Seven - Isabel
???
Once the dukeleft, I shifted my focus to Marc. Considering how benign our conversation had been, he had resorted to skirting the truth intriguingly often. I wanted to understand why. Was he like my father, with a compulsive need to lie? Did he enjoy the challenge of pitting his wits against the truth-telling enchantment on the castle? Or did he truly have something to hide?
“Here.” Marc held out a leather-bound journal. “I’ve recorded His Grace’s discoveries in this journal. You can read it while I dig up the contract.”
I accepted the journal, keeping my expression as bland as possible. His Grace’s discoveries. I wondered what discoveries Marc had made that he hadn’t recorded. On the one hand, if the secretary had an agenda at odds with the duke’s, I wanted to wish him well. Though I might have temporarily overlooked my animosity a few times while the duke and I spoke this morning, I couldn’t forget that I was here under duress. I also couldn’t forget that, unless I found a loophole in the contract, my only chance at returning to my life was helping the duke. So if Marc knew something about the curse that he had hidden from his employer, I wanted—needed—to figure it out.
I flipped through the journal. Only about a dozen pages had been filled, so I went back to the first page and began reading.
I name you a beast. Let your nature be true. Until the day you find someone who admits their love for you in your beast form, I curse you to wear the form of the beast that matches your heart.
The duke had said he still didn’t think it was the exact wording, but it was more detailed than the version he had given me when he told me about the curse.
I looked up to find Marc watching me, a folded sheet of paper in his hands. I set down the journal. “Is that my contract?”
He handed it to me. “Yes.”
“The duke said all contracts dissolve when he passes them through the node, and a copy is made in the archives. Since the same thing happened with the curse, why can’t we find the original wording in the archives?”
“It would take years, if we were lucky. The magic that creates the scrolls also organizes them. We don’t know where it is.”
“No one has ever taken the time to inventory the archives? Wouldn’t that be helpful?”
“It would if the archives were static. Scrolls move every time the duke passes a new contract through the node. There are five hundred years’ worth of contracts to sort through.”
“Then how did you find this?” I waved the paper, which, come to think of it, wasn’t a scroll.
“That is a copy made specifically so we wouldn’t lose the contract completely. You’ll notice it is unsigned.”
I wanted to ask more, but the magic wrapped around me suddenly tightened. I pressed my free hand against my sternum, but the pressure wasn’t actually physical. Whatever the contract my father had signed said, I apparently wasn’t upholding my end. I set the paper down and picked up the journal once more. The pressure eased.
Fine. I’d focus on the curse for now, but I would be reading that contract, whether the node wanted me to or not. I’d take it with me. I could put up with a little discomfort in order to find an escape clause, but I didn’t want to do it in front of Marc.
I flipped to the next page in the journal, aware of Marc’s eyes on me as I read. I read about the Truths the earliest dukes had written, turning Rose Castle into the enchanted manor it was today. The spells stretched the known limits of magic, turning truth-telling into a power that reshaped reality around the node. Each Truth controlled a tiny aspect of life in the castle, and when invoked, it imposed its truth on the world. From the ability to summon food out of thin air, to self-lighting candles, there were dozens of spells in place meant to make living here more comfortable.
I looked up. “I get the impression that this is not a comprehensive list of Truths.”
“As far as anyone knows, the first duke never documented the Truths he created. His descendants used the Truths they knew about, but over the generations, it is likely many were forgotten. That list is the Truths Duke Felix is aware of.”
“And their limitations,” I muttered, looking over the pages once more. Limitations like a full pot of tea being served with four cups. Meals could be conjured in an instant, but the ingredients had to be on castle grounds, and only certain recipes. I pretended to read a little more, waiting until Marc relaxed back in his seat before asking my next question. “What other Truths are you aware of?”
The secretary stiffened, and I fought back a smirk. He really thought he had gotten away with skirting the truth. As if I wouldn’t pick up that it was only the Truths Felix was aware of listed in the journal.
Marc paused long enough that it didn’t take any truth-reading to know he intended some sort of deceit with his eventual answer. “There is a Truth that gives the duke limited control of the weather.”
