The Child Prince: Artifactor, #1

Careful, now…she must be very careful. Just one drop of the captured sunlight on the rock salt would set off quite the explosion. Sevana held her breath as she leaned carefully over her worktable, holding her arm steady with her other hand, muscles tense. Just a few more inches and she’d be able to insert the captured sunlight liquid into the mixture. But just a drop, just one—

Knock knock. Knockknockknock.

The sudden noise in the absolute stillness of her workroom sounded like a war drum going off. She started, the vial in her hand twitching at just the wrong moment, and a drop landed…exactly where it should not have. Sevana had just enough time to dive for the floor before the liquid dissolved into the salt and set off a spectacular explosion that set fire to everything within reach.

I can’t lie on the floor, she realized in panic, and rolled back to her feet. If that fire reached certain areas of the room—areas that held volatile and flammable things—then the whole room would go up like a volcanic eruption.

Sevana scrambled toward the first tool she could reach. It wasn’t a water or fire-reducing wand as she wanted, but a stasis crystal. Close enough to do the job. She snatched it off the table and quickly commanded, Xoldnefole!

Everything in the room, including the flames that had been licking their way across her worktable, froze. Breathing hard, she looked around to see what damage had been done. The bookshelves lining either end of the room hadn’t been touched, so her reference books were safe. (This was a fortunate thing for whoever was knocking on her door. It meant they could live to see tomorrow.)

But the rest of the room…aish. Her long wooden worktable was scorched along one end. She’d likely have to replace the whole thing. Everything on top of it had been melted. Not one flask, wand, or ingredient was still usable. The stone grinders were questionable, covered in soot as they were. Even the workbench along the back wall was a little scorched along the edges.

She couldn’t claim to be in better shape, either. Despite having dove to the floor, some of the flames had still reached her. She could taste soot in her mouth, so her face likely had smears of it. The back of her hands certainly did. When she looked down at herself, she noted in disapproval that her white shirt looked gray, and the buckskin pants she wore were streaked with black. For that matter…she sniffed the air around her. Could that be…? Yes, it was. The smell of burnt hair. Even her hair had been burned?!

Knockknockknockknockknockthud.

I take it back. Whoever that is has to die. Sevana released the crystal, letting it hover in mid-air, and spun for the door. Big must have sensed her mood as he rearranged the tunnels for her with a low, grating noise so she had direct access to the main door. Whoever had come knocking—aside from having a short life expectancy—must have been a friend to get this far without Big stopping them.

Friend or foe, it didn’t matter. They still needed to be killed.

She reached the door, grabbed the wooden latch, and yanked it open. Her visitor had his hand raised as if poised to knock again. At the murderous look on her face, he cautiously backed up a pace, eyes taking her in from head to toe.

Ah…did I catch you at a bad time, Sev?

Kip, she snarled, not even surprised. Only he would have this kind of atrocious timing. You barmy git! Whatever brought you to my door just became a life-or-death situation.

Her childhood friend held up both hands in a pleading gesture. Wait, Sev, this is actually important. Errr…what happened to you?

You happened, she snapped, planting her feet. I was in the middle of a very delicate experiment—

Really? Then why did Big let me through?

She turned her eyes to the nearest section of rock. Big, as a mountain, couldn’t flinch or look guilty, but the condensation on the rocks looked like beads of nervous sweat to her. A point I will take up with him later. At great length.

From the depths of the tunnels behind her, a soft breeze ran through, ruffling her scorched hair. With the feel of the wind came a soft word, said on a sigh. Sorry.

Ignoring her giant sentinel, she turned her gaze back to Kip. Her temper rose a notch seeing that particular smile on his face. Ever since they were toddlers, he had always been a beautiful child, and at the age of twenty, he had become a very handsome man with the thick, wavy black hair that women envied, crystal blue eyes, and a tall, lean build. He had used his charm and that particular smile to get out of every troublesome moment in his life. The only person it failed to ever work on was her. Which he very well knew, so why he decided to try it, she had no idea.

He turned his smile up another notch. Really, Sev, it’s serious. But it’s also something you’ve asked me to find for you.

Over the years, Kip had developed the troublesome habit of bringing her work to do. No matter how many times she told him that she didn’t want to be bothered, or that she had no interest in helping people, he still showed up with work. If not for the fact that childhood friends were rather difficult to replace, she would have strangled him and buried his body in the woods years ago.

