Adrian's room was a shadowy, cavernous place, near the top of the castle. It sat between two towers, and the wide windows offered a sloping view of a balcony that overlooked the wild forest. There were so many paintings covering the walls—some looked to be portraits, hundreds of years old accompanied by tapestries woven with strange scenes of magic. There were bookshelves filled with books, cabinets that were closed tightly, and there was a large four-poster bed facing a fireplace framed by a wooden mantle. I stepped in quietly; Adrian was sleeping.

I tip toed around and silently lit the fire in his fireplace. Then, I pulled a chair up beside his bed and opened my book to the first page. Winter's Heart.

"My father used to say that reading could help mend any wound," I said quietly.

His breathing was slow and steady; the blankets were pulled up to his chest and covered the large bandage Martha had wrapped around him.

"And so many nights I felt like I couldn't go on," I continued, "when my step-mother made me feel like I was truly alone in the world. But I always hid books under my bed and stayed awake reading through the night. The stories made me feel brave—and loved, even if I was the only person in the world who loved me. Anyway, I think you'll like this one."

I did not know when Adrian would wake up. Martha was mum about his condition, though she insisted he would heal. There was nothing I could do to help, she said. I disagreed.

I began to read Winter's Heart.

Time floated away. As I read to Adrian the world around us floated away.

Lying upon the bed, his fingers twitched. I stopped reading momentarily in surprise. His fingers twitched again. Gently, and cautiously, I slipped my hand into his and held on to it. Then I continued reading.

A soft snow fell upon Blackhill as Adrian slept.

I sat upon my windowsill and reflected upon all that had happened.

Stefan was searching for me, I realized then. I hadn't even had the moment to think about that. But why did he go after me? Maybe I shouldn't have run away at the ball; maybe he would've protected me then and neither he nor Adrian would be hurt right now. In my wardrobe I hung up Stefan's cloak—the one he had given to me before he was wounded. It was a heavy cloak of emerald green with a golden clasp. Even though I wanted to give it back to him, I couldn't bear to look at it as my guilt weighed down upon me. If there was anything I knew it was that the prince didn't deserve to die. The prince was good.

And hopefully Lord Terrowin was locked away in a dark cell somewhere, never to see the light of day again. In any case he no longer haunted my dreams.

Prince Stefan awoke suddenly, his hair dampened with a feverish sweat and his blood pulsing rapidly through his veins. It was pain that had awoken him, a pain he had not thought to be real.

The wound in his shoulder was no normal wound; the necromancer's attack had a sinister touch. Stefan could feel the poison coursing through his body and it made his blood run cold and his skin burning hot. The one reason he wasn't screaming from the pain was because his best friend Marius had given him an extra dosage of pain serum—so much that the prince could hardly see straight.

"What happened to Mary?" Stefan asked as soon as he was well enough to speak coherently.

Marius' eyebrows drew together as he hesitated to answer. "I don't know."

I had nearly saved her, he thought to himself over and over again, how could I have let this happen?

When he arrived home wounded and unconscious, his father set the castle in a furious discord. Lord Terrowin was brought in, shackled by every limb, and thrown into the tightest cell of the dungeon. King Peter was already preparing an execution for him. The castle doctors were at Stefan's side at every hour, fighting against the terrible fever the wound he suffered from brought upon.

Now that he finally had the strength again to walk despite the agony in his shoulder, Stefan slipped into some robes and called for his guards to lead him downstairs to the dungeons. They reluctantly obeyed him, watching closely his every step in case he suddenly fell unconscious from being so weakened by the poison.

Stefan entered the dungeon alone, ordering his men to remain at the base of the stairs to wait for him. With a single torch, he made his way to the very back of the chamber. When he came upon Lord Terrowin's cramped cell, at first the light from his torch fell upon an eerily empty space.

"Show yourself," Stefan ordered.

Lord Terrowin slowly emerged from the folds of darkness, his eyes gleaming gold in the light, casting dark shadows around his face. His stare was treacherous, but Stefan perceived him fearlessly. He knew he could get him to talk.

"Self-righteous prince, at last we meet. I've heard much about you," the necromancer hissed.

"I've heard much about serpents," Stefan responded, holding his torch up to illuminate his face, "and I understand that the only way to kill them is to cut off their head."

Lord Terrowin's laughter was a repetitive wheezing, for much of the air had been previously knocked out of him by Stefan's guards. "You will ask me where the girl is. I know you've been searching for her. I saw the way you looked at her; I could give you answers. But I won't."

"Your one and only salvation lies in your confession," Stefan declared steadily, "I would kill you right now if you admitted to leading Mary to her death."

"Perhaps I did," the sorcerer conceded indifferently, "for no doubt the Beast ripped her to shreds."

Stefan swallowed hard as his heart dropped in his chest. "You will pay for this. Make no mistake of it. You will pay with the flesh of your blackened heart. I will rip it from your very chest if I find Mary has been hurt."

"We can make a deal." The necromancer suggested suddenly, gripping the dungeon bars with ashen knuckles. "I can lead you to the Beast."

