The bookshelf was taller than it had looked from the floor. I felt the slither of leather and cloth against my fingers as I feltfor handholds and placed my toes onto the narrow space at the front of each shelf.
Baldbeak stayed quiet and still on his perch. He still wasn’t saying anything, although I’m sure he could see all the furious mind-pictures I was sending his way.
“Don’t you dare move, you idiot,” I hissed between my teeth, feeling about for another foothold. He was almost within reach. I stood on my tiptoes and stretched out one gloved hand. Baldbeak, apparently deciding that was quite enough adventure for the day, hopped docilely onto my arm and made his uncomfortable, scratchy way up to my shoulder. “Good boy,” I said. Now I just had to figure out how to get down.
Before I could formulate much of a plan, I heard a sound that made my Hair stand on end. Literally. I felt it lifting from my scalp, prickled and tense, like the fur along the spine of a startled cat. The library door was opening.
I panicked. I lost my balance and teetered on the edge of the shelf … and fell. Grabbing at the books without thinking, looking for a handhold, I brought several volumes down with me. Baldbeak fluttered up from my shoulder, and I landed on my tailbone, feeling the shock rattle up my spine. Baldbeak, satisfied that the danger was past, hopped back onto my shoulder with a cheerful caw.
Sitting on the floor and gritting my teeth at the pain radiating up my spine, I awaited my fate. The library door shut again, and someone was inside, but I could not make them out, as if they were made of some slippery substance that refused to give my vision any purchase.Of course.
“Patrick,” I said, certain this time.
“Are you all right?” his familiar voice inquired.
I shook my head and blinked hard, to try to make him materialize, but he did not come into focus. “Can you please stop doing that?”
“My apologies,” he said, and although he made no movement nor came any closer, something changed in my vision,and I could at last see him clearly, his hair as perfectly trimmed as always and his black clothing impeccable. The only point of color was the little winking pin at his throat.
“May I?”
He extended a hand. I regarded it for a moment, then placed my own hand in it. His was cool and dry, with long, agile fingers. He turned my wrist a little so the grotesque ring from Ban Morin caught the light.
“It’s … my engagement ring,” I explained.
“Truly remarkable,” he said, then added, “Really astonishingly ugly. It’s almost impressive.”
I was startled into a laugh.
“My congratulations,” he said. “Or condolences. Whichever seem most appropriate to you.”
I was silent, but my face gave him my answer.
“Ah,” he said. “Condolences, I see. Well, as far as I’m aware, it is illegal to marry a girl off against her will. Unless the kingdom has slipped into barbarism since last I checked.” He gave me a fleeting smile.
I got to my feet, smoothed down my skirt, and stepped back into my shoes. With the small heels on my boots, I was a hair taller than him. Baldbeak teetered on my shoulder, seeming terribly pleased with himself. I hoped he hadn’t yet relieved himself down my back—although, with the stress of the last few minutes and the tension of the current one, it was likely he had. I wished I had time to get to a mirror before going back to Milady’s drawing room.
Patrick seemed to read my mind. “Here,” he said, and withdrew a hand mirror from inside his jacket. It looked too large to have been secreted in there in the first place without spoiling the perfect line of his tailoring, but I was grateful for it.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. “You fell rather a long way.”
“No,” I said. My bottom ached, but I was hardly going to tell him that. I could see in the mirror that the Hair wasbeyond help, escaped from its braid, and I settled for tucking it behind my ears and letting it lie loose along my back. When I had tidied myself as best I could, I gave him back his mirror, and he stowed it back inside his doublet.
“Thank you,” I said, and took a deep breath, trying to regain my dignity. Baldbeak flapped his wings a little and gave a squawk.
“And what was allthatabout?” I said, turning my anger on him. “What were you doing in here? Why didn’t you come down when I called?”
Sorry, he said in a very not-sorry way.
“It’s not his fault,” said Patrick. “I asked him to come in. I had some idea of luring you in to the library so we could speak alone, but you apparently lured yourself in without my interference.”
“Youaskedhim?” Baldbeak clicked his beak in a guilty way as I turned my head to glare at him. “He cantalkto you?”
Yes, in a way, he said.Not like you. He can’t understand what I say, but I understand him.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
He asked me not to, said Baldbeak, as if that should be perfectly obvious and I was rather dim-witted for asking.