Well, that and the fact that his mother would no doubt make her bring him back from the dead. Again.

But this didn’t seem to be the usual work. He typically started out with how this or that person truly needed help, no one else could do it, yadda yadda. She couldn’t remember asking him for anything specific, but this serious expression he wore indicated that she should at least hear him out. So she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

You’ve got fifteen seconds.

You know how the Child Prince was hit by an age-reducing spell about ten years ago?

She nodded impatiently. And they’ve never been able to reverse the spell, so he’s eternally a child. What about it?

Only yesterday you complained to me that you’re bored and that your job has become repetitive. He leaned in slightly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. Think about it, Sev. Our prince has had hundreds of magicians of every sort come and examine him. Five years ago, they gave up all hope and proclaimed his curse as ‘unbreakable.’ Wouldn’t that make this the ultimate challenge?

She had to admit, it truly did sound like one. Sevana adored pitting her wits against someone else’s, and curse-breaking was the ultimate form of that, but she had to wonder about the timing of this. If it’s been five years since he’s been locked away as a lost cause, why are you just now bringing this interesting challenge to me?

Kip’s smile froze for a second. Ah, well…

What, you didn’t think I’d notice? she asked acidly.

He scrubbed at the back of his head, blew out a breath, and shrugged in resignation. All right, here’s truth. The council passed a law this morning that…troubles me. On the surface it gives them the right to manage the government in the absence of the royal family, but really, we’re already in that state. The prince is unable to rule, the king is basically always absent from court, as no one’s seen him rule or decree anything since the prince was cursed, and there’s no one else to step forward to rule. Windamere is in the deplorable state it’s in because of the council. If they give themselves tacit permission to rule, where does that leave us?

She froze, mind whirling at high speeds. Truly, the picture he painted scared even her. And the king?

I doubt he’s even aware of what the council has done. Kip sighed, running a hand through his hair. That man’s even more preoccupied with experimentation than you are.

So the council had taken control of the government entirely? All directions for the kingdom would come from that council of greedy fools? Sevana didn’t like the sound of that at all. She tried to ignore politics as much as possible, as it inevitably became too troublesome to deal with, but she couldn’t ignore it completely. As an artifactor, she needed to be licensed on several levels in order to just do business. Because of her high rank, she required a Trade License, Operating License, Artifactor License, and a License for Unorthodox Substances. Without those, she wouldn’t be able to do anything—legally—but they all required a yearly trip to the capital city and the castle just to renew.

If those fools had carte blanche on everything, who knew what new hoops they would create for her to hop through? In fact, they might get it in their heads to make her their personal artifactor or some such nonsense.

There were prices to pay for being the infamous artifactor prodigy.

The news troubled her enough that she could almost forgive Kip for his atrocious timing. Almost. She leveled a glare at him that would make a lesser man quake in his boots. He did gulp nervously though, and his smile faltered for a moment.

If you help me clean up my lab, I’ll let you live, she offered generously.

Placing a hand over his heart, he swept her a grand bow. It will be my pleasure to assist you.

Well, well. The man did have survival skills after all. She turned and waved him through, kicking the door shut behind him.

Kip made his way to the lab without any instruction on her part. Sevana paused to take in the atmosphere of the cave. She had been coming here since she was three, and living here since she’d turned fifteen, so she knew the feel of this place better than the back of her hand. The smell of burned and melted things floated in the air, marring the usual pleasant smell of earth and running water. That she expected, but underneath she detected a sense of caution. Nothing about the sloping cave walls, the smooth pathways, or the condensation caused by the multitude of little springs in the cave indicated that Big might be a little nervous. She just instinctively felt it was so.

So she gave him a friendly pat on the wall as she turned and followed Kip into her workroom. And if she smiled a little when Big sent a small breeze to caress her cheek and ruffle her melted hair, well, Kip couldn’t see it with his back to her.

Kip had one of her never-ending trash bags open and was tossing anything melted or destroyed beyond recognition into it with commendable speed. Without a word, she picked up another bag and joined in. You didn’t come here just to tell me the news, did you?