Stefan clenched his teeth, gazing at his prisoner with hatred.

Lord Terrowin rustled his chains as he tried to inch closer. "If you hunt the Beast, you will find the girl. Dead, or alive."

It was his greatest fear that he was already too late. The wound he suffered from prevented him from leaving the castle—it kept him feverish, and the pain refused to subside. It would be at least another few days before he could set out again, seeking Mary. One last time.

"I will find her myself," Stefan declared. "My company will have the advantage of the Beast. In the meanwhile, you will rot here and prepare for the end of your time."

The necromancer again laughed his terrible wheezes. "Does it feel like you have something mortal festering inside of you?"

The prince froze at his words, regarding Lord Terrowin with an icy captivation.

"Because you do," Lord Terrowin's voice lowered to a wicked whisper, "The poison I put on my arrows have no cure. It is killing you, however slowly."

Stefan turned away from him, refuting his words with silence. He began to walk away.

"And the pain only gets worse! You will die in agony!" the necromancer called after him, before breaking into a cacophonic shrieking laughter.

It was Lord Terrowin's first confession.

I stood upon the frosty steps of the garden hall gazing into the night sky. It was resplendent with countless shimmering stars, and a moon so full and glowing that I felt I could reach out and touch it.

This place is so beautiful, I thought. Like it's not even truly part of this world.

I had heard the music again, and it drew me from my room and out to the garden where the cool air sang and glistened. A cup of wine kept me company until I heard someone approach from the hall.

"Good evening," said Adrian.

I spun around and was immediately at a loss for words.

How are you standing here? How are you alive? This is impossible…

He was dressed in dark clothes, and his hazel eyes were rimmed with darkness, which made his skin appear pale—or maybe it was just from the moonlight. I couldn't help but think to myself, how can someone look so fragile and strong at the same time?

"I didn't think you'd still be here," he said. "Since the necromancer has been taken care of."

I gazed at him in astonishment. "You're crazy," I said.

He laughed.

"Yes," I said after a moment. "I think the necromancer has definitely been taken care of. But I'm not leaving until I find out why we are supposed to be a part of each other's lives."

Adrian sighed. He looked tired. "I think I know why. But it's a long story."

"I love stories!"

He glanced at me with a smile as a raven materialized from the night sky and swooped down, landing upon Adrian's shoulder. It squawked and nibbled at his collar.

"Is that your bird?" I asked.

Adrian stroked its feather gently with his hand. "Not a pet, no. But a friend."

The bird glanced my way. "Mary!" It squawked. I stared at in disbelief. I've met this bird before…

"Here," said Adrian, and he approached me with the bird on his shoulder. "You can pet him, he likes it."

I reached out cautiously towards it, my fingers apprehensive. The bird flinched as I traced my fingers down its wings. I withdrew my hand hastily.

Adrian chuckled. "Don't be afraid of him." Gently, he brought my hand up to the bird's neck. The raven blinked and leaned in to my touch.

"You remind me of the girl in the story," said Adrian.

"Hmm? What story?"

"The one you were reading. About the enchanted winter."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't know if you were listening," I admitted.

He smiled weakly. "It was nice. Thank you for that."

I fixed my gaze upon his. "I'm ready to know," I said. "Everything that has happened since I've met you—it's amounting to something; I can feel it. If you know why it is I've wound up here with you, then tell me now, because I think we are in for quite a story of our own."

Adrian averted his gaze for a moment. "I know we must do this," he said slowly. "But the beginning may be difficult for you."

I took a deep sip of the wine.

"There's a book in the library that tells a story of a boy and a girl who were both cursed by an evil enchantress," said Adrian. "I read it a lot when I was a kid. The boy and the girl were destined to be cursed—but they were also destined to find each other and break each other's curses. If they could do that, then they would be free."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I don't know what happens," said Adrian. "The end of the story was ripped out of the book. Anyway, it's us. We're the characters in the story."

"I'm not cursed," I said. "I would know if I were cursed."

Adrian looked at me with sorrow in his eyes. "Have you ever met a fairy before?"

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. "Yes…"

"And did she do you a favor?"

My blood was running cold, but my palms felt sticky and hot. Where was he going with this?

"Her—her name was Pandora. She helped me escape from my home where I was a prisoner, about to be sold off to the necromancer. She helped me. She didn't curse me."

"Whatever she did to you, I will undo," said Adrian. "You have my word."

I sat down upon the steps and put my head in my hands.

After a moment Adrian sat down beside me. "The Enchantress is a deceiver. It's not your fault—there was no way you could've known. But that's why you are here; that is why we are supposed to be in each other's lives. We have another task upon our hands."

A tear escaped my eye and rolled off my cheek and into the snow. Suddenly I felt Adrian take my hand into his.

"It's going to be okay," he said gently. "Since I've met you, I've never felt so brave. If there is anything I believe in—it's you. Do you think you could believe in me too?"

I looked up. "Of course. I believed in you before I even knew you were real."

"Excellent," said Adrian, taking a sip of my wine. "Then it is you who will defeat the beast."