"Someone."
" — kept us apart for three years. I need to understand how and why. I won’t let you be put in danger again.”
There was a rawness in his voice that made her chest tighten as her heart slammed against her ribcage. Mal swallowed, her anger dissipating like fog under the sun. "Fine."
"Fine?"
She nodded.
“So can we proceed to solve this mystery now?”
“Yes.”
"Excellent."
Phillip reached for her hand. Mal took his offering, denying to herself that it felt like surrender. Phillip's fingers wrapped around hers as they climbed the tower's long and winding stairs. Mal's fingers curled tightly around his, holding on as though letting go would shatter her completely.
"What finally made you believe Aurora was lying?"
"She came to my bedroom."
"That's the first time?" Mal tried to keep the accusation out of her tone. She believed Phillip when he told her he was devoted to her.
"No, she's come by a lot in the past, but she rarely knocks."
Mal managed to keep a relaxed grip on Phillip's hand. Stone crumbled beneath the fingertips where the other hand touched the wall.
"It's the first time she's ever tried to get in my bed, though."
Neither Mal nor her magic had time to react to that statement. They'd reached the door to the tower. The pulseof dark magic oozing from the cracks around the door frame made Mal recoil. The door creaked open without either of them touching it, inviting them—daring them—to come inside.
The air inside the tower was thick with enchantments, making Mal’s skin prickle as she stepped through the arched doorway. Dust motes drifted lazily in the filtered light that streamed through a single narrow window. The room felt alive—bristling with the latent power of objects left to languish here.
A cracked mirror sat leaning against the wall. Its surface shimmered unnaturally, as though it were aware of their presence. The reflection within seemed to ripple, distorted by something unseen, as though it waited for someone brave—or foolish—enough to look into its glass.
On a small wooden table, a bright red cape was folded neatly, though claw marks showed that the fabric was shredded on one side. An apple, as red and glossy as freshly spilled blood, rested on a shelf, the air around it humming with dark energy. A single bite had been taken out of it. But around the white flesh, there were no brown marks of decay.
A pair of glass slippers, so delicate they looked like they would shatter with a touch, gleamed eerily from a corner. The root of each shoe bore streaks of blood at the tips where a woman's toes would have been forced to fit.
On a dresser by the far wall, a conch shell sat, its surface iridescent. The shell pulsed faintly, like it was alive. Mal's eyes lingered on it for a moment, her magic brushing against its aura. It carried whispers of the sea that filled her ears with faint echoes. There was a power within it slumbering, waiting to be awakened.
Phillip had pointed out the tower when they were children. They hadn't dared venture up the steps, not with all the dark magic inside. Phillip's father had been trying to rid the land of curses after the Fairy Godmothers had abandoned Evermore.
A cursed spindle gleamed malevolently on a pedestal. Its sharp tip caught the light like a tooth waiting to bite. In the quiet, Mal swore she heard it whisper to her. In her mind's eye, a vision flashed of that needle coming toward her.
But that was impossible. She'd never once set foot in this room.
Beside her, Phillip stepped forward, his gaze locked on the spindle. His hand lifted toward it, as though something unseen called to him, drawing him closer.
“Phillip, wait.” Mal grabbed his wrist, her magic crackling between them. The pulse of her power hummed in the air, wrapping around them like a protective veil.
Phillip blinked, the trance breaking. “It feels like... it’s calling me."
More and more, this scene felt like a memory. Except they hadn't been in this room. They'd been… in Aurora's rooms.
Aurora had invited them both. She wanted to show them her wedding dress. It was soon after the mantle of Guardianship had passed to Mal. Soon after, Phillip had lost his father and would take the crown. He had been expected to marry soon. Expected to marry her—Aurora.
Mal had been seething. Phillip had been calm. He'd said they would explain to Aurora how things were, that he loved Mal and couldn't marry Aurora.