No, I would have waited for you in town tomorrow if it was just that, he responded with a cautious look at her. But I had a thought. Sev, have you ever looked at the Child Prince? I mean, did you ever try to figure out what curse was responsible for his situation?

She looked at him wearily. Did she ever do work for other people unless he dragged her into it? Surely the man knew this by now. No.

I thought as much. I think you should. Look at him, I mean. If you don’t figure out what’s wrong with him, or at least some way to reverse the spell he’s under, then this whole kingdom is doomed. The council is already issuing some pretty oppressive laws.

Well, he had a point, but…

And it really is the ultimate challenge, he added as if sensing her hesitation. I mean, I looked at the list of magicians that went to see him. There were some very recognizable names on that list. If even they couldn’t do it, then I imagine this curse is hideously complex. You wouldn’t be bored for the next several months at least, I would think.

She didn’t bother to ask how he’d managed to get his hands on such a list. This was Kip, after all. She paused mid-motion, holding a bag open, and thought about it for a moment, running the ramifications through her mind. But they’re not going to let me waltz in there and see him. The council likely prefers him trapped in that eternal child’s body after all.

So? he responded artlessly. Kidnap him.

She froze, hand reaching for something, and favored him with an exasperated look. Tell me you’re not serious.

Perfectly serious. Kip stopped putting things into the bag and braced both hands against the table so he could lean closer to her, eyes intense. Sev, that poor kid should be twenty-one years old now. He should be near my age, but he’s eternally stuck at eight. Worse, if we don’t help him, if we don’t find a way to put him on that throne, then you know what’s going to happen. Without someone to check them, the council magistrates are going to go mad with power.

She rocked back on her heels and thought about it for a moment. It sounded like a lot of trouble. Actually, the idea of breaking into the castle and kidnapping a prince sounded like more hassle than she cared to deal with. And that didn’t even include the fact that she would have to bring him back here, where he would have to live for quite some time until she figured everything out. And who knew how long that would take? The only company she could stand for any length of time was Big and Baby.

And neither of them were human.

Sevana blew out an irritated breath. Troublesome, troublesome. The whole situation reeked of trouble that she’d just as soon avoid. But if she did, a whole new set of trouble would land on her door, trouble that she couldn’t avoid. She only wavered toward the ‘helping’ side because of the interesting challenge tempting her.

If you could break my spell, you can break his, Kip implored. Please, Sev.

She wasn’t in the slightest moved by this plea, but an interesting thought popped into her mind. The prince, if turned king, would have the power to issue royal commands. When that boy gets on the throne, I want him to issue me an eternal Artifactor’s License so I don’t have to renew the thing every year. That is my fee for helping him.

Kip rolled those big blue eyes of his and said patiently, I’m sure he’ll grant you one for your help. Now will you go already?

Since he had caused this mess, she felt it only right that he got to clean it up. Alone. This place needs to be spotless by the time I’m back. Just leave everything in stasis, I’ll deal with that later. And do not show up here tomorrow.

Err… He looked nervous for some reason. You sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he’s royalty. He’s not going to be used to that sharp tongue of yours.

He’d best adjust quickly then. Unconcerned, she dropped the bag and spun on one heel before exiting the room, heading for the storeroom next door. If she was going to break into a castle and kidnap a prince, she’d need a few things.

Shouldn’t you do something about your hair first? Kip called after her.

Rats. She probably should, at that.

Sevana took an hour to grow out her hair and cut it, bathe, and change clothes before she started to prepare. At first she’d only intended to just regrow the hair and cut it again, getting rid of the melted areas, but one look in the mirror had scared even her for a moment. A bath and a change of clothes had definitely been in order.

Satisfied, she went to her room of records and dug through the information in her files until she found what she needed. Her files had a very specific way of organization (one that made no sense to anyone else) and at first glance, it did look rather jumbled. The room had originally started with bookshelves all along the cave walls, but over the years she’d added bookshelves to stand in the middle of the room, and a narrow desk squeezed in near the door. Everything had been sorted by the artifact made (as that’s where she started looking), then by area, and then by client.

She headed straight for the clock files.

