Step 5c: ...and do not, under any circumstance, kiss your target

By his second week of training, Eirifold was no longer gasping like a fish when he tried to do a pushup. By week three, he was actually starting to show some muscle, helped along by one of Ivelle's Buffening Up potions (basically a glorified protein shake with a sprinkle of magic and some electrolytes).

Appearance-wise, he was still far from a romance-novel hero.

But it was a start.

Far more important than Eirifold's physical gains was the fact that, in two weeks, he'd somehow managed to become completely sober. Ivelle might have helped a little. She'd snuck into his bedroom one morning while he was asleep and thrown away the wine and whiskey stashed around his chambers. She'd expected some repercussions, or at least an annoyed protest, but to her surprise, Eirifold had said nothing about his alcohol going missing. Perhaps he was secretly glad she had confiscated it. Or maybe he just didn't care. Ivelle supposed that, as a prince, he could simply summon servants to bring him new bottles of wine whenever he wanted.

But he hadn't.

He still gave her infinite amounts of grief during their practice sessions though. Take, for instance, the most recent practice session. During which he'd had the gall to suggest she didn't look her best. (Or, as he put it, "The bags under your eyes are bigger than the bags the king uses to hold his gold. And it's a lot of gold.")

"I'm fucking tired," Ivelle had snapped, yawning. "You try getting four hours of sleep a night for two straight weeks and see how it makes you look!"

"Why," Eirifold had said after a brief pause, "have you only been getting four hours of sleep?"

"Not all of us have the luxury of sleeping until noon every morning, dimwit!"

He'd gone quiet after that, and Ivelle had thought the topic was closed, until, while he was on his twentieth pushup, he paused and said suddenly, "I think–and this is not just me trying to get out of training–you should take a break tomorrow night and sleep."

"Out of the question."

"What if we shift our training to the evenings?"

"I thought you didn't want King Gorlin to see you getting in shape."

He snapped his fingers. "I've got a plan. I know someone who owns a courtyard. They live on the other side of the city. We can sneak out of the palace and train there."

Ivelle knew she should probably protest. What if someone spotted her training Eirifold and told Lillian? But she was too tired to care. "Fine," she yawned. "If you can guarantee we won't be seen, we can switch our training to the evenings."

~*~

Given how heavily guarded the prince was, Ivelle had thought it would be hard for him to sneak into the city without being noticed.

She had reckoned without the secret passage hidden behind one of Eirifold's bookshelves.

"And you gave that whole song and dance about needing me to go to the city to buy your nasal spray!" Ivelle fumed. "I can't believe you had access to the city all this time!"

"I can only sneak out so many times before my mother notices my disappearance and sends guards searching for me. She's frightfully perceptive." Eirifold pushed aside the end table abutting his elaborate four-poster and slid aside a piece of wall to reveal a darkened passage about one person wide. "Anyway, this isn't exactly my favorite route to take. There's a human skeleton just inside."

"What."

Ivelle stuck her head inside the passage. Almost immediately, she leaped back in horror. There was, indeed, a skeleton inside the secret passage. A rather large skeleton, in fact. A crown was askew on its head, and its white teeth were bared in a grimace.

"It definitely lends a certain macabre air to the place. I remember being quite traumatized when my friend and I discovered it as a child."

"And you just... left it here?" Ivelle studied the skeleton's bejeweled hands with fascination. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

"The moment my parents find out about the secret passage, they'll lock it up faster than you can say 'unnecessary'. I confess, I almost asked to switch rooms a few times... the thought of those dead bones only inches away from my bed was hair-raising, to say the least. But over time I realized... The skeleton had always been there, whether I knew about it or not, and it wasn't going to hurt me. The dead can't really hurt you, except by their absence. I now think of the skeleton rather fondly. I've even come up with a name for her: Skullica. I think it was a woman. She's got a lot of fancy jewelry, and the corset is a bit of a giveaway."

"It's okay for guys to like jewelry and corsets too." Ivelle eyed the skeleton doubtfully. "Who d'you think it was?"

