Eleven - Felix
???
I should havepaid better attention to my path as I wandered the archives. The last time I had memorized the maze, I had been sixteen. I knew better than to assume that meant I could still navigate my way through. Even if only a single new shelf had been added in all the years since, the entire layout could have shifted. As, indeed, it had.
Still, I should be able to find my way out even without a map.
“The archives aren’t that large.” I told Isa when she offered to rescue me. “I can find the exit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I’d have to learn the route eventually. I could no longer trust Marc, so I had to find a way to explore the scrolls down here myself. My experiment today had not been a resounding success. Getting any scrolls out of their cubbyholes was difficult if they weren’t close to the ground. I had to jump up, catch myself on the shelves, and bat the others out. Not having been born a cat, I lacked their natural grace.
I looked up, my back half sinking down without my conscious thought. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’ll get no argument here, but is there a particular reason to mention the fact now?”
My whiskers twitched. I hadn’t meant for Isa to hear my comment, but her response was worth it. I barely knew her, but I’d miss her when she returned to Leort. Around her, I didn’t have to put on an act. “The shelves don’t reach the ceiling. I’m a cat. I can scale them and walk across the top.”
“Well then, do it already.”
I sank onto my haunches and leapt. I didn’t reach the top, but my paws caught on the shelves, and I scrambled the rest of the way up. Several scrolls ended up kicked out of their niches. I peered down at the floor. It seemed climbing the shelves was more effective than purposefully trying to pull scrolls out.
Isa’s voice carried over the shelves. “Are you all right?”
“The only casualties were scrolls. Not that they can truly count as casualties. They’ll be back in their spots as if nothing had happened in a few minutes.”
“Playtime as a child must have been truly frustrating if your toys disappeared every few minutes.”
I made my way across the shelves towards the main room. I still had to follow the maze—I didn’t trust myself not to slide right off a shelf if I jumped over a gap—but at least I could see the path from up here. “There’s a playroom immune to the tidying enchantment. Sebastien Truthhold recognized his children’s frustrations and asked his father to tweak the original spell.”
I reached the final stretch of the archives, and Isa spotted me. She fell into step below me, walking to the exit. “Was his father the first duke, or did many of your ancestors contribute to the enchantments?”
“As far as I know, only Duke Valois and his heir, Sebastien, made Truths. Sebastien’s journals indicated that his children could not use the node that way, but never explained why.”
Isa paused a few steps into the main room, turning back to face me. She raised a brow. “Are you coming?”
I looked down at the floor. Not that great a distance, until I remembered that I was about a sixth of my former height.
One hand flew up to cover Isa’s mouth, doing nothing to muffle her giggle. “Scared to jump? Don’t worry, I’ll save you.”
She stepped forward, reaching up. She was short, her hands just reaching high enough to grab me under my front legs. I could have evaded her grip. I wasn’t scared to jump down, but I knew my landing wouldn’t improve the image Isa had of me. Letting her carry me couldn’t be worse, and it at least ensured I wouldn’t injure myself.
She held me against her body for a moment, her fingers brushing through my fur. Then she plopped me on the nearest desk.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick.
“Ooh, it hurts your pride to accept help, doesn’t it?”
That wasn’t the issue, but I didn’t plan to correct her assumption. My attraction to Isa was something best ignored. If I weren’t cursed, I’d take her hatred as a challenge. There were moments when she forgot why she hated me and simply enjoyed arguing with me. If I were a man, those arguments could lead somewhere.
But I was a cat. Nothing more than a fluffy annoyance in Isa’s eyes.
Moreover, our time together would be short. Soon, she’d return to Leort. I’d probably end my days as a hermit in my own castle, endlessly searching for a way to break my curse and lamenting the fact that I had let her go.
I thought about the contract I had asked Marc to bring to Leort. It was late enough in the day that the secretary should have reached the town. Riding, it was possible to make the trip to and from Leort in a single day. Since Marc had several errands to take care of in town, he wouldn’t return until late tomorrow. Then, I’d witness the contract, pass it through the node, and say farewell to Isabel Cardh.
