind only faded fabric scraps.

Just on the other side was the sundial her mother had taught her how to read. Eirwen dragged a finger through the heavy grime, revealing the marks underneath. At the center, a nightjar was carved into the alabaster circle. Two red rubies marked its eyes and its tail became the dial that would cast its shadow over the time.

The whispers began again, pulling her back to the castle entrance. The smell of old dirt clung to her. If she passed Heldie or Ryker now there would be no hiding the darkness that covered her feet and spread up her legs in splotches. Old brittle thorns from the dead rose bushes tried to grab her skirt.

Back inside the stone floor was ice against her skin. In minutes she was back at the same doors she had crashed into. Where the garden door was unlocked, these were locked, the door handle covered in spider webs and dust. Eirwen pushed on the handle experimentally to test the strength. Sometimes the older doors gave way under enough pressure.

After having no luck with the door she turned to the hanging tapestry. The fabric was so smooth under her fingers. She could even feel the silky threads through the calluses at the base of her fingers. The top held firm to the metal rod that kept it on the wall.

Eirwen stood on her tip toes but even with the few extra inches her fingers only brushed the middle of the tapestry. She could have left it there, she should have. There was no reason for her to want it and yet she couldn't walk away. She tried again, jumping to tap the pole where it ran through the opening.

"Of all the things to have stayed together, this had to be one of them," she muttered. Where was this enduring spirit when it came to things like the well?

The halls here were empty, devoid of helpful furniture she could have scaled to reach the fastenings. She tried every door in the hall. Even the ones that she was able to open were empty. Heldie had been thorough in her search of goods to sell off.

Outside, the stone benches were far too much of a challenge for her to move. Her feet dug into the stones and dirt but all she managed to do was exhaust herself. It took three through searches through the garden before she spotted the barrel resting just inside the greenhouse doors.

It rolled with all the noise and commotion as a herd of startled deer. This would get her caught without a doubt. Any second someone was going to show up and tell her off for walking off with the barrel.

Except there was no one left to be upset about what she was doing. The only people living in the castle were asleep and on the complete other side. No one cared enough about where she was to be up at all hours of the night.

Eirwen positioned the barrel just in front of the tapestry. It looked so out of place surrounded by stone rather than outside with the flowers, dead as they may be. She clambered to the top with far less grace than Zeke showed when he scaled the wall. Thinking of the shorter boy trying to reach the pole made her laugh out loud in the hall. Would he even be able to reach it with the barrel to help?

She wobbled on her precarious perch but her fingers finally did more than graze the securements. Once she lifted the heavy bar the tapestry was able to slide off and land on the floor in a heavy heap. Eirwen sank to the floor and buried her arms up to the elbow in it. A soft smell filled her nose and tickled something in the back of her mind.

A sweet floral smell mingled with the dirt that still covered her legs. The whispers turned to a lullaby. Eirwen closed her eyes and she could see the imprint of a woman leaning towards her. Sunlight framed her round face. Wisps of the woman's hair floated in a breeze Eirwen didn't feel.

As the image became more defined, so did the returning pain. Eirwen doubled over to muffle a cry in the heavy blue fabric. The smell was even stronger there and it washed over her like a summer breeze. The pain faded only to redouble a second later.

Eirwen lived in the back and forth pain until the very beginning of light began. Exhaustion made her movements slow and shaky as she moved the barrel back to where it belonged. She'd only be able to manage a few hours of sleep if she was lucky now. It would have to do.

Sunlight touched her sleeping face where she lay in bed wrapped in the smell of elderberries coming from the hidden compartment under her bed.