Page 46 of A Castle of Broken Memories

“Is that…” Jack’s arm brushed mine as he stepped beside me. “…Harp?”

I glanced down at the picture he was pointing to. Its bright colors and wobbly lines looked to be done with finger paints, but there was no mistaking Harp’s golden form. Pink and red hearts decorated the background, along with a chain of light blue music notes. “Seems the young giant prince was fond of bunnies and music.”

“And toys,” Jack remarked dryly, looking around the cluttered room.

“And toys.” I ran a hand over the polished wood of a nearby rocking horse that could have easily seated a full-sized adult. My fingers curled over the curved arc of the horse’s graceful tail, my throat tightening. How can something so beautiful exist among all this chaos without being ruined?

And there, in the quiet stillness of that over-stuffed room, with the fate of my friends unknown and the man I’d once loved above all others a hands-breadth away, the armor I’d spent a decade crafting simply… cracked.

It started somewhere in the vicinity of my navel and traveled upward until my entire chest felt as if it’d been ripped open. Deep, racking sobs worked their way up from the rubble, searing my throat and blurring my eyes. Each wave was a punch to the gut, and I bowed forward, nails scraping at the horse’s wooden flank while I sank to my knees on the lush, blue carpet.

I didn’t look up when Jack lowered himself beside me, not even when his strong arm wrapped gently around my shoulders. I merely squeezed my eyes shut against the tears and leaned into his warmth, whispering, “What are we going to do?”

Jack smoothed my hair back, lips brushing my forehead as he drew me closer. “Whatever we have to.”

I swallowed. “I was so sure it would work.”

“It was a good plan.”

“I brought the entire room down on our heads. I almost got us killed.” I choked on a sob. “Maybe I did. Calum…”

“Is a werewolf and will heal in no time. He knew what he was doing,” Jack interjected. “We all did. It just didn’t pan out the way we’d hoped.”

I sniffled into his vest, too overwhelmed to feel self-conscious about the snot that was no doubt streaming from my nose. “You make it sound as if there’ll be a next time.”

“Well, why not? You didn’t lose your spell brushes, did you?”

“No…”

“So, we’ll find another avenue to try. A different vessel, maybe.”

I shook my head. “If all we needed was an artifact, the decanter would have worked. I need to know more about the original curse.”

“All right, then that’s what we’ll focus on.” Jack gave my shoulders a squeeze before releasing his hold and standing up. “Starting right here.”

I blinked up at him, the tears slowly drying while I took in the confident set of his jaw, the way he surveyed the cluttered room as if it truly might have the answers they required. Like he truly believed I was strong enough to break this curse.

A whisper of light eased into my chest, lifting me to my feet. Jack nodded his approval before bending down and picking up a bent trumpet. He held it up, peering inside its flared bell with an expression of intense interest. As if there might be some kind of clue etched along its brassy innards.

My lips curved into a smile, and I picked up a large, stuffed animal and pretended to examine it. “What secrets are you hiding, bear? Spill, or it’s pincushions for you.”

Jack chucked a red and green ball at my head. “I’m being serious over here.”

“So am I.” I pursed my lips as I plucked an elephant-shaped music box off one of the shelves lining the wall. “Very suspicious.”

“That’s it,” Jack retorted, grabbing a large, fluffy pillow from off the bed. “You asked for it.”

I held up my hands while he prowled toward me with the makeshift weapon. “Hey now. This is serious. We’re supposed to be looking for clues.”

He smirked as he backed me into a corner, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes. “Here’s a clue for you—duck!”

I dipped below the stuffed silk a second before it would have whacked me in the head, and scooted around Jack’s side. Keeping one eye on the pillow in his hand, I scanned the room for more.

Jack waggled his eyebrows as he stepped over a wooden train set. “Running away?”

I stuck my tongue out like the mature, thirty-year-old werewolf that I was. “I’m merely assessing the situation before I beat you senseless, pretty boy.”

Jack’s grin widened. “So you admit I’m pretty?”