“Oh, are you acquainted? She’s had a residency since she was a postgraduate student. Not that I see her much—she’s forever off traveling around the kingdom for her research projects. But she’s an expert on exotic flora and has written extremely detailed papers on dark curses, including those similar to the prince’s. I recommend you speak with her. You can find her in the northwest tower. Just knock on the door; she should be in.”
“Hang on—she wrote about curses?” Will asks. “Shesubmittedthose papers to the archives?”
“Yes, I’ve read a few myself. They were very intriguing. Most of them center around a spoiled spell that corrupted over time into dark magic. Apparently it can manifest through generations. She certainly sees all sorts of things on her travels.”
I feel like I’ve been plunged into the ground.
She wrote aboutme.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Will says, his jaw taut with a rare anger. “Considering she was the one to cast it.”
Keeper Einar’s eyebrows disappear.
“Willoh. That…That is a very serious accusation. The use of dark magic is strictly forbidden to any who wish to stay here. I admit, Lady Morgana can sometimes be…vigorous in her approaches, but she’s supplied this library with keen research.”
“It’s the truth.” He spits it in such a way that I have to strain tokeep my lips from wobbling. “Never mind. We don’t have time. Fliss, let’s go.”
I take Will’s hand and use him to find my balance.
The Keeper of the Library doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that Morgana cast her spell on my parents and passed it down to me. The person with the highest possible position in the most knowledgeable place in all of Calladoesn’t know.All this time, she’s been benefiting from research and academic papers about me. My curse. My life. While I carried the weight of it.
“Sir, thank you for your help,” Will says politely, and grips the back of my coat.
Their further farewells sail past my ears as I follow Will blindly to the exit. The queen and Morgana. Hand in hand, like Mum said. Did the queen feed Morgana details about me? Were those chats the queen and I had in her chambers another ground for Morgana to snoop, to dig for data? I’ve long been the queen’s tool. Her snitch. Now I find out that I’m also a test subject in an archived paper that anyone can read.
The door to the office closes behind us, and Will looks at me sharply. The marble at our feet swirls, waiting.
“Where to, Fliss? What do you want to do?”
She’s here. She’s caused too much harm already. She’s hidden in the shadows and laughed at our misfortune. We have to stop her. She can’t make it to the wedding. If we cut her off here, if we get the truth out of her now, we can avoid taking the fight to the citadel.
The silver marble sharpens toward our next destination: toward the northwest tower, toward Morgana, the sorcerer who cursed me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The bookshelves and sparkles stop suddenly in front of an enclosed spiral staircase. Gray-stone steps lie ahead, illuminated by intricate black torches of magical firelight. The air is quiet and dry here, like it’s not permitted to breathe.
“Up we go,” Will says.
I follow him with growing anxiety as the homely mumbles of the library fade farther and farther away. My entire life I’ve tried to shoulder the burden Morgana gave me, and sometimes, I managed. Sometimes, there was a lull. I was able to blindly make it through the day without torment—days when I made bouquets and didn’t squabble with my mum, when Card and I took long walks in the countryside and I could unwind. I could relax. I could stay silent.
Then I’d turn a corner, hit a step, be dragged into a conversation, and the heaviness would slam me into submission. No matter what, the truth was always needed. People were always telling lies that needed my verification. The queen was always calling me. I was constantly reminded that I’m trapped. I’m cursed. That tight pinch in my throat will always be there. And the person at fault is right up these stairs.
After passing a few other chambers, we stop at a mahogany door with black gemstones embossed in the surface. Will inspects a large gargoyle door handle beside a nameplate with Morgana’s name on it.
“Einar said to just…knock, right? I mean, should we go in with some kind of plan?” he asks.
My teeth have begun chattering so all I can do is nod for him to go ahead. I can barely hear my own thoughts, let alone scramble together a strategy. I’ve spent my life imagining Morgana as a clouded mystery. Whatever woman waits behind these doors is inconceivable.
Will raps against the wood.
There’s no call from the other side, no sign of life.
“Uh, okay. Maybe we just…?” He shapes his hands into a sphere like he’s preparing to use a spell. “If she’s not here, we could see if she’s left anything behind?”
“Trap?” I manage to say.
“Good point.”
