Lunch consisted of a sandwich Rosamund procured from the kitchens on our way God-Knows-Where, but my hunger made it taste like a gourmet meal. Within five minutes, the sandwich was gone, and my stomach was no longer growling like a cantankerous grizzly.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my eyes glued to the hall window. The view was another breathtaking scene of the emerald forestry that gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Rosamund turned the corner, ignoring my question.

I lengthened my stride to avoid being left behind. "Have you picked out any baby names?"

"Roanoke is not like the place you called home, Young Dare,” she said, glancing down at me. "Names are not things we chose for others before they enter this world."

I had no clue what she was trying to say. Then again, for the past few days, I had had no idea what anyone was saying or doing. I needed to go home to my family and my friends and my normal life.

"We are heading to the castle's main entrance," she added after another moment of silence.

Castle. I mulled that word over in my head, allowing images and words to intermingle. Castle. Of course, it's a freakin' castle. They can't live in a nice mansion or a stately manor. It has to be a freakin' contrived, archetypal castle.

We descended a gilded staircase into the grand entrance that had colossal double doors standing at least two stories high and appeared to be...

"Oh Atlanta, Georgia! Is that African blackwood?" I exclaimed, unable to stop myself from geeking out. The huge entrance doors gleamed under the afternoon light, drawing focus to the gorgeously rare dark-almost-black wood. I’d only seen it once before when a man came in to Auntie’s antique shop with a beautiful wooden carving that made Auntie gleeful. The thought of Auntie made my smile falter. I pushed my pain away.

"How, by the knowledge of God K, is anyone supposed to know that?" He asked, leaning against the doors, examining his fingers.

As we drew closer, I realized that each time he snapped his gloved fingers the light around them seemed to warble and change as if the rays of sunlight pouring down from the windows above were twisting to his will.

"Cool parlor trick."

He looked up from his hand, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes as he did, and, I swear, for just a second, he looked really confused.

"Cool parlor trick," I repeated.

He recovered, shaking his head slightly. "That it is," he mused. He glanced up at Rosamund and flashed her a wolffish grin. "How are you doing, virago?"

Rosamund responded with silent glare back at the boy. I couldn't decide whether I agreed with her character assessment of him or not. He was arrogant, but do far it had been more entertaining than irritating.

He shrugged and pushed up to full height. "Alright then, are you ready to begin your tour?"

A tour? This could be my chance. Perhaps somewhere along the tour I could find a way out of this weird place. "Definitely."

A smirk overtook his lips. "Behind me, you will see the main doors. They serve as an ostensible way for people to enter and exit the building."

"So clever," I muttered for his benefit, although I was taking note of the entrance doors’ locking mechanism. It was at least six feet off the ground with an massive set of gears keeping them secure. There was no way I would be able to sneak out those doors if I couldn't even open them.

Ignorant of my musings, the boy lifted his chin, returning my sarcastic comment in one arrogant stride. "I am clever," he replied with a smirk. "Thank you for noticing."

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something more about his 'cleverness', and he continued the tour.

***

"I have no idea what those things do, but there are a lot of them," he remarked, gesturing to a paper weight that sat atop a mahogany executive desk.

This room was clearly someone's private office, but the boy seemed very uninterested in privacy or etiquette.

"It holds down paper."

We'd been exploring the confusing network of corridors and staircases that seemed to criss-cross and snake through the castle, but he was only showing me the most mundane—and weird—rooms. I was looking for an way out, of course, but I was also undeniably curious. Surely a magical castle had more exciting things to offer than drab offices and sitting rooms?

"Daft Roanoke and its daft traditions," he muttered. "Paper is such an outdated material." He plucked a conical paperweight off the desk and placed it on the desk chair.

"Why did you do that?" I gestured to the paperweight he had moved to the seat of the desk chair.

He plucked the name plack off the desk and tossed it in the adjacent wastebasket. "This man—Jonathan Payne—is irksome. I intend to irk him as recompense."

I looked at Rosamund, expecting her to have something to say on the matter, but she remained unsurprised by his actions, offering nothing more than a disapproving eye. "I feel like that's not very nice."

He offered a wry smirk. "Who ever glorified being 'nice'? I find niceties rarely offer much entertainment."

How cliche, I thought to myself, a teenage boy who believes being stupid is entertaining.

But, even as I derided his actions, an opportunity presented itself. He was arrogant and foolish, and I could use that. "This is what you call entertainment? How pathetic."

"Oh?" His eyes brightened with mischievous light. "Perhaps you have something more entertaining in mind?"

"Perhaps I do," I replied, offering an attempt at a cocky grin, "but castle walls can be so constricting..."

"Your mother didn't warn me that her daughter was an insurgent," he mused.