I considered whether or not I should push for more. That wasn’t the only Truth Marc knew that wasn’t listed in the journal. But I wasn’t my sister, with the ability to force him to talk. Better to let him think he had succeeded in fooling me. It meant he wouldn’t expect it when I next sprang a question on him.
I finished reading the journal, agreeing with the conclusion on the final page that Lady Cecily”s curse was most likely a variation on a Truth rather than the more typical magically binding contract. Nowhere in the journal, however, did it explain how she might have gained access to a locked node.
Snapping the book closed, I realized that there was more at stake than one man getting stuck in the form of a cat. “The Node Wars ended what, four centuries ago?”
Marc leaned back. “Closer to five.”
“And in all that time, there has never been even a hint of someone bypassing a blood-lock?”
I knew the answer. No one could undo a blood-lock. The discovery of the technique used to keep other mages from accessing a node’s power had ended the Node Wars. If one had come unlocked since then, a new wave of battles to control the pools of raw magic would have soon followed.
“Not even a whisper,” Marc confirmed. “No one has even managed to touch the Persipilo Node, and that bloodline died out over two centuries ago.”
The duke’s paranoia—sending everyone away, his shady methods of securing help from a mage while ensuring she could say nothing about what she learned—made sense now. If anyone discovered that a blood-lock had weakened, let alone the lock on this node, that boded far worse than people discovering that a duke had been cursed.
Perhaps his motives weren’t as selfish as I had thought. Though that didn’t make his conduct admirable.
I rearranged my thoughts, slotting in this new theory. The duke’s actions implied he didn’t believe Lady Cecily had accessed the node through such a benign fluke as having a distant connection to the Truthholder bloodline. I might have my doubts about his intelligence, but I didn’t think he’d have missed such an obvious explanation.
Then again, assuming he had the same thought process as me was dangerous. I tapped my finger against the leather-bound journal. “Is there a chance Lady Cecily is a relation of the Truthholder family? Any sign she could access the node when she first arrived at Rose Castle?”
“You’ll have to ask His Grace those questions. Unless we are a member of the team working on a contract, secretaries rarely interact with the guests at Truthhold.”
My magic chimed with the rapid melody of an evasion. Marc’s attempt to mislead me only put new thoughts in my head. I wouldn’t have assumed he had ever spoken with Cecily before he made it a point to tell me how unlikely such an occurrence would be. He really didn’t understand the nuances of my power—few people did.
I waved my hand through the air, dismissing the secretary’s suggestion that I ask His Grace—though I would. “From what I understand, Lady Cecily was trying to convince His Grace to marry her. I’m certain there was plenty of gossip flying around while she was visiting.” I paused, carefully picking how to phrase my question. “From everything you knew of her, was there any chance she could access the node when she first came to Truthhold?”
“No.” Marc stood. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
I rose, my mind spinning. That “no” rang with the clarity of a fact, not opinion. Marc knew beyond a doubt that Lady Cecily hadn’t always been able to access the node. I needed to consider what that meant before I questioned him further. I needed a better understanding of how nodes worked before I’d even know what questions to ask.
“Does the castle have a library?” I asked, picking up the copy of my father’s contract.
Marc was already walking away, his answer curt. “Southeast tower.”
???
I made myway to the southeast tower in a daze. The magic tying me to the terms of the contract rubbed against my skin, irritating but not constricting. The node must be as unsure as I about what my next steps should be.
Would the duke believe me if I told him the secretary who had been helping him for the past two months was working against him? I didn’t even know if it was true. Certainly Marc was hiding things, but it didn’t necessarily follow that he was undermining the duke’s attempts to break the curse. Were his choices limited by a contract like mine? If so, even if he was working against His Grace, he couldn’t do much damage.
But not much wasn’t nothing. Underhanded tactics that I might otherwise applaud as the duke’s just deserts could slow down my efforts. I either needed to find a loophole to free myself or get to the bottom of Marc’s speciousness.
I reached the room that led to the southeast tower on the main floor and was momentarily distracted from my questions. Everything was blue. The settee was upholstered in navy velvet. The side tables were coated in cerulean varnish. The rug muffling my footsteps was swirls of sapphire and azure and more shades I couldn’t name. My jaw sagged as I took it all in.