Somewhere around age twelve, Sevana had hit upon the idea of creating a personal portal network in the kingdom. She disliked most means of travel simply because they were slow, and frankly, with the weird jobs that Kip kept volunteering her for, she’d be constantly traveling and never get anything done. So, portals. It had taken her some time to think of a way to manage it, however. Most people didn’t like the idea of anyone having access to their home or business without a by-your-leave. So Sevana had to develop something that they wanted and would never suspect.

Grandfather clocks.

She had created a grandfather clock that never needed to be wound or maintained. They were expensive, of course, so only the nobility or a businessman could afford them. She didn’t mind this—she only needed a few in every city, after all—but for every one that she sold, she had its twin here in a storeroom. When she activated her clock, it became an active portal to the other clock. All she had to do was open the glass door and step inside.

Now, if memory served, she had about five or six clocks inside the palace. She’d mapped out where they came out, but she hadn’t needed to use them in well over a year, and people rearranged things periodically in that place. Sevana still pulled the file and glanced over at the map just to refresh her memory. Yes, as she suspected, no clock existed in the prince’s wing. The best she could do was that foyer, which meant crossing at least three hallways. Three hallways with guards.

Hmm. Too troublesome. Need my boots.

She paused and really thought about it. She rarely carried passengers with her. Usually she stepped through the clock, did whatever she needed to do, and left alone. Would there be anything she needed? She’d never kidnapped a prince before, but she had snuck into a sorcerer’s tower and borrowed his familiar. Surely it would be similar?

In that case… Sevana replaced the file and went across the hall to her other storeroom. She’d need a few defense wands, a stasis crystal just in case things went really south, a seeking spell, and maybe an illusionist trick or two. There, that should do it.

She slung it all into the leather belt she had designed for this purpose. It went snugly around her waist and could hold ten wands, three crystals, and four potion vials without strain. She rarely ever loaded it to capacity, though. Like now, she normally didn’t need more than a few things.

All right, last thing. Where did I put those boots?

Even on her best days, Sevana couldn’t be bothered to organize. It took grumbling noises from Big and several headbutts from Baby to make her sit down and organize. It had been quite some time since she had done anything with this particular room. The shelves and tables were stacked high with wands, crystals, and every possible article of clothing, potions, and a few other knickknacks she had created. The most she could claim was that she never mixed the products. All the wands were in one area, the potions in another, and so forth. She went straight for the leather pile on the table and started digging. Boots, boots, boots…no, not those boots. Aha!

She held them up, looking them over carefully. To anyone’s eyes, these boots were designed with a forester in mind. They laced up over the ankle, made of dark brown leather that would blend in well with a wooded area. They didn’t look glamorous, but they were sturdy. A little bulky for her tastes, but sturdy things lasted longer, and putting the right magical design into boots had proven to be a pain. She didn’t want to do it again just because the boots wore out after a few years.

All right, time to go kidnapping.

Slipping out the door, she made her way farther down the hallway, talking to Big as she went. Big, I’m going out to fetch somebody. He’s going to be about eight, okay? So prepare a room for him. Make it somewhere near the kitchen, but make sure he doesn’t have easy access to my workshop. She didn’t want to accidentally kill the kid the first few days he was here.

Somewhere in the mountain, rocks shifted against each other in a low rumble, Big’s version of a grunt of agreement. Nodding in satisfaction, she went into her clock room.

Big had expanded this room several times over the years. It was one of the few rooms that didn’t have a cluttered feel to it. She couldn’t afford to jumble things together—she’d lose track of which clock went to which area if she did. And it made things difficult to step in and out of the clock if she had to dodge other clocks as well.

Let’s see…according to the map, that clock opened out into the foyer.

She pulled out the master key from the top hidden compartment in the clock and wound it up. (She never left all the clocks running. For one thing, doing so would keep the portals activated at all times, which was a huge waste of energy. For another, if she did, the sound in the room would be deafening.) When it wound up to speed, she set the time to what it would be in the palace—they were an hour ahead) and then opened the glass front. With one hand, she shifted the pendulum aside and stepped all the way through, going sideways a little to fit.

Thank all magic I’m not that tall, she grumbled, not for the first time. She’d wanted to make the clocks bigger, but all grandfather clocks adhered to a certain range of height, and to avoid suspicion she’d had to scale things a certain way. It forced her to do this awkward bend-twist movement just to fit through the clock.