I am not and probably never will be, but I pretended to be as debonair as James Bond. "Is she the reason you are giving me this boring tour?"

"I owed her a favor, yes. Although I expected something... else, truth be told,” he said carefully as he smirked.

I arched both eyebrows, feeling my ears grow warm. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought this boy was flirting with me. Thank the golden sky above that I know better. "After her whole lecture on obedience, she believes you are the best influence?"

"Assumedly so," he quirked his lips, gesturing for me to follow him down the hall. I took to walking in step with him while Rosamund trailed. "To the Dare's credit, you do seem somewhat directionless."

I felt my hands beginning to curl into fists. I have a direction, and that direction is back home.

He seemed to take notice of my dilemma with an uncharacteristic frown, and I quickly forced my expression to relax. "What about your direction? What is it like to be a part of the High Court?"

He scoffed, forgetting about my moment of frustration in his own. "Golden sky above, I am not a member of the High Court of Roanoke. Do I look like I descended from a white colonist?" He gestured to his olive skin, dark amber eyes, and glossy black hair.

"Well, I don't exactly fit the bill either," I defended to hide my awkwardness. As far as my knowledge of history serves, there were no blacks in the English colonies until 1616, three decades after the Roanoke was settled and abandoned.

"And that is because your grandfather is not from Roanoke. He's a descendant of one of the first tribes. I, on the other hand," he said, placing a hand grandly on his chest "am Mayan."

As in the Ancient Mayan civilization?

I shouldn't have been terribly surprised. Not after everything that had already happened. "So," I cleared my throat somewhat awkwardly. "Why did you come all the way here from—"

"Edwards," he supplied, smirking at my flushed cheeks. For some reason he found great enjoyment in my discomfort. "It's a city about six hours from here. My mother is the Ambassador for Lakamha, so we spend part of our year there."

With another person, I would've commented on his interesting childhood, but with this boy, I thought it best to question his competency. "So, I am getting a tour from someone who doesn't even live here?"

He rewarded my question with a quick grin. "I may not live here, but I know more of this castle than most guards."

"Oh?" I glanced backwards. "Is this true, Rosamund?"

She peered over at the boy, and I almost thought she wouldn't respond. Finally, she said, "Ah Ciliz is more informed about this castle's layout than he should be."

"Very well," I caught his eye and offered my best attempt at a taunting grin, "if you know so much of the castle then why don't you show me something a bit more entertaining?"

He held up a hand, and Rosamund stopped, gritting her teeth even as she obeyed his order. We continued ahead several paces before he stopped  and turned to me.

"You really wish to stir up trouble, don't you?" He asked, dropping his voice to a decibel Rosamund couldn't overhear.

"Are you opposed to trouble?" I crossed my arms, smiling tauntingly.

He chuckled. "No, not particularly." He shook his head, flicking his dark hair aside. "I know you have been looking for an escape route all day, and I am a little insulted that you were trying to use me, but..." he glanced back at Rosamund again. "How much do you trust me?"

"Not in the slightest."

He grinned again. "Good. I will give you to the count of thirty head-start to find the nearest exit, and if you get there before Rosamund can find you, I'll even help you get back to the Lower Realm."

Surprise was probably an understatement for my reaction. I had hoped to induce a mistake in his judgement, but this boy was far more rash than I gave him credit for. "Why?"

"Because I think the High Court's reaction will give me a good laugh." His dark amber eyes gleamed at the prospect of mischief. "In fact, I will even give you directions to the nearest exit if you can do one thing."

My stomach was doing flip flops. I was going to escape. Actually escape. My palms grew cold. "What?"

"Say my name," he said, his already voice tinged with laughter. "If you can pronounce my name, I will give you the directions. I noticed you floundering with it earlier."

I shot him a glare, and he flashed another smirk, making it all too clear that he wanted me to fail miserably. However, I bit back my crude remarks. I wanted that clue, even if my pronunciation skills are horrendous.

I tried to replay the name in my head. What was it exactly? Aah Cillin' Eck? Or was the middle part Cillis? Come on. It was only a few hours ago.

"Aaah... Kill-us Eck—" I cringed, hearing the awkward sounds tumble from my mouth. "Can I just call you 'Ace'?"

I don't know why I asked. It wasn't his name, but I had butchered that, so I guess I was just trying for some consolation in his initials.

"Ace?" His eyes searched mine for half a second more than necessary. "You are very forward, Gwyn. Yes, Ace will do nicely. Head down the right corridor, take a left, the second right, two lefts, cross the glass hall, head down three flights, and the door is on your right."

I frantically repeated the instructions in my head with little hope that I would remember them. "When does my time start?"

He glanced back at Rosamund. "Now!"