I liked him much better without the mask—the master was no longer a mystery to me. I knew him, and had known him for a very long time. His face was as familiar as my own, but in person he was not the screaming boy in the dream; his hazel eyes were strong and full of wonder. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me: how is this real? What does it mean?

Adrian offered me his hand and brought me to my feet.

"He's gone," he said. "But the necromancer will not give up so easily. Whatever his plan is, it's nefarious. I could feel it."

I swallowed my fear.

"You must be starving," said Adrian.

We returned to the dining room, my legs only wobbling slightly, and took our places.

I poured myself a large cup of wine and drank deeply.

"I'm glad only you can open the door," I said at last. "As long as it keeps him out. But how can I ever leave now?"

"We'll just have to take care of the necromancer," said Adrian. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips.

"How did you know what he is?"

Adrian hesitated before fixing his eyes upon mine. "I could see it easily. As soon as I opened the door I could sense it; his evil hangs like a curtain around him. But he won't dare try to hurt you here."

"How can you be sure of that?"

He offered me a half smile and sipped his wine.

How can I trust this person?

"I—I think I need some fresh air," I admitted, standing and grabbing my cup. Out in the garden hall, the doors were wide open still; this time, the snow was gone. The chill that had filled the air was absent, replaced with a light coolness. I gasped as I stepped onto the garden terrace; the weather had changed completely.

"It's changed," I said aloud. "I've never seen weather behave this way before."

"Blackhill isn't like other places," Adrian replied.

"And you're not like other people."

We sat down at the top of the steps leading to the garden. I had a hundred questions in my mind—Who are you? What is this place? Why did you help me? But for some reason, it did not feel like a time for questions.

"I think I have to kill him," I said.

Adrian was silent, contemplative.

"I don't know how to kill someone," I added sadly.

"I do," he said quietly.

We exchanged a long glance.

"What do I have to do?"

"It isn't nice," he warned.

"I didn't think it would be," I replied. "But you don't understand; I don't think there is any other way."

The silence was oddly comfortable. For a while we sipped from our cups with the summer moon shining through the muggy night sky.

"I'll be gone tomorrow," Adrian finally said. "I'll meet with you at dinner with a plan."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You really want to—help me?"

"There is more to this necromancer than can be sensed on the surface," he said. "I intend to figure out what it is he is after. Every sorcerer has a weakness—they're full of weaknesses. I can find it."

My hands were shaking, only slightly. "What would a sorcerer want with me?"

Adrian gazed at me for a long moment. "What indeed?"

He held his cup of wine out towards me, and we toasted and drank.

King Peter led his steed down the forest path yet again that hot, summer afternoon. He was no fool; he knew where his son was. He could hear the clash of swords and the occasional echoes of laughter at the bottom of the hill.

The boy is avoiding me, King Peter thought angrily. He knows what he's done.

By the time he reached the bottom of the path and dismounted his horse the fighting had stopped. The clearing his son and his friends used for sparring was bathed in sunlight; the prince stretched out on a bench, a wet cloth soaking at his forehead, and his usual group lounged around, passing a cask to each other and taking deep swigs. King Peter regarded them with reluctant admiration; the scene reminded him of himself at that age. He wasn't always King Peter: once, he was the prince. He was young and handsome, just like Stefan, and much wilder. His youth had been full of adventure and misadventure, but none of that was meant to be for Stefan.

Stefan must stay on this path, King Peter decided a long time ago. He must not make the mistakes I did.

But the prince was stubborn, and would never know how much like his father he really was.

"I didn't see you at the council meeting," King Peter remarked as he stood over his oblivious son. "You were expected this morning."

Stefan peeked through the cloth on his face and groaned as his friends quietly slipped away through the trees, eager to avoid the king's wrath.

"We're going for a ride," said the king.

This part of the forest was deserted, as it belonged to the king, and there were many paths that wound down the hill and toward the village. It was on these paths that the king had taught his son to ride a horse.

"How can I help you, father?" Stefan asked wearily.

The king scoffed. "What is all this madness I'm hearing about a glass slipper? I'm going to give you one chance to explain before I shut this whole thing down."

"There's nothing to shut down," Stefan replied coolly. "I can't find her."

"Find whom?"

"Mary. A girl I met at the ball last week."

The king shook his head in confusion. "What does this have to do with summoning every maiden in the kingdom to try on a glass slipper? Did you know there has been chaos at the gates for hours?!"

Stefan stopped his horse abruptly and glared at his father.

"You told me I have to choose a wife by the end of the summer. Do you know how many girls I've talked to in my life? No—of course not, it has nothing to do with you," Stefan ranted, "And then I meet someone I actually like and she disappears. The only trace I have of her is a slipper left behind. I'm sorry there's chaos at the gates, father, but I'm doing what you asked, whether or not you still want me to. I'm going to find her."

King Peter scoffed again. "Why are you going after a girl who ran away when there are hundreds of suitable girls who would never run away?"

"She wasn't running from me," Stefan said defiantly, "and I think she's in trouble. She may need my help."

King Peter sighed heavily and they resumed their trek down the path.

"I chased girls when I was your age," said King Peter. "And it didn't end well for me. I don't want you to make the same mistakes. Can't you just stay out of trouble?"

Stefan grinned to himself. It was a question the king had asked him all of his life.

"What trouble have I ever been in?"

King Peter ignored him. "Your plan was ill-conceived. You are looking for one girl among thousands, and then you invite them back to the palace to try on the slipper to find her. What did you think would come of this?"

"It's part of my plan, actually," said Stefan. "I didn't think I would find her this way. Actually—I was looking for two others. Two maidens who have claimed to be her step-sisters. I was suspicious of their behavior at the ball, and then I found out she was illegally signed over to the custody of a man named Lord Terrowin. When she ran away from the ball I know he went after her. Father, he's a necromancer."

King Peter furrowed his brow in frustration. Lord Terrowin, he thought. It wasn't the first time he had heard of the necromancer up to no good—in fact, he had been banished by the king's own father a decade beforehand for unspeakable crimes.

"You do not have my permission to pursue this," King Peter said decidedly. "No necromancer business for you. Stay out of it."

"What?"

"You heard me," said the king sharply. "You are my only son and I will not allow you to risk your life for a girl you don't even know."

"I don't expect you to understand," Stefan shot back stubbornly. "But I don't need your permission to go on a hunt."

"A hunt?" The king was beside himself now.

"That's right," said Stefan mildly. "I'm taking my best comrades beyond the kingswood and into the wild forest. They've sworn to help me find her."

"The necromancer is a skilled hunter," the king said furiously. "You do not have what it takes to go up against him. I absolutely forbid it."

Stefan shrugged. "It's done, father. We're leaving at sunrise. Don't be upset—you're the one who threw that wretched ball in the first place. If you didn't want me to fall in love, you shouldn't have interfered so much in my life."

"Oh—you're in love?" The king laughed. "You don't even know what love is."

Stefan fixed him with a cold stare. "As I said: I'm leaving in the morning. And I won't come back until I find her."

The prince dug his heels into his steed and trotted away from his father, up the hill and through the trees. King Peter watched him go with dread in his heart.