I shove the entire tray toward her, my stomach feeling grossly full. “Have at it.” Elle eagerly grabs the leftovers and digs in, starting with the bacon, of course. “Hey, how does the librarian do her job?” I ask her. She looks at me, eyebrows tilted, mid-chew. “She’s fully blind! How does she do anything?” I elaborate.
She doesn’t respond, instead staring at me, looking utterly bewildered. She swallows her food and says, “Mae, what are you talking about? She’s not blind.”
“Yes, she is! I met her in the gardens to ask her about the tale of the First Deer Queen and her eyes were all milky, and she said she couldn’t see.”
She stares at me, eyes narrowed. “Her eyes weremilky?Are you sure you talked to the librarian? Our librarian is like fifty and wears glasses, but she’s not blind.” She grabs the blueberry muffin and begins to unwrap it.
“No, that wasn’t her,” I say quietly, a chill running through my body.
Wicked things are afoot. Evil is coming…
She sets the blueberry muffin down slowly. “Are you saying you talked to an elderly female on the grounds?”
I nod, trying to piece it together.
Elle sits up straight. “We don’t have anybody that fits that description that works here. Tell me everything about this person and what you talked about. We have to tell Ivan.”
“She was old. She had a cane, hair in a bun, and she was blind. I found her in the greenhouse, watering the planter boxes. I asked her about the tale, and she said it was true. She also said there were evil things in the castle and to be careful. It was weird, but she was old, so I didn’t think anything of it. I had my net up, and I didn’t detect any lies,” I say.
Elle shakes her head and says, “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. She probably didn’t lie to you about anything, maybe bending the truth instead to get around telling a lie. Is that all she said?”
I think back to our conversation. “Yeah…” I rack my brain, trying desperately to remember every small detail, but nothing else comes to mind.
Elle stands up from the bed and rushes to the door, toward her shoes. She sits on the ground and begins shoving her feet into the black boots as she says, “I think she was a witch. I don’t know how the fuck she got onto the grounds, but I bet that’s where the cambions came from.”
“Wouldn’t I have known if it was a witch? Don’t they have like, a black aura around them?” I fling the covers back and stand, hurriedly putting my own shoes on.
“Yes, but they use glamours,” she says, tying the laces on one boot. “They’re very skilled with magic of all kinds and can change their appearance on a dime. They’re also incredibly rare and difficult to identify. I probably wouldn’t have noticed she was a witch either.”
Both shoes on, she stands up and grabs her jacket from the chair. “I need to go update Ivan. You okay?”
She eyes the shoes on my feet and says, “No. Stay here. Please. Your wing is warded, and nobody can get in without your permission. I’ll send Barrett directly to your wing when it’s time for your date.”
I nod. “Of course, that’s fine. Thanks for breakfast.”
She nods and hurries out of my bedroom. The door slams shut behind her as she leaves the wing.
If the person I talked to yesterday really was a witch, and a witch sent the cambions to hurt me, why didn’t she just attack me yesterday? Who the hell invited her onto the grounds? Is it possible the presence of the princes and the witches is just a coincidence? Or is one of them really responsible for my father’s murder?
Chapter 23
Before my date with Barrett, I decide to ignore Elle’s request and leave my wing to check on Marik. Instead of completely rebelling, I clear it with Ivan and bring William with me, who now stands outside of the guest cottage as I enter.
Clanging comes from the kitchen, so I head there first. Asmo leans against the kitchen counter stirring a spoon in a ceramic mug, a pair of blue plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips, his pale torso on proud display. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, his hair messy and unbrushed. A black snake tattoo is inked on his chest, the tail winding its way from his left bicep, up to his shoulder, with the head settling across the right side of his chest.
He clears his throat, and my eyes snap up to his.
“Like what you see?”
Um. Yes.
“How are you?” I ask awkwardly after being caught ogling him.
“Fantastic,” he says, shooting me a sarcastic smile. Okay then. Gone is the sweet Asmo from less than twelve hours ago.
“I’m looking for Marik,” I say.
“Care for a cup of coffee?” he asks, holding out his mug to me.
