The morning began the same way all the others had this week: breakfast brought in by someone who didn’t make eye contact, a half-hearted “stay put” from whichever one of the men had the duty of locking me in, and the quiet click of the bolt sliding home.

  I sat at the little table by the window, stabbing at my eggs. The sun was slanting in at an angle that promised the day outside was warm, bright, and absolutely not meant for me.

  It was starting to get to me.

  I’d been patient, by my own definition of the word, which meant not trying to jump out a window or start a fire. But patience was a finite resource, and mine was starting to scrape bottom.

  Bagel hopped up onto the bed and gave me a slow blink, the feline equivalent of You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, pushing the plate away. “I’ve been good. Mostly. But if I don’t stretch my legs soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  I wandered to the door and pressed my ear against it. Nothing. No voices, no footsteps. Just the faint hum of the castle, a sound I was starting to recognize.

  The thought of staying in here for another day made my skin itch. But the problem was that damn lock. They weren’t careless about it. They never forgot. I’d tested it at least twice a day, just in case.

  Still…

  I glanced at the mirror above the dresser and pulled out the two bobby pins holding my hair back. They felt oddly heavy in my hand, tiny, but full of possibilities. My dad’s voice echoed in my memory: Locks are just puzzles, kiddo. Every puzzle’s got a solution.

  If I stayed, I’d be bored. If I went, I’d probably get caught. The question was which was worse.

  That seemed obvious.

  The first pin slipped when I put it in the lock. I gritted my teeth and tried again, feeling for the faintest clicks inside the lock. One, two, click.

  The sound was beautiful.

  I eased the door open, Bagel staying behind as if she’d decided I was an idiot.

  The hallway was empty, quiet except for the occasional creak of old wood. Trying a different route compared to last time, I took a left, keeping to the wall, memorizing each turn I made. It wasn’t long before I reached an unfamiliar stretch, a wing with tall, narrow windows and velvet runners along the floor.

  That’s when I nearly walked straight into someone.

  A teenaged boy in a crisp housekeeper's uniform stopped short, eyes widening before he dropped into a quick bow. “Oh! I’m so sorry, miss. I didn’t see you there.”

  I blinked. “Uh… no problem.”

  He straightened, tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you… visiting?”

  “Something like that,” I lied smoothly. “Family.”

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  His brows knit for half a second, but she smiled anyway. “Well, welcome. I’m Leo.”

  I hesitated. “Kara,” I said finally, pulling the name out of nowhere. No way was I giving him my real one.

  Leo’s smile brightened. “If you need anything, you can ask me. It’s nice to see a friendly face around here, honestly.”

  There was something in his tone, something that made me wonder just how rare that was. But before I could ask, heavy footsteps sounded at the far end of the hall.

  Leo glanced over his shoulder, then back at me with a small, conspiratorial look. “I should go. But I meant it, if you ever want to talk.” He dipped into another quick bow before slipping away down a side corridor.

  I turned toward the footsteps, and there he was.

  Grabber.

  His gaze swept me from head to toe, lingering for just a second on my hair, my hands, the pins I still hadn’t shoved back in. “How did you get out of your room?”

  I pasted on my most innocent face. “The door wasn’t locked.”

  One brow arched slowly. “It was.”

  I shrugged. “Guess it’s broken, then.”

  He stepped closer, not buying a single word, but not calling me out either. Instead, his mouth quirked, not a smile exactly, but something that seemed to say interesting.

  Without another word, he turned and motioned for me to come with him. I did, partly because I didn’t want to see what happened if I refused, partly because his curiosity was worse than his temper.

  He didn’t say much at first, just walked beside me with that long, steady stride of his that forced me to keep up or be herded like a stray sheep. His hand rested lightly but firmly at the small of my back, enough to guide, not enough to hurt, but the message was clear: this way, and no other.

  I could feel him watching me without really looking at me. Not the casual glances people throw at strangers. No, this was calculated, measuring, like he was weighing a scale in his head. Great. Nothing like being silently evaluated by the human embodiment of a locked vault.

  “You get lost?” he asked eventually, voice mild.

  He was fishing. Definitely fishing. I pasted on my most innocent smile. “Maybe I was looking for the bathroom.”

  His mouth twitched in something that could have been a smile, if you were very generous with your definitions. “You have a bathroom attached to your room, and the other bathroom’s in the other direction.”

  “Guess I made a wrong turn.” Keep it light, keep it vague. Nobody ever suspects the woman who acts like she’s three IQ points away from eating paste.

  He hummed like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Funny thing about wrong turns, they don’t usually involve picking a lock.”

  My stomach flipped, but I kept my face blank. “Not sure what you’re implying.” Deny, deny, deny. This is Lockpicking 101: never admit you even know what a lock is.

  “I’m not implying anything.” His gaze slid over me, sharp and assessing. “Just wondering how you walked through a door that’s supposed to open from only one side.”

  Yep. He knew. Or at least suspected enough to make me sweat. I tried to calculate how much trouble I was in. From the way his eyes kept flicking to me, like I was a puzzle with one piece missing, I figured the answer was plenty.

  We turned a corner, my room door coming into view like the gallows at the end of a long walk. He slowed, then stopped in front of it. His eyes flicked to mine, unreadable. “You’re not stupid,” he said finally. “That’s the problem.”

  I crossed my arms, masking the spark of satisfaction his words gave me. “And here I thought intelligence was a virtue.”

  “It is.” He stepped closer, just enough that I had to tilt my head to keep his gaze. “In the right hands. In the wrong ones, it’s dangerous. And I haven’t decided yet which yours are.”

  So I’m dangerous. Good. Let him think that. Dangerous is harder to cage than harmless.

  Before I could think of a snappy comeback, he opened the door and gestured me inside. I stepped through, Bagel immediately hopping down from the bed to wind around my ankles like she’d been waiting to debrief me on enemy movements.

  As the door closed behind me, I heard him murmur, just loud enough to reach my ears, “You’re going to make this interesting, aren’t you?”

  It was half a warning, half… something else.

  And damn it, I was already planning my next “wrong turn.”

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