“Historian? Where might I find one of those?”
“In the palace library. Amma, her name is. She’s been working here longer than I have, she’ll know if there are secret passages in the palace.”
Anders shook Gus’ hand once more and thanked him, hope taking wing in his heart. The friendly gardener had just given Anders his first promising lead in the mystery of the Princesses and their ruined shoes, and with only two more nights to solve it, there was no time to waste. His very life depended on it.
Chapter 10
Anders
Anders jogged up the stone steps that led from the gardens to the palace, followed by his guards. As he reached the heavy double doors and grabbed the handle, the door swung open and Princess Isadora tumbled out with a gasp.
Anders put an arm out to catch her before she fell. “My apologies, Your Royal Highness. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He steadied her as she gripped his forearm for balance; slender, bronze fingers wrapped around his bare wrist where he’d rolled back the sleeves of his tunic. Her touch sent tendrils of warmth over his skin, spreading through him and leaving a tingling sensation wherever they touched. It felt strangely pleasant, and Anders swallowed as the tightness in his chest loosened just a fraction. Here she was, the ballerina whose dancing had made him feel something other than loneliness and fear and sorrow, for the first time in years. He knew he was leaving soon, and their kingdoms were bitter rivals, but for a brief while he could pretend that they might have been friends.
When Isadora looked at him, seeming to realise who he was, she pulled her hand away as though she’d been burned. A chill ran over Anders’ flesh as her warmth left him, and he suppressed a shiver.
“Forgive me,” she said politely. “I’m a little unsteady on my feet today. I should let you be on your way.” She stepped to one side and schooled her features into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Anders could see the exhaustion in her face, in the shadows around her warm brown eyes and the tautness of her mouth. The curse appeared to be taking a toll on her, making him question whether the Princesses could be the orchestrators of their own fate after all. If they were, they surely regretted it now.
With a quick glance at the two guards standing on the stone steps behind him, Anders seized his opportunity. “Not at all, it was entirely my fault.” He bowed his head slightly and saw the surprise in the Princess’s face when he straightened. She’d been expecting a lowborn criminal and he had caught her off guard. Now was his chance. “If you don’t mind me asking, Princess Isadora, where are you off to in such a hurry?” He kept his expression neutral, his tone conversational, silently willing her not to command his guards to escort him away.
Isadora’s expression faltered momentarily, and he held his breath. Finally, she said, “My mother. I was on my way to visit her and take her some flowers from the gardens.” She gazed out across the manicured lawns and vibrant flowerbeds. Her voice turned wistful. “She loved sunflowers.”
Anders bowed his head, genuine compassion in his voice. “I heard of your mother’s passing, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
The Princess’s gaze shuttered and she waved a hand. “Thank you, it was a long time ago.”
“I saw her painting, she was beautiful. The resemblance between you two is striking.” Realising what he’d said, Anders felt heat creep up his neck. It was true, the Princess was beautiful, but he hadn’t quite meant to say so out loud.
Isadora’s lips twitched and a faint line appeared between her brows, as though she were trying to decipher something. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
Something in her expression had changed from the beginning of their conversation. She no longer seemed desperate to continue on her way. And, if he was honest with himself, Anders was in no rush for their conversation to end either.
“You must miss her very much.” He went on. He knew he was pushing the boundaries of polite conversation, but he may not have many other chances to speak to Isadora alone and he needed to find out as much as he could to help him figure out who had cursed the Princesses, and why.
“Sometimes, yes,” Isadora replied, her eyes cast downwards. She looked up at him then, her dark eyes framed by long lashes. “But we have each other, Livia and I. And Father. We’re very fortunate, in lots of ways.”
“Was it a long illness?”
A shadow crossed her face, and Anders feared he’d gone too far. But she shook her head. “No, not from what I can remember. It came on quite suddenly, and within just a few days she was gone. There was nothing the physician could do.”
Anders took a step closer, and instead of moving away, Isadora held her ground, chin high. This was it, his chance to discover what she knew, if anything. He lowered his voice. “Could your mother have been cursed, like yourself? Could her sickness have been something else?”
Isadora’s eyes widened and her lips parted. “You think someone killed my mother? No, that’s not possible. It was a wasting disease, it was nothing like our—my,” she stammered, shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t believe that.’
Marco and Paolo stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Anders was already backing away from the Princess, putting an appropriate distance between them. “My apologies, Your RoyalHighness. I meant no offence. Please forgive me. I’ll let you be on your way now and go speak to the historian.”
Isadora faltered. “Amma? She’ll be in the library. What is it you want to speak with her about?”
Anders suppressed a smile. His words had had the intended effect—he’d piqued her curiosity about his investigation. Or perhaps, Isadora was behind the entire thing and was worried about what he might discover—although, he doubted that was the case. Either way, he’d chosen the right stone to look under. “I just have a few questions about the Gilded Palace and the general history of the Golden Isle. But I won’t keep you any longer, Princess.” He bowed. “Good day.”
And with that he strode into the palace, closely followed by his guards, leaving her standing on the steps.
Anders had hoped to make some kind of connection with Princess Isadora, in order to further his investigation, but he hadn’t expected to feel anything more than sympathy for her. She had a habit of surprising him, this Golden Princess, and despite the circumstances, he found himself looking forward to their next exchange.
Inside the palace,Marco led the way to the library, down corridors with glass roofs that let the midday sun pour in and fill the space with light and warmth. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight, and the gold leaf adorning picture frames and side tables glimmered. A crystal vase filled with sunflowers sent a prism of multi-coloured light across the pale walls, like a miniature rainbow.
Anders found it all overwhelmingly ostentatious. In D’Argentis, the fashion was minimalist—conservative, even. Infact, fashion mattered nought in the Silver Isle; if an item wasn’t essential or useful, it had no purpose. Decorative touches were kept to a minimum; bearskin rugs and woollen blankets for warmth, and simple candlesticks for light. The occasional deer head mounted on the wall. Although Anders remembered his mother hand-weaving small tapestries by candlelight during the Longest Night; the half-a-year period when the sun never rose and the entire isle lived in darkness. And she had encouraged him in his drawing and passion for art, whereas his father had only appreciated Anders’ skill with charcoal and pencil as far as it could be used. Which is how Anders had ended up a cartographer in the Northern Army.
They reached the library and Anders stepped through the glass doors into a vast, elegant room with more books than he had ever seen in his life lined up on the shelves. Gazing around, he thought all of the knowledge in the entire world must be contained in this one room. He stood in the entrance taking it all in, the moulded plaster and gilded curlicues, the painted frescoes on the high ceiling, depicting a bright sun and a shining goddess in golden robes. The thousands of leather and cloth bound books in every different colour and thickness. There were libraries in D’Argentis, of course, but nothing as large or grand as this. Finally, Anders felt at home somewhere in the Gilded Palace. His fingers itched to capture these new surroundings in his sketchbook. Perhaps if he were to solve the mystery and free Isadora from her curse, he’d be permitted to spend a little time here before he had to return home to the Northern Isle. For research purposes.