Space warped slightly as she crossed the dimension of one clock and stepped into the other. On the other side of the twin clock, the world was very quiet. Not to mention deserted. It was late afternoon here, so everyone had likely sat down to dinner. Perfect. It meant she had less chances of bumping into someone she didn’t want to. Like nobility. Or guards.

From the inside, she popped the latch on the glass front and stepped through, carefully closing it behind her. Then, just to ensure that she didn’t meet anyone, she walked up the wall to the ceiling. The boots reacted perfectly, as expected of something she had made. It felt like walking on the ground, the boots gripped the ceiling surface so naturally. Aside from dodging a few chandeliers and buttresses, she might as well be walking on the tiled floor.

The only problem she foresaw was that she would likely sneeze up here. The dust gathered on the edges of the trim was thick enough to plant a flowerbed in. Well, not that she could blame the cleaning staff. How would a normal person go about dusting something twenty feet in the air, after all? Still, if she’d known it’d be like this, she’d have brought something to tie over her mouth and nose.

Trying not to breathe the dust in, she started jogging. The prince’s chambers were supposed to be somewhere in the east wing. If she followed this hallway down, took a left, and then went up a flight of stairs, she’d be there. But which room?

I’m going to have to use that seeking spell after all.

As she jogged, she started thinking about what she’d do after she had him in hand. Just shoving him in a room and letting Big babysit him didn’t seem like the right tactic. After all, if he didn’t have the skills to be king, then breaking his curse would be a futile effort on her part. Rats, she’d have to think up some sort of teaching regime to make sure he was up to snuff. She let out a sigh…and almost instantly regretted it, as it nearly set off a sneezing fit.

The next time she broke into the palace, she’d bring a cleaning wand with her. This was ridiculous. How could anyone skulk in this place when they were constantly fighting the urge to sneeze?

All right, so training for the prince, after a thorough diagnostic, of course. Then he’d…wait. What was his name again? Sevana paused with one foot on the ceiling leading up, brow furrowed in concentration. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember his name. The prince had been cursed when she was six or seven, if she remembered right, and ever since then people called him The Child Prince.

Ah, well. She’d learn it shortly.

Shrugging, she continued upward. As she walked, she took out the seeking rod and held it loosely in her right hand. NeFole, she commanded softly. ZiikpovNEFOLE.

The rod instantly jerked up and to the left. Good, he was not at the formal dinner with the others. She hadn’t expected him to be. Ever since he’d been cursed, he’d disappeared completely from the public eye, becoming little better than a hermit. Although considering the council magistrate’s open delight at his state, she had to wonder if the prince hid in his room or if he were imprisoned there.

In a few moments, she entered the right hallway, the rod pointing her unerringly toward the door. There were no guards stationed there. This didn’t surprise her, not with a lock like that. She hadn’t seen a lock that large and impressive since she’d visited a dungeon troll.

Well, fortunately she didn’t have to deal with the lock. (She hadn’t brought any unlocking charms to begin with, either, which she’d have to remember next time.)

But that did answer her question. With a lock like that, the prince was definitely a prisoner.

She put the searching rod back in its holster and walked to the end of the hallway, where a trio of large glass windows dominated the wall. She pushed one open, walked outside and onto the stone blocks of the castle’s exterior, and continued to the next available window. This window, however, had a small balcony attached to it, which was helpful. Someone had even thrown it open, which made it a little easier on her.

Happy this was going so smoothly, she dropped onto the balcony’s edge and took a peek inside. As expected of a palace room for royalty, it was vast, with cream-colored walls edged in golden trim and very expensive velvet furnishings here and there. The plush carpet alone could feed a small village for a year. Her eyes passed over all of this without worry, looking instead for occupants. No guards or servants in the room, it seemed. Good. Stepping into view, she casually strolled inside. Of course, that’s when the first wrinkle in her plans appeared.

The only person in the room lounged in a chair, a leg dangling over one arm and an oversized book in his lap. Or at least, it looked oversized in comparison to him.