"No idea. Probably a prior queen of Estrella, given the crown. There's also a knife sticking out of her ribs."

Ivelle looked closer. Sure enough, a large, lethal-looking knife was lodged squarely between the skeleton's ninth and tenth ribs, probably close to where her diaphragm had once been.

"That certainly explains how she died," said Ivelle. "But doesn't explain who she was. Were there any Estrellan queens who disappeared under mysterious circumstances?"

"I don't think so," said Eirifold. "I cracked open a few history textbooks once–shocking, I know–and they were wildly unhelpful. Since Estrellan queens can't rule by law, most people don't bother offing them. Kings and princes are juicier targets."

Ivelle felt yet another pang of guilt. If she didn't find some way to stop Lillian from poisoning Eirifold, he would no doubt end up just like Skullica. (Minus the corset, of course. And the jewelry. And the knife in the ribs).

Once they had bypassed the skeleton, the secret passage became a lot less exciting. It consisted mostly of twists, turns, and the occasional cobweb. Every so often, a passage branched off from the main one. According to Eirifold, those branches led to other entrances, which he'd explored when he was younger. There was apparently an entrance behind the statue where Ivelle and Ash had once hidden from the king and queen, and another entrance near the guest wing, which Eirifold hypothesized might have been built so that a former king of Estrella could sneak off to visit a lover.

After what felt like years of going downhill, the passage started to rise again. Eventually, Ivelle was able to make out a few trickles of sunlight in the distance, which grew steadily brighter as they walked.

They arrived at a door at the top of a staircase. Eirifold, who was in the lead, unlocked it and beckoned her through. Ivelle blinked in the bright sunlight and glanced behind her. The door through which they had just emerged belonged to a line of row homes framing a small alley. The particular row home they had just stepped out of appeared to be boarded up, its windows shuttered.

Behind the row homes loomed the walls of the castle, casting half the street in shadow. Ivelle didn't have to be a genius to guess that a horde of hungry tigers lay on the other side.

Eirifold carefully locked the door again – "Wouldn't do for someone to sneak into my room whenever they wanted" – and beckoned.

Beyond the alley lay a larger street lined with stalls. They slid into the rest of the crowd. Eirifold had, thankfully, ditched his lurid sunglasses and gaudy suit in favor of a fake beard and servant's tunic, and he looked very much at home among the rest of the townspeople.

"Where to?" Ivelle asked. She had no idea where this secret training court of Eirifold's might be.

"Across the city. Follow m-– shit!"

Eirifold flattened himself against a wall.

A second later, a woman strode by.

It took Ivelle a moment to recognize Princess Mariel. The lady wasn't wearing anything remotely similar to her usual princess garb. In fact, her clothes were even drabber and more nondescript than Eirifold's. And for once, her German shepherd wasn't tagging along behind her.

The princess cast a furtive glance over her shoulder – Eirifold pressed himself even more closely against the wall – and then continued on down the street. Ivelle couldn't help but notice Mariel's fingers curling around the sword that hung at her side

"Odd," said Eirifold. "I wonder what she's doing, sneaking around the city."

"Let's find out."

Ivelle grabbed Eirifold's arm and dragged him forward. They peered around a merchant's tent, struggling to keep their eyes on the princess, who was hurrying through the crowd with purposeful strides, periodically glancing behind her as though she didn't want to be followed.

"What's she going down that alley for?" said Eirifold. "It looks incredibly disreputable."

Privately, Ivelle didn't think it looked much worse than the street that housed her shop, but everything was relative, and no doubt Eirifold had led a rather sheltered life. "Maybe she's meeting a secret lover." Ivelle skirted the edge of a merchant's stall, almost knocking a couple apples over in the process. "Sorry," she said to a young musician who was strumming sad tunes in a corner of the street.

At the end of the alleyway, a pale woman in gossamer green leaned against a grimy door. Everything about her was sharp, from her eyes, which were narrowed in disdain, to her lips, which were pinched in a sneer.

"That's a wood fae," Ivelle said with surprise.