“You said I summoned you to the archives?”
She pulled out the chair behind the desk and sat. “Yes. I needed a break from reading Demeret, and when I put the book down, I could feel the node power pulling me here. Given the terms of our contract, I assume you had a task you wanted my help with. What were you doing in the archives?”
“I was seeing how hard it is to do the job I had set Marc on my own. If I summoned you, it wasn’t a conscious decision.” I had been thinking about how much I wished Isa could stay and help me, though. If I had to be stranded at Rose Castle with only a single person for company, I’d much rather her than Marc. And that had nothing to do with the effectiveness of their respective contracts.
I had to let her go, however. She was right; no matter the technicalities of the law, what I had done to get her here was wrong.
“You want contracts with a single signature, right?” She looked over at the archives, then closed her eyes.
I nodded, but she didn’t see. “Yes. That’s what I have Marc searching for.”
She hummed under her breath. “There is so much magic in the archives. I wonder if the sorting system has something to do with the timbre of the magic on the scrolls.” Her eyes opened. “I can hunt through the archives when I need a break from Demeret. First, though, I want a map. Do you think you can sketch one out for me if I put you back on the shelves?”
???
I shouldn’t havespent the afternoon mapping the archives with Isa. If she stayed, it would be helpful, but she wouldn’t be staying. I should have told her about the contract I had asked Marc to deliver to her father. But until the secretary returned with it, signed by her father, it wasn’t worth getting her hopes up. She was still bound by the old contract until I passed the new one through the node.
I enjoyed mapping the archives, however. Isa and I had argued over distances and angles with every line drawn on the paper, but there hadn’t been any true heat in our words. When we finished and returned upstairs for supper, Isa’s mood was cheery enough that I actually harbored a hope that she might forgive me once I showed her the new contract I had sent Edwin.
We sat at the table in the dining room, and I reached out to pluck the strands of node power that would call in our supper.
“Wait.” Isa placed her hand on my paw, halting its movement. “How do you call in food? Your notes mentioned a trigger phrase for the enchantment, but I’ve never heard you say anything.”
“Because the phrases Duke Valois chose are a mouthful. Also, it is often preferable not to have everyone within listening distance learn the trigger phrases.” I wrinkled my nose. Marc knew how to summon his own food. It had made sense to teach him the trigger once we were alone. I should have explained this to Isa the first night. “Let there be on this table nourishment in the form of roast chicken.”
A platter with a delicious looking roast chicken materialized on the table.
Isa pursed her lips for a moment. “Let there be on this table nourishment in the form of plums.”
Nothing happened.
I laughed at the way Isa’s eyebrows drew together. She looked insulted that the magic hadn’t obeyed her.
“That phrase only works for foods prepared according to the recipes in a certain cookbook.” I plucked a strand of node power and the book in question appeared at Isa’s elbow. “To get something like a plum, you would use the general summoning phrase.”
I hadn’t taught this one to Marc. He could walk into the kitchen and get his own fruit. He didn’t need to know how to summon any item in the castle to his hand. Since it didn’t work on the scrolls in the archives anyway, it was hardly a spell he needed access to.
Isa wouldn’t be in the castle much longer. She didn’t need to know either. She would soon leave and be unable to use the enchantment. I flexed my claws, debating telling her the incantation.
Her expression morphed, becoming thoughtful. She held out a hand, palm up. “Let there be in my hand the item of a single plum.”
The plump purple fruit appeared in her palm. She looked over at me and grinned. “That will be useful.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she figured it out so easily. But if she worked it out on the first try, then what were the odds Marc hadn’t figured the invocation out over the course of months? Allowing him that power made me nervous, especially if he had made an effort not to let on that he could use that Truth.
I would have to make some hard decisions regarding Marc soon. But not yet. Tonight, I wanted to forget about curses and contracts. I wanted to focus on keeping that grin on Isa’s face.