Sevana stared at him for a long moment, not quite believing her eyes. After all, this…boy…didn’t fit with her mental image of the prince. For one thing, she’d never seen a scrawnier child. According to the history of their country, the prince had been cursed at the age of eleven, and the curse had reverted his age to that of an eight-year-old before they’d managed to stop it. He looked eight, too. The only thing that seemed out of place were those intense, apple-green eyes that seemed to penetrate right through her. His messy, sandy-blond hair seemed to go in every direction, like he’d just rolled out of bed after sleeping on wet hair. With pale skin, baby fat, and a short stature, he looked cute, the way puppies were cute.

She hated cute.

After that first initial look of surprise, he dove off the chair and went behind it, using it as a shield. He did not, interestingly enough, reach for any weapon. (She would have in his place.) Who are you? he asked. The voice belonged to a child. The tone did not.

She couldn’t do much with a child that looked this young. Still, she didn’t know what else she could do, either. One way or another, she’d have to follow through with her original plan. Decided, she folded her arms over her chest and locked her eyes with his.

My name is Sevana. I am here to kidnap you.

He blinked, whether at her directness or her announcement, Sevana wasn’t sure. Kidnap me. For ransom? Because I have to tell you, no one here would pay it.

Hooo. So he did know the political situation he was in. A sharp mind resided behind that child’s face. You’re probably right, she agreed bluntly.

They both paused, studying each other intently. Sevana didn’t know what he thought behind that inscrutable mask of his. She didn’t fancy standing there all day in a staring contest either.

Not going for a weapon, Princeling?

Are you worried I will? he riposted steadily.

If I had a complete stranger break into my room, I would certainly reach for one. He hadn’t even tried for that enormous bell pull near the door, which would likely summon a swarm of guards. Or a maid. Someone, at least, who would help him. This just became curiouser and curiouser. Unless… Unless they’ve deliberately left you unarmed?

He stared at her for a moment longer, eyes locking with hers, and let out a slow breath. I think you already guessed what the situation is before you even entered this room.

You’re a prisoner here, she said bluntly. And you are unarmed and without protection of any sort, which is why you haven’t tried calling for help.

His eyes closed in a fatalistic manner, fist clenching until his knuckles shone white. Indeed. It is as you say. I am at your mercy, Miss Intruder. So, what do you intend to do?

I’m not going to ransom you. I’m here to take you away so I can study you.

Study me, he repeated neutrally, eyes searching her face.

That’s right. I want to know what spell or potion was used on you so I can reverse it.

Are you a great sorceress?

It was Sevana’s turn to blink at him in puzzlement. No.

Magess?

No.

Witch? Shaman? Any kind of a magic user at all?

No, no, and no. Sevana smirked at his flabbergasted expression. You were examined by every magic specialist in the five kingdoms at one point or another, weren’t you? They couldn’t find the answer either.

Exactly. The prince glared at her, his mouth not quite forming a pout. So what makes you more qualified?

I’m an artifactor, she responded easily, heading for him. If anyone would know the subtle nuances of a potion or spell, it would be me.

Artifactor, he breathed. For the first time since she entered the room, he looked cautiously optimistic. Wait. Could you perhaps be the prodigy artifactor, Sevana Warran?

She preened a little. The kid knew her, did he? The very one.

The flash of optimistic hope passed, replaced by caution. He seemed to shrink a little behind his chair. I fear I don’t have any power here. If it is some grand reward you seek, I cannot grant it to you.

She snorted at the very idea. What I want is this: When you become king, I want you to grant me an eternal Artifactor’s License.

The prince blinked at her quite stupidly for a second. That’s it? You just want a license?

What do you mean ‘that’s it?’ she demanded in aggravation. Do you realize how much paperwork is involved to get a license? And I have to do it yearly, to boot!

His face contorted as if he were struggling not to laugh out loud.

She shook a finger at him. Don’t you dare laugh.

He held up both hands in a pacifying gesture. I would not dream of it. Very well, Artifactor, if you truly do break this curse on me, then I will grant you your wish.

Good. She reached his chair and looked down at him. Are you ready to be kidnapped yet? As your kidnapper, I am generous enough to let you put on shoes first.

He hesitated for a long moment, staring up at her with calculating eyes. Then a lopsided smile tugged one corner of his mouth up. At this point, I suppose any risk is better than none. I need more than just shoes. His eyes darted around the room. Give me two minutes.

Nothing bulky, she cautioned him calmly as he emerged from behind his shield and started darting from one side of the room to the other. In fact, if it can’t fit in a bag, don’t bother. I can only carry so much.

