Emily Windsnap and the Castle in the Mist by Liz Kessler Page B

grimace. “It’s not exactly straightforward. You’ll never believe me.”
    I laughed. “You think your family history is hard to believe. Wait till you hear mine!”
    He didn’t smile. “Trust me. It’s complicated. Or it was. There’s nothing too complicated now, though, as it’s just Mother and me.”
    “Just the two of you in this whole place?”
    “And a few si —” He stopped himself, covering whatever he was about to say with a cough.
    “A few what?” I asked.
    “Servants,” he said quickly.
    “You weren’t going to say that. What were you going to say?” I insisted.
    Aaron shook his head and stood up. “I don’t think I can tell you,” he said. “I’m not sure. Look, why don’t you tell me about you instead? How did you get here? It’s supposed to be impossible.”
    “It nearly was,” I said. “I tried again and again.” Could I tell him about the ring? It was tight on my finger, the diamond warm against my closed palm. I could feel it almost scorching my hand, getting hotter. What was it saying? Tell him? Or keep it to myself?
    Why should I keep it secret, anyway? I had nothing to hide. “Look, if I tell you, you promise you’ll believe me?” I wanted to tell him. I felt I could trust him. I don’t know why. There was just something about him that I could connect with. As though we spoke the same language.
    “Why would I do otherwise? Why would you lie?”
    “OK,” I said. “Well, it was this. It kind of led me here.” I held my hand out and opened my palm to reveal the ring. “Now, I know you’ll think I’m making it up or you’ll think I’m crazy or something, but I promise I’m telling you the —”
    “Where did you get that?” Aaron reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling it toward him to look closer. His voice shook so much I could barely understand what he’d said. He swallowedhard, catching his breath. His pale face had turned even paler. “Where did you get it?” he repeated.
    “I — I found it,” I said uncertainly.
    “Do you know what it is?” he asked.
    “Well, I — yes, I think I do.” Did he know what the ring was? Had he heard of Neptune, heard the story?
    “I’ve never seen it,” he said in a whisper. “Not the real one!”
    He fell silent, squeezing his mouth into a tight line and his eyes into slits while he thought. “All right,” he said, making up his mind about something. “We’ve got time. Come with me.”
    With that, he motioned to me to follow him to the door. Glancing down the corridor again, he nodded back to me. “Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

    Aaron led me down a maze of corridors, scurrying quickly along till we came to a thick wooden door with bars and bolts across it. I followed him outside. Below us, the sea washed against rocks in the semidarkness. We ran around to the front of the castle and back inside through a small arched door. Following Aaron inside, I felt as though I were stepping further and further into a dream. Was anyof this real? I mean, it felt real. The bricks of the castle were thick and hard, the rocks below were jagged and cold. But, still, something in the at mosphere made me feel as though I were floating, suspended just above reality, as if the castle really were floating on the mist.
    I closed the door behind me.
    We were in what looked like a small church. A tiny chapel in a remote wing of the castle. A few rows of seats all faced a raised platform at the front. Stained-glass windows were filled with pictures of biblical scenes.
    I followed Aaron to the raised platform. Right at the back of it there was a chest. He opened it. “Look,” he said, pointing inside.
    I peered into it. It contained a glass cabinet and, inside that — two rings. I looked closer at the one on the left, comparing it with the ring on my finger. It was identical!
    “But that’s — but they’re —”
    “Imitations,” he said. “My great-grandfather made them. From the descriptions,