“Yes, so goes the legend,” Stil said.
King Toril clasped his hands behind his back and looked around the library. “No. It’s fact.”
“Indeed,” Gemma agreed.
Stil popped out from behind the bookshelf again. “How do you know?”
King Toril blinked and tipped his head. “Because King Steinar’s journal recorded it.”
Stil placed a hand against the impressive bookshelf to steady himself. “King Steinar—the little brother of the Snow Queen Rakel, the first enchantress—thatKing Steinar?”
“Yes.” King Toril said.
“You possess copies of his journal?”
“We have some copies, but I was referring to the original document,” King Toril said.
Stil sank to his knees. “You have historical documents from the Snow Queen’s time, and you did not send them to the Veneno Conclave?”
King Toril frowned. “It is our right. She was a Verglas Princess before she was the first enchantress.”
“But the historical impact! To hear first-hand of her actions—it would be a boon to the magical community.”
“The Snow Queen belongs to Verglas first,” Gemma said.
King Toril exchanged nods with her. “Hear, hear. Besides, when the school for mages was moved from Verglas centuries ago, we allowed many of our academic resources to leave with it, but it would be foolish to expect us to send everything.”
Stil mashed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I forgot how protective you people are of her. May I see this journal?”
“Certainly. A copy of it is on the shelf you were just browsing.” King Toril joined Stil at the shelf and plucked a thick volume that was discolored from the sunlight. “It was required reading for me as a child.”
Stil swiped the book from Toril’s hands and began to flip through it, his eyes skimming the pages.
Toril and Gemma watched in silence for at least half an hour before the king excused himself and left. Gemma was about to follow him—she had a new cloak she was working on for Stil—when Stil gasped.
“No!”
Gemma blinked. “What?”
Stil pulled his stunning eyes from the book. “Do you remember that wretched tower you were dumped in for the last night King Torgen ordered you to spin flax into gold?”
Gemma stifled a shiver. “Yes.”
“We must go to it—immediately!” Stil ran from the room, holding his book above his head.
Gemma folded her arms across her chest and waited.
Stil zipped back into the room. “Why didn’t you follow?”
“Because I want to know what is going on.”
“It has to deal with the Snow Queen. Please come, Gemma?” Stil asked. He moved in until he was so close, his breath stirred tendrils of her hair.
“Very well,” Gemma reluctantly agreed.
Stil gave her a smile that made her toes curl, kissed her on the lips, and slipped his hand around hers.
Gemma tieda kerchief around her hair as the spring winds tried to toss it everywhere. She followed Stil as they walked north of the castle, edged past a line of trees, and stopped outside the giant, crumbling stone tower. It stretched high above the trees, and most of the glass pane windows had been broken and were poorly boarded up.
