Tilting my head, I study her. “You think we might be friends?”
“Oh, definitely.” She gestures vaguely toward the door, which is strangely silent now. “She’s got a moody Reaper, too. Now, where’s this secret passage I’ve heard about?”
~~~
“This library is amazing.”
I shoot an amused glance at Odette as we walk through the space. Given the amount of dust and the faint smell of mold, it’s obvious no one’s taken care of this place over the years. My heart aches at the thought, remembering how much I used to hide down here when I was younger. It was a nice reprieve from royal duties and judgmental eyes.
“It’s something,” I say, walking with Odette deeper into the space. “You’re sure those two will be okay?”
“Zarev and Ban?” she asks, snorting. “Please. I think they live for a bit of chaos. Zarev didn’t get to fightanythinguntil we landed here. They might be Reapers now, but I imagine they all used to like to fight or hunt. They always seem to want to move.”
“You’ve spent a lot of time with each of them?”
She shrugs. “I’ve never met Lucius. Rapunzel hasn’t either. He’s in Thornton, which reminds me. We should look for a map and see if they have an updated one for you. Hell, I want to see one from a century ago and compare.”
I hesitate. “I do as well. I’m very curious to see how a whole kingdom took root between two kingdoms that are now allies.”
Odette meets my gaze with a grim look. She’s carrying around a little container that holds pixie dust, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen the dust used as a lantern. She said Zarev threw it at her before Ban brought her into my room. “Where do we begin?”
“Everything up here should be on current events,” I explain, dragging a finger over the shelf of a dusty case. There are hundreds of shelves here, with everything from dictations of royal meetings to tracking crops and trade. My father used to keep it organized, and his father before him, but I can see thatended with Andor’s reign. There are discarded books, scrolls, and spilled, dried ink everywhere we look. No one’s taken care of this place for a long time. “For records, we’ll need to go further back. Maybe to the lower level if Mother reorganized anything.”
“There are two floors?” Odette whispers in wonder.
I nod without looking her way, and we continue through the old library. It’s eerie that, thus far, we haven’t run into a single person, living or frozen, and I wonder how long it’s been since anyone cared to come in here.
“So you were really asleep for a century?” Odette asks carefully.
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“I heard a rumor that you were put to sleep by a villager,” she continues. “Ban confirmed it some time ago in Swan Lake.”
I shoot her a look. “Ban lied. He knew the truth already.”
“Hmm.” Odette keeps pace with me, but her presence feels less welcoming than it did when we first entered here. “So… what stops it from happening again?”
“Beg your pardon?”
We stop walking, and Odette’s strange eyes peer into mine. She’s a little taller than I am, glaring down her nose at me. “Your mother froze you for a hundred years. What would stop you from doing the same? Don’t you possess the same type of magic?”
“I’m ice,” I correct, straightening. “She was snow. A softer,weakerversion of winter. I can’t make flurries, nor could she make icy spears. We are not the same.”
“But Ban can do both?” she continues, and it doesn’t sound judgmental. “I’ve seen him use both versions of winter magic interchangeably. Plus, the shadows. Why are you limited to just one?”
I shrug. “Why is magic limited to anything? I was born with my magic. Ban was cursed. Just like the other Reapers,from what I understand. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Take you, for example. You hang around extraordinary beings yet you seem to be nothing more than average.”
Her eyes burn, and I gather I’ve insulted her. “I’m a shifter,” she tells me, her voice tight.
“Really?” I gesture around us to the empty library. “Shift then. Let’s see your powers.”
“Into aswan,” she hisses. “I already tested this out with Zarev. It’s too cold for my swan to be of much use. I’ll freeze faster that way.”
Tilting my head, I know she’s got to be right. She’s already bundled up, and a swan can’t survive in subzero temperatures. “You don’t look much like a shifter.”
She bares her teeth, brushing past me. “That’s because, kind of like the Reapers, I was cursed.”
I can’t recall any story about someone being cursed to shift, but my mother suffered a spell that slowly froze her to death. I suppose curses take many forms. “My apologies, Princess.” She bows her head slightly, and the subject is forgotten.
