Margaret tapped her chin. “I don’t actually know. He’s just never left. I think it’s because he’s so big and bulky. He is just made of armor.”
“He’s only made of armor?” Morton’s shaggy eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, look who’s asking questions now,” I whispered as I passed him to dust the counter.
“Yes,” Margaret said. “But he doesn’t seem to realize that. We think that armor must’ve belonged to the real Sir Arthur, a hero in his time, and now because of the castle’s magic, the armor has somehow come to life. Kind of like me.” She frowned. “But not as fun to talk to.”
Morton snorted, and I shot him a look to be quiet.
I finished dusting the counter and walked over to one of the bookshelves, piling as many books in my arms as I could. “Well, Morton, I think the castle is amazing. It can make anything inside it magical. Like its hallways or its water pipes or its sconces?—”
“Yes, I understand the point.” Morton pushed the rag along. “So why can’t we get one of the magical rags?”
The book stack teetered in my arms and came crashing to the floor, a few of the books flying upward before they hit the ground. It seemed some of the books could fly and others were dormant. At some point, I’d try to figure out why.
“I told you not to try and grab so many,” Morton said.
I knelt to arrange them into a neat stack. “I thought I could make it!”
“That’s what you said the last four times, and yet you’ve dropped every stack.”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I don’t think there are any magical rags. There is a magical broom, but when I tried to take it from Cillian’s room, it swatted me.” I narrowed my eyes at the pink bookwyrm. “You know, if you want some magical cleaning supplies, you could go look for them yourself.”
Since we’d found this library five days ago, Morton hadn’t left it, not even to come to our room at bedtime, where I was warm and toasty from the fire godwitch statue.
“I like it here, and I have everything I need. Why leave?”
Margaret hopped into a painting of a field near me, the deep tears in the painting making her form distorted. “By the by, I heard an interesting rumor.”
I stiffened at her tone, wondering exactly who this rumor was about and feeling like I already knew.
“You and the high prince are to be married?” Margaret shrieked. “Why did you let me prattle on like that about him and Ceri the other day?” She brought her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”
“Because we’re not engaged yet,” I said, keeping my voice light and airy. “And I’m not worried about Ceri. That’s the past. I’m the present. It’s really okay, Margaret.”
She slumped. “I just feel so useless in this painting. I want to do something.”
I tapped my chin. Now there was an idea. “Margaret, if we get this library up and running, would you like to work for me?”
She gasped. “A job? You would give me an actual job?”
“You could do story time for the children.” I pointedly ignored Morton shaking his head in protest. “And help find things I need around the castle. You could even teach a class or two about a topic you’re interested in.”
I wasn’t actually sure what Margaret was interested in.
Her eyes sparked with excitement, and she flipped her shiny blackhair over her shoulder. “Oh yes, I’d love that. I’m going to go right now and find some cleaning supplies! I won’t let you down!” She dashed out of the painting, disappearing.
Morton twisted his body in my direction. “Are you trying to torture me?”
I arched a brow. “I think you’re being a little hypocritical right now.”
He gasped. “What?”
“All you talked about was how I needed to leave the tower and socialize, and now here you are in a town full of people, and you won’t talk to any of them, including Margaret.”
“I can’t talk to Margaret because I can’t get a word in edgewise.”
I started ticking off my fingers. “You don’t like Margaret.”
