“Let’s start mapping,” Isa said abruptly. “What do you see in the first row?”
Twenty-Seven
Isabel
???
Mapping the archiveswas a slow, painful business. It didn’t help that Felix had turned remarkably chatty. Conversations with the duke had always been too easy, but arguing over magical theory wasn’t the same as discussing our childhoods. Or perhaps the problem was that I had given into my curiosity and asked him about Lady Cecily. Hearing him agree that he could visit a lover in Leort if he wanted had affected me more than I expected.
Especially since I was the one who suggested it in the first place. I think I had expected him to tell me he could visit an inn and find a bedmate if he needed to scratch an itch, not imply that he wanted more than that. After all, he had admitted that he had slept with Lady Cecily mostly because she was available and temporary.
The more we talked, the more his answer ate at me. I disliked imagining him with a hypothetical woman who meant more to him than a means of physical release even more than thinking about his past relationship with Cecily.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him in such situations at all. Not because he was a cat—in my imagination he was still a man, memories from when I had seen him walking through town in the past suddenly clearer than they’d ever been. The striking onyx of his hair,the same shade as his current fur, the tailored doublet that emphasized the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips, it all stood out in my mind with an intensity I wasn’t used to. I had never once sighed over a man’s smile. Now a twitch of whiskers sent my mind down avenues I’d never before explored.
The morning after we started mapping the trueness of the scrolls in the archives, I declared I needed a break. Listening to so much magic was giving me a headache. It was true—I couldn’t have said it otherwise—but it wasn’t the whole truth. I needed a little time away from Felix.
I wanted to talk to my sister. I understood why people behaved the way they did from an outsider’s perspective. Sofia was much better at understanding what was going on in the middle of social interactions. Maybe she could explain my own feelings to me, because if what I was beginning to suspect was true, I was a fool. Forgiving the duke was one thing. Liking him could even be explained away as a side-effect of living in an enchanted castle with him. But I suspected there was more than that going on.
It was a situation I was unfamiliar with.
Because of the power binding me to my contract, I couldn’t spend the rest of the morning analyzing my own feelings. I still had work to do. A curse to break. A duke to turn back into a human.
My thoughts wandered again. This time, my imagination conjured more than his physical form. I heard him clearly in my mind. His deep voice and sardonic drawl. His contrary answers and teasing questions.
Node magic constricted around me and I gasped. I really needed to talk to Sofia if I was daydreaming about Felix now. She’d understand if this was caused by the forced proximity—the unintentional intimacy of working together toward a common goal.
Rubbing at my sternum, I grabbedTheory of All Magicsfrom the table I had left it on days before. Now that we knew the node was locked to both truth-telling and reading, and that Cecily had gainedaccess to the node through Felix, perhaps the book would offer me new insights.
I snorted. Or perhaps it would at least provide a distraction from my thoughts.
Twenty-Eight
Felix
???
Isa was actingstrange. It started that morning when she complained of a headache and declared she would read more Demeret while she took a break from listening for magic. Having experienced a backlash headache after my failed attempt at truth-telling, and with a similar headache brewing after staring at the magic on the scrolls for the same amount of time as Isa, I knew that reading would not help.
Which might have explained why she opted to eat by herself, taking a true break. But then she stayed in the spire room instead of insisting we map more of the archives.
I took the hint and didn’t bother her. I retreated to my private study and tried to puzzle out more secrets about the node, hoping that there was something I had overlooked in my ancestors’ journals. A reference to the aspekts of binding. A hint at why Sebastien couldn’t reverse his father’s Truths. Anything.
I was making my way through the very sparse accounts of Daniel, Third Duke of Truthhold, when I felt the node brush against my awareness. I strummed the strand of power and sensed a stranger climbing up the hill. He wasn’t anyone I had ever tracked on castle grounds before, but that was all I knew. To learn more, I’d have to rely on mundane means of observation.
I rushed out of my suite and downstairs. With a flick of my paw, I locked the front doors, then slipped out the back, locking that door behind me. A quick check showed me that Isa was still in her spire room. I considered locking her in there, the best I could manage as a warning, but she’d probably spell open the lock and rush out rather than see it as a request for her to stay hidden.
Roses covered the area surrounding the castle. Not only the briars that blanketed the stone building, but also neatly trimmed bushes in square beds with neat stone borders. I could dart from bush to bush easily, sneaking up on my quarry without him noticing. Marc wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone about the curse, but he still could have given anyone he sent instructions on how to react if they saw a cat.
When the trespasser came into view, however, I remembered that Marc wasn’t the only person who might be interested in Rose Castle and its inhabitants. The man looked to be in his forties, with brown hair, and wearing a forest green constable’s uniform. One of Isa’s colleagues.
I debated unlocking the front door. If this was one of the men who had supported her and pushed for her to get a promotion, he was here out of worry.
I left the door locked. Talking to Isa wouldn’t banish his worry. It would only cause problems as the contract kept her from answering questions fully. And this constable looked like he had questions.
I watched him approach the front doors. He pulled a sealed letter from his pocket, then hesitated. After a few heartbeats, he shoved the letter back in his jacket pocket and tried to open the door. He didn’t knock, and when neither door budged, he moved over to the closest window.
The man behaved more like a burglar than a constable.
