“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Azalea?” I ask with no real conviction behind the words.
“Perhaps next time, Madam Azalea.” He gives me a quick wink before scooting past me, leaving the library door open.
Normally, I would have fought him harder on it, mostly for the opportunity to converse with someone other than myself, Braxton, or Rhoden, but I was too eager to get back to what I was researching before Braxton threw me out of the library and had the doors locked.
The gentle clack of my heels echoes through the labyrinth of books. It always strikes me as odd how a room filled with so much knowledge could be so hauntingly quiet. My mind drifts to how, like every other room in this castle, this library is adorned with immaculate furnishings, but somehow stepping inside it, it feels empty. The castle bustles with people keeping it pristine, yet there’s no life left in it.
My mind is lost to these thoughts until I spot the table I was working at yesterday. The table that had previously been piled high with the countless books I meticulously scoured the shelves for but is now empty. A rising fury fills every pore in my body to the point where I can practically feel my ears tinge pink.
“Typical,” I grumble under my breath.
He must have had Gravesley put all the books back, and now I would have to waste half my afternoon finding them again. Unlucky for him, I remember exactly where I found at least four of the books I was looking at yesterday. I decide to start with those, and see what I can learn on the off chance he continues to have Gravesley put the books back and waste my time at the end of each day again.
Recently, I’ve discovered, thanks to Rhoden, that curses are very fickle in nature. Namely, if a loophole is discovered, the entire curse can essentially become null and void. So, my new mission in life is to find that loophole in my curse.
The problem is that I still don’t know the details of the deal my father made with Braxton. Regardless, I’ve made it my mission to discover the exact parameters of their agreement, so that I can find the gaps that no doubt resides inside it. I firmly believe that every deal has a loophole, and thus every curse can be broken.
Walking up to the first shelf that has a book detailing the history of curses, my fingers trail along the spines of the books as I skim the titles. I stop short when I notice the gap among them.
No.I shake my head, my vision becoming a hazy red fog. Quickly racing over to the other shelf with the book that details the inner workings of curses, I find a large gap in that bookshelf as well.
A seething huff escapes my lips as my heels clack against the marbled tiles decorating the floor of the library. Grasping the skirts of my dress in tight fists, I stomp up the stairs to the second level of the library and make my way to the bookshelf with the book that covers the different types of curses and how they are formed and created. Empty again.
My fingers curl around the neck of a lamp sitting on the table next to me. Before I can stop myself, I hurl it to the ground as an infuriated yell rips free from my throat. I watch as the rose garden pattern etched into the stained-glass lamp base shatters into a million tiny pieces. One of the shards of glass ricochets off the ground and slices the top of my foot, but I barely feel the pain as a thin line of scarlet bubbles to the surface of my skin. I’m too preoccupied relishing in the unhealthy satisfaction filling me at ruining something of Braxton’s. Though I doubt he will care about a vase that once decorated a room he rarely ventures into.
It’s bad enough that Braxton had the books removed from the table, but he went as far as to take them out of the library altogether. I make my way toward the stairs, hearing the satisfying crunch of the shattered glass under my heels.
For a split second, I’m tempted to grab one of the larger pieces of broken glass. I wonder if I grasped the jagged edges tight enough and felt their painful pricks slice through my skin, it would distract me from the inextinguishable anger that churns in my gut on a daily basis. I’m tired of being angry, but then again, it hasn’t exhausted me enough to where I can stop. Plus, I could carry that shard of glass all the way to Braxton’s office. I envision his shock to see me standing there, crimson droplets falling from my hand, right before I cut that pretty face of his. Instead, I gather my wits and storm out of the library, not bothering to close the doors behind me.
As much as I am trapped in this castle, I only have three rules that I must abide by.
Always come to dinner.
Do not leave the castle grounds.
Never bother Braxton while he’s in his study.
I’m eagerly about to break rule number three as my feet carry me to his study. With each step closer, I realize I have to play this right because if Braxton went as far as to remove all the books from the library, that only tells me one thing.
I must be getting close to discovering something.
5
Braxton
Myfingerscrumpletheparchment in my hand before I throw it back onto my desk in a rumpled heap. How dare that little bitch write to me. As if she hasn’t taken enough from me. As if the countdown that has been looming over my head for centuries isn’t enough for her masochistic heart. Now she’s going to disturb one of the small bits of peace I’m able to hold onto.