I tried to picture the storerooms of the castle, full to bursting with forgotten items. What would Isa appreciate, but never think to call in herself? I flicked another strand of power. “The enchantment is very handy.”
Isa studied the yellow silk now draped over the edge of the chair next to her. The gown was old-fashioned, but still a work of art, the type of dress that a woman dreamed of, picturing herself dancing with a prince at a ball.
But I had forgotten that Isa wasn’t like most of the women I knew. She didn’t sigh in pleasure and reach out to touch the gown. She frowned. “The castle can sew as well as cook?”
She cared about the practical. Isa had no use for a ballgown, but she would probably appreciate a larger wardrobe of everyday items while she was in the castle. I sighed. “There are mending and cleaning enchantments for clothes, but as far as I know there is not a Truth to create brand new garments. That dress was stored upstairs.”
Isa glanced down at herself. “I noticed that my skirt was clean when I pulled it out this morning, despite all the dust it had picked up on my walk to Truthhold. Good to know that I’ll never have to wash it.”
“If there is anything you need that the castle doesn’t provide automatically, please let me know so I can address the issue.”
Isa gestured at the cookbook. “I have food, a bed, and clean clothes. I think my basic needs have been met. However, I still have plenty of questions about how the node works. You never actually explained how you summon food without speaking the invocation.”
I wanted her to ask for something beyond her basic needs. Providing something extravagant might allow me to atone for forcing her to come to Truthhold. Then again, since it wouldn’t cost me anything, it probably wouldn’t be atonement.
I settled for answering her question as clearly as I could. “Lots of practice. After I use a Truth a few times that way, I get a feel for which threads of node power correspond to the spell. If I concentrate, I see the wisps of enchantment all over Rose Castle. I simply pluck the right strand, concentrating on what I want and where, and it appears.”
“That sounds like how mages can use enchantments.”
“I have an exceptionally strong tie to the node.”
“That was the reason you gave for being immune to the truth-telling enchantment. Does that mean that not every person with a blood-tie shares that immunity?”
“Exactly. There is usually one person every generation with a stronger tie who is immune, though sometimes it is more and my father’s generation had none.”
“So, it isn’t because you are the duke.”
“No. I was immune to that enchantment even while by father had the primary node-tie.”
“And he wasn’t immune.” Her expression shifted, becoming a glare directed pointedly my way. “Why didn’t you tell me you are a truth-teller?”
My ears flattened. “Because I’m not. My only magic comes from the node.”
Her raised eyebrow spoke louder than words. “You trigger enchantments in a manner exclusive to mages. You are immune to truth-telling.”
“Because of the node.”
“Yet your father didn’t share your immunity. Could he trigger Truths without invocation?”
“He never tried. He didn’t use many Truths often enough for it to matter,” I lied. My father had attempted to use a Truth without the invocation once I discovered the ability. He couldn’t even sense the strands of power, let alone use them.
I wasn’t sure exactly why I was lying to Isa. Perhaps because she noticed the inconsistencies in how my father and I could use the node without ever knowing my father. She recognized that there might be something more to my affinity for node magics.
I was twenty-six years old, had grown up surrounded by truth magics, and had never once considered the possibility that I might have power of my own. Isa came in and reached the conclusion I might be a mage in a handful of days. I needed to figure out if there was any chance she was right.
If I was a truth-teller, then not only had I ignored my own power my entire life, but I had ripped Isa away from her life for no reason. I had gambled that a truth-mage could do what I couldn’t and use the node to reverse Cecily”s curse.
Considering the months I had spent working to break the curse on my own, I wasn’t sure if learning I was a mage would be good or bad news. It might mean only Cecily could break the curse. It might mean that if I learned to use my power instead of the node’s, I could accomplish so much more.
If I was a mage.
I plucked another strand of power, calling a bowl of beef stew in front of me. “Eat before the chicken gets cold. Or find something else in the cookbook, though I’ll tell you this chicken recipe is delicious.”
To my surprise, Isa didn’t push any more about the possibility of me being a mage. That didn’t mean she didn’t push at all, though. “Then why aren’t you having any?”
