Chapter Nineteen
AFTER MY HEART-TO-HEART WITH SEBASTIAN this afternoon, urgency and guilt weigh heavily on me as I pull out the mirror to begin my search for the Grimoricon. If Sebastian must choose a bride by the new moon, I have only a few weeks to find the second and third relics for Mordeus and get Jas back.
My eyes flick to the locked door for the tenth time before I lift the mirror and stare at my reflection. “Show me the Grimoricon,” I say, careful not to speak too loudly.
The mirror shows me a grand, brightly lit library unlike any I’ve seen before. It’s massive, with a domed stained-glass ceiling and row upon row of books fanning out from a dais in the center of the room. There, on that dais, a pedestal holds a thick leather-bound book.
When the image fades, I ask again, and it shows me the same thing.
Why is the queen hiding the sacred book in a library? If it were in the stacks, I might think this was a case of hiding the book in plain sight, but it’s right there, on display, the centerpiece of the room.
I tuck the mirror away and ring the bell by my door to call for my maids. I’ve searched every inch of this palace and have never seen a room like the one I saw in the mirror. Maybe it’s hidden, or maybe the library lies within the queen’s well-guarded sunroom. It would make sense for such a valuable item, but it makes this all the more complicated for me.
“Lady Abriella,” Emmaline says, curtsying as she steps into the room. “What can we do for you tonight?”
I never call for them, so the surprise on her face is expected.
“The prince told me there are some special festivities tonight.”
“Yes, milady. Tonight we celebrate Litha.”
“I would like to go. Would you help me dress?”
Emmaline blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. In my two and a half weeks here, I’ve never cared about the seemingly endless dances happening around the castle. I go only when I’m required, and I’m usually so full of excuses that the twins have stopped trying to convince me otherwise. “Of course. I’m so sorry. We should have asked.”
I wave off her apology. “I only decided moments ago.” She beams, and I force myself to return her smile. “I suddenly feel like dancing.”
I wasted time with the mirror, but I won’t make the same mistake again. I can’t afford to. I will lock my guilt away tight and get whatever information I can out of Sebastian. And if he hates me forever once he learns how I used him . . . well, if that’s the price of saving Jas, it’s one I’m willing to pay.
* * *
By the time my maids dress me in a bell-sleeved gown of lightest purple and pin my hair into ringlets atop my head, the music and revelry are so loud, I can easily follow the noise to the celebration on the palace lawn.
I exit the palace and stop at the top of the stairs, awestruck by the sight below.
Litha, I learned from my maids, is a celebration lasting from dusk to dawn the night before summer solstice. Bonfires are lit all around the castle to honor the sun and bring in the longest day of the year. Smaller celebrations like this happen in the human realm, but I never bothered about them or understood why the masses would celebrate blessings in a world that seems to bless so few. But under the cool glow of the crescent moon, with food and wine aplenty and so much music and laughter, I can almost understand the need for such a spectacle of gratitude.
Slowly I descend the castle steps and venture onto the lawn. The fires are massive, with heat rolling off them. Just as a fine sweat breaks out on my brow, a server thrusts a cold glass of wine into my hand and walks away before I can decline.
“You came,” Sebastian says softly behind me.
Tensing, I turn to him, all too aware of the hurt I caused him earlier. “I can go back to my rooms if you want.”
“I’m pretty sure my problem lies in the fact that I don’t want that at all.” He looks me over slowly. “Though it seems you’re bent on torturing me with your beauty.” There’s no bite to the words, and he’s smiling when he meets my eyes again. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you’re glad.” I look him over and swallow. He’s not the only one feeling tortured. His white hair is swept back, tied at the base of his neck, and his golden tunic makes his shoulders look impossibly broad. My gaze dips for a beat, but I don’t dare let myself linger on the sight of his powerful thighs in his leather pants.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I had no right to—”
“No. I’m sorry,” I say. And it’s true. It might not change how I feel or what I must do, but I hate hurting him. Hate knowing that what I’m doing now will hurt him more. “I know I came here with prejudices, and I see now how unfair they were. I’m realizing that Faerie isn’t exactly what I thought it was.”