Max took a step toward the hallway window before the king could say anything else.

  He rested one hand on the frame and pointed outside.

  From there, the castle’s central courtyard was visible: wide, cobbled, with fountains and banners. At its center stood a mast of reinforced stone. At the top, a white-and-gold fg fluttered, embroidered with the symbol of the royal family.

  The crown.

  “That one,” Max said without looking away. “That fg.”

  The king followed the direction of his finger and frowned.

  “And what exactly am I supposed to see?”

  Max turned to face him.

  “If I manage to bring that fg down with my own hands,” he expined calmly, “I win the bet.”

  Silence fell instantly.

  “Enor will be allowed to leave the castle. Not all the time. Not without rules. But she’ll be able to take walks during her free time.”

  The king looked at him as if he’d just heard a particurly bad joke.

  “And if you don’t make it?” he asked, crossing his arms.

  “Then I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide,” Max replied. “No conditions. For me alone.”

  The king let out a short, dry ugh.

  “That’s it?” he said incredulously. “Climb a mast?”

  He looked back out the window, this time more carefully. The height wasn’t absurd… but it wasn’t trivial either. There were no stairs. No obvious handholds. And certainly nothing someone with Max’s body could accomplish through brute strength alone.

  The king looked him up and down again.

  “With that physique,” he remarked, not bothering to hide his contempt, “you won’t even make it halfway. Are you sure you want to bet something like that?”

  Max met his gaze without hesitation.

  “Completely sure.”

  Enor, who had remained silent, took a small step toward him.

  “Max…” she murmured, clearly worried.

  He turned his head slightly to look at her.

  He didn’t smile.

  But there was confidence in his eyes.

  Enor swallowed… and nodded slowly.

  The king watched the exchange closely. Something like curiosity seeped into his expression.

  “Very well,” he said at st. “Let’s make it interesting.”

  He turned to the guards.

  “The event will take pce after my nap.”

  Then he looked back at Max, this time with a crooked smile.

  “I have a habit of winning my bets,” he added. “So I’ll use my rest to dream up suitable punishments.”

  He turned on his heel and began walking back toward his chambers.

  “I hope you don’t regret it, boy,” he said over his shoulder. “Or maybe I do. That could be entertaining too.”

  The door closed behind him. The guards returned to their posts.

  ***

  The central courtyard was unusually crowded.

  The king appeared first, walking with a steady stride. Around him, several royal guards spread out, forming a semicircle that left the mast and the fg perfectly visible.

  The banner of the crown waved calmly, oblivious to the tension gathering below.

  Enor was already there.

  Standing beside Abby and Sophie, her hands csped in front of her, she stared up at the sky with a dangerous mix of hope and terror. Abby was chewing something—no one knew what—while watching the mast with a skeptical expression. Sophie, meanwhile, stood with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, as if she wanted to scold someone who hadn’t arrived yet.

  A little farther back, Frida leaned against a wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

  “He’s crazy,” she said bluntly. “Completely crazy.”

  “How tall is that mast?” Don asked, scratching his beard.

  “Taller than any of us,” Bertha replied from the other side of the courtyard, her tree-trunk arms crossed over her chest. Beside her, Bim and Bam stared upward with their mouths open.

  “I say he dies,” Bim whispered.

  “I say he breaks everything, but doesn’t die,” Bam corrected.

  “I say the king sends him to clean trines for life,” Frida concluded.

  Enor tightened her hands.

  “Don’t say that…”

  Abby sighed.

  “E, with all due affection,” she said, “no one in their right mind bets something like this with your father.”

  “Where’s the boy?” the king asked, looking around. “I don’t intend to waste more time than necessary.”

  One of the guards gnced toward the towers.

  “Your Majesty… I think—”

  A voice cut him off.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!”

  Everyone looked up at the same time.

  At the top of one of the tallest towers in the castle—far taller than the mast—stood Dorian. He leaned out of a window, one hand raised as if announcing a circus act.

  “Prepare yourselves to witness the spectacle of the flying pet!”

  A murmur rippled through the courtyard.

  The king narrowed his eyes.

  “What in the—?”

  A step away from Dorian, Max appeared.

  He braced both hands on the railing, leaning out just enough to look down. From up there, the courtyard looked dangerously small. The mast, ridiculously far away.

  He smiled.

  A shaky smile.

  “Well,” Dorian murmured, leaning toward him, “st chance to back out.”

  Max swallowed.

  “Was that a question or a threat?”

  “Both,” Dorian sighed. “I can heal you if you break something. But let’s be clear about one thing: I’m not a necromancer. If you turn into paste on the ground… that’s where my help ends.”

  Max let out a short ugh.

  “Rex.”

  Dorian gnced at him.

  “I’m not.”

  Max took a deep breath, staring into the void ahead.

  “I’ve got a trick,” he said quietly. “It’ll work.”

  Dorian hesitated for a few seconds… then nodded.

  “It better.”

  Below, the king stepped forward.

  “You!” he shouted up at the tower. “Elf!”

  Dorian leaned out.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “You are not allowed to help him,” the king said firmly. “I don’t know what you’re pnning, but I won’t have any interference.”

  Dorian raised both hands.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smiled. “I’m just a privileged spectator.”

  The king grunted.

  “Then tell him to hurry.” He gnced at the sun, gauging the time. “I have royal duties to attend to.”

  Enor took a step forward, unable to stay still.

  “Max…” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

  Above, Max closed his eyes for a second.

  The tower. The wind. The fg.

  This is like the plumber from the game, he suddenly thought. Jumping for the banner to save the princess.

  He opened his eyes.

  Except she’s not the princess from that game. And I’m definitely not the hero.

  He straightened.

  Dorian stepped back, giving him space.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  Max pced one foot on the edge of the railing.

  Below, the entire courtyard held its breath.

  And the king smiled, certain that he had already won.