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“You know, I never really learned to swim.”

“I thought you grew up on a lake.”

“Too many water moccasins. They’re a type of snake, very aggressive.”

He almost added, And sneaky, kind of like you, but managed to keep that thought inside, so maybe he was growing up.

“That is unfortunate. Water is an excellent grounding for magic and one’s thoughts.”

“I remember. You taught me that.”

“Something is bothering you.”

Silver sat, and a deck chair appeared beneath him. He smelled of fresh water, but not chlorine. A second chair materialized at his side and he gestured. Adam declined with a little shake of his head.

It was a little strange to be fully dressed while the king was not, but it wasn’t like Argent’s gear would save him if things went ugly.

“Speak,” Silver commanded. “I’ve little time to myself.”

“I found what you didn’t want found, and I came to ask you why you hid it.”

“I see.”

The king stood, and despite himself, Adam braced for the impact.

“Come with me.”

The pool stilled, its peaceful ripples freezing in place. The ice parted. At the bottom, a stairwell opened, leading into the dark.

Was this it? Was this how he ended, at the hands of his first love who he’d thought he knew? There would be a neat symmetry to it. He hadn’t known Silver was Perak, not at first. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see it. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see this coming—still didn’t.

At least Daff could probably track his body, unless this was a volcano situation.

He followed Silver down the spiral stairs. The frozen pool made him shiver despite his clothes, but the king did not notice.

Still, he was fully dressed when the stairs changed and the way behind them closed.

They continued to descend.

Niches in the stone walls held little statues, crystal idols. All were elves wearing cryptic smiles. They glowed blue with a faint touch of gold, something like the first brush of sunrise.

The stairs ended in a large, circular room. The stone walls had a deep blueish cast, not unlike the ocean. The floor was grayer, not unlike the Between. By the weight of it all, Adam supposed they were deep underground.

Light bloomed. It matched the glow of the idols.

Books and scrolls, clay tablets and even a few wooden carvings, were stacked here. It was a tiny collection, ordered and displayed, though from the dust coating nearly everything, Adam got the sense that no one had come here in a very long time.

“Where are we?”

The king let out a string of syllables that sounded like leaves rustling in the wind. It was rare for one of them to speak their true language in Adam’s presence. He did not know if it was taboo, courtesy, or caution. They wore glamours to hide their true faces from him. Perhaps their language, unfiltered, held similar risks.

“Roughly translated, it means the Crypt of Dreams or the Crypt of the Dreamer. It is considered holy and sacred among us.”

It was a place of power, Adam could feel that much.

“You never struck me as particularly religious.”

“I am not, but just because I do not pray to or worship a power, does not mean it does not exist.”