“The masquerade will begin at twelve,” the man continues.
“Alice, this is Phineas,” Brahm says. “He will fetch anything you desire.”
Phineas turns to me as if startled. As he stares at me, his jaw goes slack, and his bushy white eyebrow twitches. “A…Alice?”
“That’s right…”
“Forgive me,” he says suddenly, shaking himself. He then bows low and continues walking, hurrying ahead to get the door before Brahm can reach it. “As Prince Brahm said, I will fetch anything you desire, at any hour of the day. You need but ask.”
“Thank you, Phineas,” Brahm says. “Please tell my mother I have arrived.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The man bows one more time before he bounds off.
“He’s usually running five errands at once,” Brahm says as we enter a grand foyer that boasts no less than five staircases. “He’s always late for something. If you do make a request, you’ll likely receive it in a week.”
“He’s certainly spry for someone his age.”
“He’s not old,” Brahm answers, leading me up the first winding staircase on the left. “He’s nearly my age.”
I stop mid-step, baffled.
“Mother cursed him several years ago,” Brahm explains. “She said if he was as slow as an old man, he might as well look like one.”
I merely nod, not sure what to make of that.
After taking a few more twists and turns, we venture through a window-lined colonnade that looks down at the gardens on both sides. It ends in a single red door.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Brahm doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is stiff. “My quarters.”
He opens the door, letting me go in first. We’re now in a narrow, circular stairway. The stone steps twist as they rise, and windows occasionally dot the area to let in light. But it’s almost dark outside now, and it’s difficult to see.
I trip, stumbling back into Brahm. He catches me by my waist, and my neck ends up dangerously close to his mouth. My pulse quickens, both from the fall and the feel of his warm breath against my skin.
“Careful,” he murmurs, holding me until I get my footing.
Swallowing, I continue.
He raises his hand, and suddenly, sconces on the wall come to life, filling the space with warm light. “Better?” he asks.
Not trusting my voice, I nod.
We finally reach the top of the stairway, where another red door waits for us.
“Another hall?”
“The castle is like a labyrinth,” Brahm says, apologizing. “But we’re almost there.”
Though the space is clearly a walkway to another part of the castle, it’s wider than the glassed-in colonnade we traveled a few minutes ago. Tall, fern-like plants grow on stands placed in front of the narrow windows. They have long, white fronds, and they appear to move despite a lack of breeze.
“What are those?” I ask.
“Cloud Elosia.”
“Are they…breathing?”
“They are—I don’t recommend touching them.”