No, it’s nothing heavy that I need, he assured her in an absent fashion as he started rummaging through different chests lined against the wall. It’s just, if I don’t bring some sort of proof of my identity with me, they won’t believe me later if you actually manage to restore me.

A valid point. Hmmm. So he could think quickly in unexpected situations, eh? Good, good. He’d need that ability to survive. Especially if he would be coming and going through her workshop.

Ah, found it! He grabbed something from the bottom of a chest and slung it around his neck before stashing it inside his shirt. Without another word, he changed directions and put on some sturdy boots, a coat, and a hat with a low brim. On first inspection, the simple black shirt and pants he wore looked ordinary enough if very well-tailored. It should last long enough for her to pick him up some more common clothing.

Ready? she asked impatiently.

He nodded. Lead the way.

The kidnapping went off without a hitch. Sevana brought the little prince through the grandfather clock without anyone even spotting them. After he stepped down onto the cave floor, she turned and shut the clock off again.

When she looked back at him, the prince was staring with wide eyes, nearly turning in on himself so he could see in every direction. Wait, he said in a high-strung voice, so every clock here connects to an outside clock?

Curses. He’d figured it out that fast? She grabbed his chin with her hand and turned him to face her directly. This room does not exist, she told him firmly.

He opened his mouth to object but paused, studying her expression cautiously. Then he gave a jerky nod. As you wish.

Too afraid of losing her help to argue, eh? Good. They’d get along well that way. Grabbing him by the arm, she towed him out the door. Before I forget to ask, what’s your name?

You don’t know my name?! he asked incredulously.

Haven’t heard it in a decade. Everyone calls you the Child Prince. She shot him a look over her shoulder. He looked stunned, as if she had just knocked all the air out of him. Name? she prompted, a little impatiently.

Oh. It’s Bellomi Christoff Vogel braun Dragonmanovich.

Sevana stopped mid-stride and gave him an arch look. Why under the heavens do you need five names?

I’m the forty-ninth Prince of Windamere, he answered wearily, as if this didn’t even need an explanation. My name has history in it. Do you really want me to explain?

No, not really. She’d probably forget the explanation in five minutes anyway. Well, I’m not calling you that. And I’m not calling you Prince or Highness or some such either. While you’re here, you’re simply my apprentice. I don’t want people being suspicious of you and asking questions. Although people were bound to ask questions. Sevana had refused to take apprentices for years, after all. Suddenly taking in a boy no one knew would make the rumors fly.

So what are you going to call me? he asked cautiously. Bellomi?

Too long, she dismissed, starting forward again. Bel will do.

Bel? he protested. That’s what you call a pet!

Pet, apprentice, what’s the difference? With a dismissive shrug, she moved on to the more important topics and ignored his spluttering. A few warnings for you. This mountain is not a mountain. His name is Big.

Sidetracked from the name issue, Bel gave his surroundings a baffled look. Not a mountain?

Sevana hated to explain things, but he had to know how this all worked, otherwise he’d bumble into the wrong places later and cause havoc. He used to be just a mountain, but when I was about three I started playing in the caves up here with Kip. I decided one day that it would be more fun if the mountain could play with us and he did.

Bel’s eyes were so round they were in danger of falling out of his head. You made a mountain a sentient being?

Can you keep up with the conversation? she asked dryly, taking a left turn. Anyway, his name is Big. Big will respond to most requests that you ask, as long as it’s something he’s capable of doing. He’s made up a room for you, but there are times when the doors won’t open. Don’t try to force them if that happens. Big will re-route the tunnels on occasion and it’s dangerous to be outside of a room when he’s doing that.

Why would he re-route the tunnels?

Patience, she reminded herself. She had to be patient and explain things. With a deep breath, she answered, If there are intruders or someone that I don’t want to see, he changes the tunnels around so they just get lost in here and can’t find me.

Oh. There was a merciful moment of silence as Bel mulled this over. That’s quite clever, actually.

Sevana shot him an approving look. Big is smart, she agreed. But he makes mistakes. Sometimes, if he knows that you want to talk to me, he’ll arrange the tunnels so that you can go directly to me, but if I’m in my workroom, do not go inside. Don’t knock loudly either.

