“And no one minds?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“Oh, don’t worry. As the third daughter, I was largely ignored. I didn’t even think I would have children before—” She breaks off, her fingers stiffening around the warped spine of a book as the ghosts of her sisters drift past. “After Cordelia and Seraphina…when it was just me, I made sure to be caught for plenty of other offenses. Sneaking out of my window or the front doors of my chambers. Putting on ridiculous disguises.” The fluidity returns to her shoulders. “Anything to distract my guards and masters from what I’m really doing.”
“Which is coming here.”
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“It’s just”—I struggle to keep my face serious—“when I think of a princess sneaking out of her rooms, trips to an ancient wing of the palace don’t exactly come to mind. Unless…”
“Unless I’m meeting a lover.”
My cheeks heat and I become fascinated with the nearest book, unsure why the idea of the princess trysting makes me so bashful. “That.”
“Well, as you can probably guess, it’s not that.” She taps at the place where her curse mark rests under her sleeve. “My curse is quite intact, as you must have noticed.”
“A lover wouldn’t have to be your true love,” I say, surprising myself.
“You sly thing.” She shoves my shoulder gently. “Don’t you think I’ve endured enough kisses from strangers?”
“Of course you have,” I say quickly. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”
She bats the air. “Enough of that. I’m Aurora to you.”
“Aurora.” The syllables are full and bright on my tongue, tasting of summer berries and fizzy wine. My heart stutters. “Have you found anything interesting, at least?”
“Oh, yes.” She flops onto a divan. Dust erupts from the faded blue silk and glitters in the shafts of moonlight. “All kinds of texts on the realm’s old history. I don’t know why the masters didn’t care more about this place. There should be a historian in here, keeping track of things.”
“Old history? Like Leythana?”
She sits up straight. “You’re interested in Leythana as well?”
“Who wouldn’t be? A queen who earned her crown by right, not just inheriting it like some lazy—” I realize my mistake too late and skid to a stop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“No.” She rises and moves to a column, tracing tiny diamond-shaped patterns in the gritty surface with a fingertip. “I know exactly what you mean. And I agree.”
“You do?”
“In fact, that’s why I’m here. In a way. I want to be like Leythana. Not just an ornament, as my mother is. I want to be fierce and worthy.” She pauses, looking as though she’s debating whether to continue. And then the next words come out in a breathless whoosh. “And so I come here at night to try to find something to break the curse.”
I’m certain from the way she worries with the edge of her sleeve that this is the first time she’s spoken her dreams aloud to anyone.
“You want to break the curse,” I repeat slowly. “Without your true love?”
“Yes.” Those violet eyes shine. “I want to earn my crown myself. Not hand it over to the first man who kisses me correctly.” But then her shoulders hunch. “You must think me a fool.”
“Not at all. I admire you. You’re nothing like…” I grapple for the right words, but they swish through my mind, slippery as eels. “What I thought.”
Her smile rivals the starlight. “I take that as an extreme compliment.”
“It is.” An inexplicable shyness nips at me and I fumble for a distraction. “Have you made any progress?”
“Not much,” she admits. “I’ve been poking around in volumes about the War of the Fae. Especially those about Vila. If any creature knew how to break the curse, it was them.”
A chill rumbles through me. My ancestors. Aurora doesn’t notice my sudden interest in a cracked magnifying glass I find on a side table. She glides away into the shadows. The light from the candle bobs and I can hear her mumbling to herself as she hunts.
“What are you doing?”
Instead of answering me, she reemerges with a huge black book tucked under one arm. Streaks of dust and dirt darken the hem of her nightdress and there’s a smudge of something gray on her face. An insane part of me wants to wipe it away. “This one’s in passable condition.”