I sank onto the settee. I looked around, unsurprised to spot a porcelain clock—white with cobalt designs—in the center of the mantlepiece. It was barely mid-morning. If I could leave now, I’d be home by sunset. I could explain away a two-day disappearance, but how many more days would it be until I was free of Rose Castle?
Would Chief Nassan even listen to any excuse I made? I snorted; I knew the answer to that question. The chief constable would love a pretext to continue ignoring my skills. It was getting harder for him to justify putting “probationary” in front of my rank. Most constables never even went through a probationary period, but I had been saddled with that title for nearly five years. It was a convenient method for the constabulary to circumvent the laws granting women the same rights as men.
An extended, unplanned absence would give the chief all the reason he needed to continue dismissing my skills. Or possibly to dismiss me from his employ altogether.
I might not know where to begin to break a curse, but that wasn’t my only option to get home.
Unfolding the contract in my hand, I began to read. I barely made it past the introductory clauses before the node power wrapped around me shifted from irritating to painful. I tried to ignore it, but the longer I tried to read, the more the magic constricted until my focus splintered. Such a distraction might prevent me from identifying a loophole in the terms imprisoning me at Truthhold.
I refolded the contract and stuffed it into my pocket. If all else failed, I’d ask the duke to review it with me; the node didn’t seem to tug at me when I was with him.
Until then, however, I needed to turn my attention back to breaking the curse. Lady Cecily hadn’t been able to access the node when she first visited Rose Castle. Though she had left Truthhold for weeks before cursing the duke, she had most likely gained her tie to the node during that first visit. Could she be pregnant? Would a child with a blood-tie grant the mother access to the node?
I had too many questions and no answers.
I glanced at the doors to the library. Pale wood, with no paint, varnish, or any hints of blue, they cut across the corner where the two outer walls should have met and stretched straight to the ceiling. Blooming vines almost leapt from their surface, carved in perfect detail. Copper handles bulged from each in the form of giant leaves that curved back toward the door where they tapered.
I wanted to see what lay beyond, and certainly a library had a chance of containing the answers I needed. Books would be safer to seek out than the duke; their words would be straightforward. I stood up and walked toward the doors. The node power didn’t tighten around me.
I tugged on one copper handle. The door swung open without a sound.
Except for where the doors stood, the perimeter of the library formed a perfect circle. The shelves lining the walls curved to match. I stepped inside, the scent of leather and old paper enveloping me as the door swung closed.
Marc had told me the library was in the tower, but I hadn’t expected it to extend beyond a single floor. I looked up. And up.
A spiral staircase in the center of the room led to landings at the second and third stories. Narrow walkways jutted out from the edge of the room at each floor, with a single path leading to the staircase. Most of the space was completely open. At the fourth floor, the stairs spiraled up to a small hole in the ceiling—no landing, no trapdoor.
I climbed the stairs, marveling at the sheer number of books visible with every revolution, but too curious about what was on the hidden level to stop and inspect any. When my head came even with the floor of the top level, I noticed the plush carpet first. It looked soft enough to sleep on. I climbed two more steps, my upper body now in the top tower room, and patted the carpet. Definitely soft enough to sleep on. Climbing the final steps, I took in the room as a whole and fell in love.
My suite in the castle lacked for nothing, but left me feeling shabby, inadequate, and overcrowded. This room outshone my guest room to the same degree the suite outshone the townhouse I shared with Sofia and our father. Instead of inadequacy, though, I felt envy for the first time since entering the castle. This room combined the simple elegance of the dining room with the opulence of the blue salon to create a sumptuous, yet tasteful, whole.
The furnishings showed no sign of wear, cushions as plump as if never used, candles with untouched wicks, velvet upholstery without the nap rubbed thin. Everything was in simple earth tones, from rust red to chestnut to beige, giving the space a warm, welcoming feeling. In this space, I didn’t even mind the mahogany clock sitting on one table.
Then I noticed the ceiling, and love was no longer strong enough to describe how I felt about the room.
I stood in the apex of the tower, where it tapered to a point. But instead of stone rising overhead, a cone of glass topped the room. The roses that covered the entire building trailed over the glass in a living curtain. Sunlight cast hints of pink and green over everything as it shone through petals and leaves.