Err…I take it that’s dangerous?

She favored him with a withering look.

…Right, I won’t knock loudly, he agreed rapidly. Anything else I need to know?

Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be in training. Sevana paused at a crossroads and looked around her. Now where had Big put the new bedroom? There was space on either end of this hallway for one.

Training? he repeated blankly. Training for what?

On how to be a king, Sevana answered absently. Big, where’s his room?

The tunnel shifted slightly to where the right branch sloped at a downward angle. Ah, this side, huh? She turned, hand still firmly gripping the kid’s arm, and followed the silent cues Big gave her.

Bel had to lengthen his stride to a near run to keep up with her. You mean political training? he panted out.

The prince had no stamina, not that this was surprising. Being locked up in a room for ten years didn’t do much for the body, after all. That and fighting ability, governing skills, economics, trade skills, and anything else I think you need.

Big opened the door for them, letting the wooden portal swing inward. Sevana stepped just inside and released the prince’s arm. She looked around and nodded in approval. Big had moved a bed, dresser, and a trunk in here from one of the storage areas. He’d even put more effort than usual in making the floor smooth and the walls more angular.

While the prince stepped inside, looking around curiously, she continued her explanation. Big will show you where anything is as long as you ask him. The floor will have a slightly downward slope that will show you which direction to go. He’ll make a training space for you inside.

As you will. Pointing a finger upward, he asked, How do these lights work? It looks like a written incantation…

It is. She spared a glance up, for the first time in three years actually paying attention to them. She’d been stuck for ideas when she first moved into Big on how to have proper lighting. The water didn’t prove a challenge, as Big could create his own stone pipes and route water wherever he wanted, but light was a different story. She’d finally designed a special incantation infused into the metal of a fallen star and attached it to the ceiling of each room. It didn’t look like much, a simple metal ring the size of a grown man’s head with one set of runes engraved into it, but it proved to be ten times brighter than a normal lamp. When you enter a room, the spell will activate and light the room. If you want the light off when you’re inside, tell Big, and he’ll cover the incantation for you.

Bel stared at the ceiling for a moment, squinting against the stark white of the light. No way to turn it off again?

Certainly. Leave the room.

Ah.

Actually, if she could get around that minor irritation of not being able to turn the light off on command, she could market this and probably make a small fortune. Ah well. A problem for a different day. One more thing. Don’t go outside the mountain unless I’m with you.

His face became closed off and expressionless. So I’m a prisoner here, too?

No, she denied calmly, crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his eyes squarely. You can leave, but if you get into trouble outside, I’m not coming after you, and I’m not bailing you out.

He didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. After a moment, he nodded. Fair enough. I should exercise some caution when outside, I suppose.

Hearing those words sounded so odd coming from an eight-year-old child’s mouth, but Sevana needed to remember that he wasn’t eight and in fact had a few years on her. He just didn’t have any of the knowledge and experience that a twenty-one-year-old should have. Yes, you should. Don’t get yourself killed before I can break that curse.

For some reason he smiled at that, his eyes alight with amusement. Indeed. So when do you want to start on that?

Now. She waved him back out of the room and this time he followed her on his own.

A low grumbling noise came from around them. Bel automatically froze, a paranoid look on his face as he stared at the ceiling. Sevana, used to Big’s speech, just patted the wall. It’s fine, Big. The room’s just what he needs.

Bel pointed a finger at the roof. That rumbling noise was Big talking?

He talks in groans and whispers on the wind, she responded, leading the way through the dim tunnels to her workroom. You get used to it.

Ah. All right.

Unconcerned, she focused back on what she wanted to know. I need more details. Do you remember being hit with that curse?

Yes? he responded while rubbing the back of his head, sending his already mussed hair into an even messier tangle. I was walking in the back garden when this icy feeling ran across my skin, like someone had thrown me into ice water. When I looked around, I didn’t see anyone, but then I noticed that everything seemed taller. I looked down at my hands—he raised them to eye level as if reliving the moment—and I could see them steadily shrink. My bodyguard snatched me up and ran to the Magical Wizard of the Council, Pierpoint.

I know him, Sevana responded thoughtfully. She had studied under him, but only for a week. It had been quickly apparent that her magic wasn’t suited to spells, but crafting. Pierpoint had more magical