I studied the maze before me, searching for a hint of red.

There were no flags to be found, red or otherwise, and the hall was bereft of a guard to ask directions from. I was on my own, but comfortable, for I preferred solitude to any companionship offered by the castle.

Confident I could find my way, I started in the direction I remembered coming from.

Silent doors eyed me as I went, so many I lost count, and every time I tried to open one I found it locked tight. I began to fear I was doomed to roam the castle until I starved and became a forgotten pile of bones and dust.

I spied light around a corner and followed it, stopping before a massive door built from white oak. It was closed, and the light I'd seen was spilling from a hole the size of a mouse that had cracked in the wood and widened over time. I heard voices on the other side, so I peered into the hole to spy their owners, hoping they might oblige me with a way out. I had a limited view of an extravagantly furnished room, filled with brass-armed and velvet-cushioned chairs, swaths of heavy drapes, and a canopy of sheer muslin falling over a bed that could fit a family. A great fire lit the place, casting an almost holy glow on the boy in the bed, who was propped into sitting by several pillows. 

The prince. This was his room.

Amidst the sea of blankets he looked absurdly tiny, like a child's doll left to stand watch. He'd been bathed and redressed in a loose robe, and the expression framed by a mop of wet hair was gloomy.

Standing next to the bed and holding the prince's wrist was the silver-haired physician who had escorted him from the kitchen. He leaned down and pressed his ear against the prince's hand, and after making some sort of odd calculation his face scrunched into disappointment. He released the boy and turned to write on a long parchment, while the prince's eyes remained fixed ahead at something beyond my line of sight.

I was just about to turn away and resume my quest to leave the hall when the physician spoke.

"The medicine worked, my prince. There is a little murmur, but your body is stable."

"No thanks to that dog," the prince spat.

I winced. The boy's thoughts were on me, and they were dark.

"Come now, didn't you enjoy your hour outside?"

"How could I? The sun is too hot and it hurts to walk. And it always ends the same way."

"All the more reason for you to remain cautious in any exercise."

"It was the dog's fault this time."

I couldn't be blamed for his ailment. It wasn't my fault that instead of telling me flowers posed a threat, the prince had made up a story about invisible bugs before happily taking the dangerous plant and shoving it up his nose.

Why had he lied to me, when he knew his life might be at stake?

"I want it beaten," the prince continued. "I want it to suffer the same as me."

"Now, now," the physician said with a cluck of his tongue, "the boy is your father's guest. And you know he didn't truly mean to harm you."

"I don't know that. It's a monster, maybe a spy. Why does Dada allow it to live? He even invites the disgusting thing to dine with us!"

"Don't work yourself up."

"It should be tied up outside on a leash."

"You know why the king keeps his company."

The prince grumbled in reply and the physician placed a hand on the boy's head.

"You cannot take your passion out on him, but there is one who can receive your revenge if you wish to have it."

The prince's lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Get on your knees," he commanded, and it took me a moment to realize he hadn't spoken to the physician, but to the unseen focus of his attention straight ahead.

Whatever it was obeyed.

"Now bark like a dog."

A small voice loudly exclaimed, "Woof! Woof!"

It sounded like a child. The prince clapped his hands in delight.

"Keep barking!"

"Woof woof! Woof woof woof!"

The prince fell into a bout of laughter but the physician was quick to remind him:

"Not too much now, my prince. You don't want another fit so soon."

The prince's glee melted into a scowl.

"Woof!"

"Stop barking but stay on all fours."

The voice went silent.

"You're a little dog now," the prince said, "and you've been bad. I hate bad dogs who won't do what they're told." He considered his next command before giving it. "Hit yourself."

I heard the sound of a hand slapping skin.

"Again," ordered the prince. "Harder."

This time the slap was followed by a whimper.

"Three more hits, bad dog, and I want them to be on your face. Hard. Or I'll make the physician cane you."

After a pause, there were three distinct strikes, and each one made a sharp, stinging noise. The whimpering grew to a yelp of pain.

The unseen child began to cry.

"Are you satisfied, my prince?" the physician asked dully, his eyes never once glancing over to the one in pain.

"Not really."

"Would you like him to hurt himself again?"

The prince thought about it before shaking his head.

"I want him to do something else."

"What is that?"

"Make a peasant bring a basket of flowers from the garden."

"Is that wise?"

"I'm not going anywhere near the nasty things. I want him to shove his nose into the basket and breathe as deeply as he can. Maybe bugs will crawl on his face and bite him—tell the peasant to pick flowers with bugs."

"I'll send for it right away."

The physician moved to the door and I raced around the corner of the hall to hide myself. If he found me, I had the excuse of getting lost, but I didn't want him to see me unless by accident. He took the path away from my hiding spot, and when he disappeared behind a door I moved back to spy on the prince.

"You're nothing," the prince said to his mysterious companion. "Nobody likes you. Not even your own family. You're fat and ugly and it would be better if you were dead. Nobody would miss you. Not for one day, not even for one hour."

He was met with silence, which seemed to spur his hatred further.

"I'll have them bring up last night's cake, dozens and dozens of slices. I'll watch you eat it until your bloated body bursts. You'd probably enjoy all that eating, wouldn't you? Answer me, fat ass! You want to eat cake until you burst, don't you?"

"I do what Your Highness commands," a boy's voice softly replied.

"What if I command you to jump off the highest tower?"

"I...I would do it."

For a terrible moment I feared the prince would give such a command, but he snorted and waved his hand.

"I don't like your face, but you're better company than the dog. Did you hear what happened? It attacked me in the garden only hours ago. It's quickly showing how savage it is."

My hands curled into fists. It was a lie, and no doubt the prince would tell it to any who would listen. Gossip would spread through the castle, and everyone would believe I was a monster.

It doesn't matter what they think, I told myself.

The prince was doing me a favor, for the more people kept their distance, the better.

Footsteps echoed behind me and I dashed back around the corner. I peered from behind it in time to see a female servant holding a basket overflowing with pink flowers, trailed by the physician.

"Keep them away from the prince," he ordered before they entered the room. "Go immediately to the whelp."

I didn't stay to watch what came next, for my stomach was already twisting with anger. I went through the door the physician and servant had come from, into another hall of stone. At the end of it was a door bearing a red flag above it.

There were guards posted on the other side, and with their help I eventually found my way back to the kitchen.

"It's tricky at first," one polite guard explained, "but you'll learn the path after a few days. You came from the royal wing, eh? No one goes in or out of there without permission from the king or his physicians. That includes guards, so you'll need to learn that part of the castle on your own."

I wondered why such a rule existed until I thought back to what I'd heard in the prince's room. It was one of many scenes, I imagined, that the king would rather keep private, out of reach for those inclined to gossip.

It was chilling to imagine what else might be happening within that sinister, royal wing.