"There's nobody here," Grayson said.

Penny looked up. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, eating a jar of sour cherries. The castle kitchens were a mess; pasta and bronze pots dangled from the ceiling, and sooty footprints criss-crossed the wooden floorboards. Whoever had been down here last — the cook and the servants, presumably — had left in a hurry.

"I don't think someone could fit in there," Penny observed.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. He was crouched in front of a large cupboard, a broadsword strapped across his back. His white shirt had come untucked at the back. He ran a hand through his hair, sending blond clumps sticking up in all directions.

"What about this one?" he asked.

Grayson kicked open a cupboard. A loaf of mouldy bread tumbled to the floor. Penny wrinkled her nose.

"Gross," she said.

Grayson pivoted in a circle. Then he wrenched open a cupboard to his left. "This one's also clear."

"No offense," Penny said, fishing for a cherry, "but I seriously doubt that enemy soldiers are going to be hiding in a cupboard."

Grayson's brow creased. "How do you know?"

Penny popped the cherry into her mouth. "I just do."

The frown deepened. "I still think it's worth checking all of them. Just to be thorough."

Penny set down the jar. She could remind Grayson that if someone was in the kitchens, she'd be able to sense their presence. But then again, Grayson seemed to be enjoying his cupboard exploration. And it was rare that they enjoyed anything these days.

"Go on, then," Penny said. "I'll supervise."

Grayson took to the task with gleeful abandon, kicking and yanking open cupboards. Random items tumbled to the floor — old rags and dried herbs — and Penny hid a smile. She thought of the golden hounds that her father had kept, the way they would bound of their kennels in the morning to roll around in the fields. Some things, Penny reflected, did not do well being caged for too long.

Grayson wrenched open a cupboard. He made a noise of alarm, stumbling back, and Penny jumped off the counter.

"What is it?" Penny demanded.

Her heart slammed in her chest. The cupboard was small — certainly not big enough to conceal an enemy soldier — but it could contain any other manner of things. An explosive. A severed arm. A mouldering corpse. Grayson pulled a face.

"Spider," he said.

Penny pressed a hand to her throat. "Stars, Gray. I thought it was something terrible."

Grayson's face was dark. "You haven't seen the size of that thing. That spider looks like it's eaten all the other spiders."

Penny strode forward. The spider crouched at the back of the cupboard, shying away from the light spilling in. The creature was, Penny observed with amusement, no bigger than her palm. Grayson made a noise of protest as she reached into the cupboard, cradling the cowering spider in her hands.

Penny turned for the door. "Come on."

Grayson's gaze was suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"Freeing it," Penny said.

She led him through a series of corridors, only pausing when they reached a courtyard. Fiery red and brown leaves scattered the stone tiles. The air felt like a cold hand pressed to her cheek, and Penny shivered, crouching down to release the spider on to pile of leaves; the creature scuttled away, disappearing through a crack in the stone wall.

Penny rose.

Grayson lingered near the entrance, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Penny was struck by the memory of a night when they had stood in this courtyard. Snow had drifted down like frozen stars, dusting their shoulders. Penny could see them now, a tall boy and a redheaded girl, their heads tipped together like two children sharing secrets beneath a blanket fort. A lump rose in her throat. That was the problem with this damned place, Penny thought; every room was a time capsule. A castle filled with ghosts.

"Are you alright?" Grayson asked.

He was studying her face. Penny looked up. From this angle, she could see the corner of the South Tower. She wondered if her mother's things were still there: Brigid's sapphire earrings, her hand mirror, a half-drunk cup of the sludgy carrot juice that she'd pretended to like the taste of...

"I think..." Penny exhaled. "I know it's silly, but I keep expecting to see Mum here. It feels like this castle shouldn't exist without her."

Grayson's face softened. "I'm sorry."

"Does it ever go away?" Penny asked. "Missing them?"