Wood fae were rare in these parts – they tended to be incredibly private, sticking to the forest and rarely engaging with humans. Ivelle had only encountered two in her lifetime. The first was the wood fae who supplied Ivelle's mother with various illicit substances for her potions. The second had once tried to trick her mum into trading a spell of forgetfulness in exchange for Ivelle's soul. (Needless to say, Ivelle had been very relieved when her mother refused).

"Didn't you tell me mandragar was distilled from wood fae tears?" Eirifold hissed in her ear.

"Shh!" Ivelle jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "I wanna hear what they're saying."

They edged closer, skirting a pile of detritus (Eirifold wrinkled his nose) to crouch in the shelter of an awning.

"... already told you, I am bound by the rules of our people." There was a tightness to the wood fae's voice, a cruel undertone that made the hairs stand up on the back of Ivelle's spine. The fae shook her head. "I cannot tell you what spells were cast or bargains made, nor can I tell you what was forgotten. You would do wise to take what you came here to buy and leave now."

"But you can confirm that spells were cast?"

The wood fae curled her lips, revealing teeth sharp as scissors. She said something in a voice so low, Ivelle couldn't make out the words.

"Fine," said Mariel. "I'll find some other way to get the information."

She dug into her satchel and held out three coins. In exchange, the wood fae placed a small paper package into her hand.

A package that looked oddly potion-shaped.

Mariel turned and began walking. Too late, Ivelle realized she and Prince Eirifold were directly in the princess' path.

Eirifold, apparently coming to the same conclusion, grabbed her hand and yanked her back toward the open street.

Behind them, Mariel let out a noise of surprise. Her footsteps picked up speed. They had clearly been spotted, although whether Mariel had recognized Prince Eirifold was anyone's guess.

They darted into the street, nearly tripping over the musician strumming tunes on his lute. "Sorry!" Ivelle gasped. They sprinted past a few startled vendors, ducking and weaving through the befuddled crowd.

Behind them, Miriam shouted, "Stop them! Watchmen! Those thieves stole my purse!"

Fucking hell! Ivelle's fingers tightened around Eirifold's wrist as she yanked him down another side street. Behind them, they heard a clattering of feet that sounded suspiciously like law enforcement.

Fortunately for Ivelle and Eirifold, they were still in the lead. Unfortunately for the two of them, that lead was closing remarkably fast. This might have had something to do with the fact that they'd eaten dinner just before leaving the palace, and large meals are not conducive to strenuous exercise. Ivelle felt Eirifold's hand slip from her grasp. She looked back to find him clutching his side.

"Cramp," he gasped.

"Oh, for the love of..."

Ivelle, who was also feeling vaguely queasy, grabbed Eirifold's wrist again and made for a narrow alleyway, dragging Eirifold behind her. Too late, she realized their hiding spot was not a real alleyway, but more of a nook in between two houses with barely enough space for the two of them.

"This isn't going to work," Eirifold panted. "They'll see us. We're done for."

"Be quiet!"

Ivelle looked around for another avenue of escape, to no avail. She glanced up at Eirifold and was dismayed to see that his fake beard and hat had fallen off at some point during their mad dash to safety. She reached forward, trying to at least pull up his hood so he would be a bit better concealed, and he caught her hand in his.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to–"

Ivelle broke off, suddenly realizing that the crevice where they were hiding was far too small for two people. Either that, or Eirifold had deliberately moved closer.

He was too close now.

Much too close.

"Trying to what?" he asked huskily. "Hide my face from the nefarious watchmen?"

Heat pooled in her stomach. She was suddenly, abruptly aware of how chiseled his body was starting to look as a result of all of their exercising. It helped that the servant's shirt he was wearing as his disguise was rather thin. "Maybe we can hide your face another way," she murmured, before she could stop herself.

"What did you have in mind?"

The clatter of the watchmen was drawing closer. They were almost upon the two of them now.

Throwing caution to the wind, Ivelle leaned forward--

--and kissed Eirifold on the lips.

~*~

Word count (not that it really matters): 26,086