A crick in my neck forced me to stop admiring the kaleidoscope of roses, and I made my way to a door that led to the balcony encircling the spire room. A waist-high wall of carved stone latticework enclosed the area. Seven columns extended up from the balustrade to support the eaves of the glass roof, which extended over the balcony as well.
Wonder had allowed me to ignore the pull of node power up to this point, but the longer I marveled, the stronger it became. This time there was a sense of direction, a tug leading me back toward the tower room even as it tightened like a noose around my chest.
With a sigh, I went down to the third floor of the tower. The pull faded, but the magic was still a vise around me, slowly easing as I made my way over to the bookshelves. The same stone lattice as on the balcony bordered the walkway from the stairs to the books and the ledge around the perimeter of the room. I trailed my hand over the books, wondering where to start. There had to be thousands on this floor alone.
The answer to every question ever asked must be available somewhere on the pages in this room. The trick would be finding the answers I needed.
I’d start with books on magic. Anything about the Node Wars would be potentially useful, but I’d also take biographies of mages with node-ties. Or really anything that described the natural flow of power throughout the world.
Ley lines crossed the land in every direction. The magical rivers flowed into nodes, absorbing and emitting minuscule amounts of power as they went. Where ley lines met, the power gathered in one place with relative stability, even with more power constantly pouring in. Spells that would be impossible with only a mage’s reserves, and dangerous if cast using the volatile ley lines, were possible when a mage tapped into the power of a node. But ever since the wars ended, the nodes had all been locked, so only mages of certain bloodlines had access.
That was all I knew about nodes. If I wanted to understand how Lady Cecily cursed Felix, I needed to know something more than what every child learned in school. The little I knew certainly didn’t help me. Even for an enchanted castle, nothing made sense. Perhaps a pregnancy explained Cecily’s node-tie, but it didn’t account for how truth-telling magic could be used to truth-read written statements. It didn’t explain how the duke could lie while at Truthhold, when the node’s power blocked anyone else from doing the same.
I scanned the bookcase in front of me, hoping to find books that might help me make sense of all the impossible things happening at Rose Castle. The first shelf held a collection of gothic novels, with a lone volume of poetry at one end. The next had a few more gothic novels, a handful of adventure stories that made my fingers itch, and a treatise on medicine. I mentally marked the location of the novels that called to me, wondering if there would ever be a moment I could open one. Given that I couldn’t even read the contract binding me in peace, I doubted it.
I scanned a few more shelves and found much the same thing in each bookcase. For the most part, the shelves contained novels, though no more than a dozen of any genre seemed to be grouped together. Then the books would switch to a different genre, only for the first to reappear on another shelf. Interspersed at random intervals throughout, I found the oddest things: another book of poems, a biography of King Ranaski IV of Gostet, a gigantic tome written in an alphabet I didn’t recognize.
This library could very well contain the information I needed, but I’d have to look at every single book to be sure.
“Now would be a great time for a little direction,” I muttered, rubbing at my sternum. The magic had loosened around me. I knew it was there, but could easily ignore it. There was no pull directing me to the book I needed. The power could prevent me from becoming distracted from my goal, but not guide me to a solution.
I took it as a positive sign that the magic no longer pinched. Searching the library counted as fulfilling the terms of my contract, so I had to hope that meant the answers I needed might be here. Since I was mostly finding novels on this level, I decided to check the other floors before starting a systematic hunt for histories and biographies. I walked down the spiral staircase, returning to the ground floor.
The volumes there proved more promising. I took my time looking over each shelf. Treatises on topics from animal husbandry to millinery dominated the shelves, but several biographies and histories popped up in between the rest. I wanted to map out what I was seeing and untangle the mystery of how the books were sorted, but that wasn’t my purpose.
Hunger distracted me when I was only about halfway around the room. I had found a few books that might be worth a closer look, but nothing quite matching what I wanted. I still hadn’t even the faintest notion of how the books were organized.
With a groan, I arched my back, stretching out the kinks from bending over while I tried to read the spines of the books on the lowest shelves. I had to eat. Surely the node respected such a basic need and wouldn’t punish me for not continuing my hunt.
I patted my pocket, the paper within crinkling. If I was lucky, I could even read over the terms of my imprisonment at the same time.