Grayson ran a hand over his face. "I'm not sure. I was so young when my parents died. Sometimes all I remember are little bits and pieces of them. Dad's cologne, Mum's green fan, the way they'd swing me between their arms when we walked to the beach..." He dropped his hand. "Sometimes I miss the future we could have had together. The person I could have been with them."

"Well," Penny said, "I like the person you are now."

Grayson held her gaze. "Do you?"

"Yeah." She gave him a small smile. "He's alright."

"And handsome," Grayson added. "Charming. Not bad with a sword."

Penny's smile grew. "Modest, too."

"Sometimes," Grayson said, "I wish I was more like you."

Grayson spoke as if he'd considered the matter — as if was something he'd taken the time to really think about — and something warm curled in Penny's stomach. She looked away. "Short and ginger?"

"Brave," Grayson said softly. "I wish I was as brave as you."

Penny hugged her arms around herself. The air felt cold against her hot cheeks, and she had the sudden, stupid urge to cry. Or laugh. Too often, Penny thought, the sensations felt the same to her. Grayson moved closer.

"You're always doing the stupidest things," Grayson said. "Battling sea monsters, and throwing yourself through mysterious trap doors, and if I'm honest, it'll probably take twenty years off my life span, but the thing is, Pen..." His smile was sad. "You tear into life. You're fearless."

"Well," Penny said, "I wish I was more like you."

Grayson blinked. "How so?"

Penny drew a breath. "I've always been good at finding the right words, but I've never been any good at saying them."

She looked up. Grayson was standing inches away, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, flickering like fireflies in navy skies. There was something in his gaze that was impossible to describe, Penny thought; something that reminded her of warm fires in the winter. She didn't have a word for it, but maybe that was a good thing. The best things in life defied language.

"I have something for you," Grayson said.

He rummaged in his pocket, producing a velvet box with a thick golden ribbon. Penny raised an eyebrow. "My birthday isn't for another month."

"I know," Grayson said.

He held it out. Penny turned the box over in her hands. There was a sprig of jasmine tucked into the ribbon, and her name was spelled out on thick cardstock. Whatever it was, she thought, it was expensive.

"Go on," Grayson said. "Open it."

Penny took off the lid.

A golden locket was nestled on a velvet cushion. A slender silver needle sat at the centre of it, surrounded by letters written in curving script. Not a locket, Penny realized, a lump rising in her throat. A compass.

She looked up. "It's beautiful."

"It's from a smith in Libertas," Grayson said. "Duran. He used to make jewelry for my parents. My father used to design the most hideous rings for my mother. Big, gaudy, things with studs all over them." His mouth curved. "But Duran always managed to make them look nice. My mother called him a forgery wizard."

Penny lifted the compass from the box. Something about it was eerily familiar, and it took her a second to make the connection. "Your tattoo." She lay the compass on his forearm, directly over his own. "It's the same, isn't it?"

Grayson's smile grew. "Exactly the same. I was thinking..."

"What?" Penny asked.

His eyes were painfully blue. "Wherever you are in this world, this will lead you back to me."

Penny swallowed. She wasn't sure exactly what it was — the fact that it was a compass, or the fact that Grayson had gone out of his way to make it, or maybe even that she knew he couldn't possibly afford something like this — but a bubble expanded in her chest. She suddenly felt too big for her body.

Penny drew a breath. "Grayson?"

He cupped her cheek. "Yes?"

She braced herself. "I'm in lo—"

"Penny!" a voice called.

They turned.

Isaac stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. He beckoned, and a flash of irritation went through her. Penny opened her mouth — to tell him to sod off, most likely — but then she caught sight of Isaac's face.

"What is it?" Penny demanded.

Isaac's mouth tightened. "Meet me in the east entrance hall. Right now."

Grayson took a step forward. "Did you find something?"

Isaac turned. "I'll explain later."

Something cold settled in Penny's chest. "Is someone hurt?"

He grimaced. "Just come quickly."