I didn’t answer, summoning more food, a crusty loaf of bread, butter, garlic sautéed green beans, and wine. Maybe the influx of food would distract her from her question. I hunched over my bowl, knowing Isa wouldn’t let me off the hook twice in one evening. Would this admission be more or less embarrassing than acknowledging I might have lived my entire life without ever realizing I was a mage?
Isa waited until the last item appeared, then pulled the empty plate at the seat next to her over and sliced off a generous portion of chicken breast. She transferred it to the plate, cutting it into small pieces, then pushed the plate toward me. She filled her own plate. “I take it roast chicken is a bit like a pot of tea. It only comes in a form that isn’t conducive to a cat serving himself? Do you have to eat stew for every meal?”
I pushed aside the bowl and helped myself to a bite of chicken. It was too late to avoid the embarrassment, so I might as well enjoy the food. “Not if I dine alone. When I don’t need to worry about manners, I can eat roast chicken just fine. I was sparing you.”
“If you’d rather dine alone, just let me know. Now that I know how to summon my own meals, I can make do for myself.”
I shook my head. “I’d rather eat endless bowls of stew. At this point, any company is good company.”
And I was lying to her once again. I often skipped meals with Marc. But I’d take Isa’s insults and anger over his polite conversations about nothing any day.
She laughed. “This is probably the first time I’ve been called good company. If you’d rather dine with me than by yourself, then I can prepare your plate.” She paused, her lips twitching. “I’ll just pretend you are a small child and chop everything up into bite-sized pieces, Your Grace.”
And that easily, needing her to cut my food was no longer embarrassing, but a joke—though I’d probably hiss at anyone else who said the same thing. “If you are going to treat me like a child, you can at least call me Felix. Given everything else you say to me, it seems pointless to insist on honorifics.”
She shrugged. “Speaking of impolite conversations, what is with the decorating in the castle? Is that controlled by a Truth, too, or can I blame you?”
“It is not controlled by a Truth, but I have not decorated anything but my private suite.”
“Does the castle reset to how it was arranged during the first duke’s life, like the books get re-shelved?”
“No. Furniture only moves as directed.”
“So the guest rooms are still your fault, though due to inaction. I guess that is better than learning you purposefully put together the guest suites that way. Though it beggars belief that you haven’t been moved to fix them by now.”
“I don’t remember them being as bad as you claim, but I haven’t been in one for years.”
“And no one has mentioned that it might be wise to redecorate?”
“Apparently, none of my previous guests have felt bold enough to complain.”
“Whispers among the maids? Even if they didn’t tell you, surely word would reach Berklay. He’d have enough spine to tell you.”
It didn’t surprise me that Isa knew my butler. He had grown up in Leort. His entire family still lived in town. I wondered how well she knew him, though, to judge his character so confidently. She was right. Berklay would have told me if he thought the guest rooms needed redecorating. But Berklay had as little reason as I to visit those rooms.
“Even when the castle was fully staffed, we never had maids here,” I told her. My mother had tried employing maids, preferring to rely on mundane means for certain tasks like laying fires. But with the cleaning and tidying spells that were always in place, there was never enough work for the them. It was easier to let node magic take over those few tasks, or ask a footman or kitchen helper to do an additional job once in a while.
Isa sliced the bread, tearing a piece into small bites and adding them to my plate without asking. “If the rooms weren’t overcrowded whenever you last visited one, then what happened?”
“My guess? My mother was probably redecorating the rooms before she died. She liked to see multiple options at once before making a final choice. She would have called in more furniture than needed, then sent what she didn’t want back to the storerooms. But she must not have finished the rooms in your hall.”
Isa’s eyes lowered. “Oh. I’m sorry I keep complaining.”
I blinked. “It’s fine. I know you aren’t insulting my mother.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up hard memories.”
I peered at Isa, trying to determine just what it was I heard in her voice. “Remembering my mother isn’t hard. A little sad, of course, but I’d rather face the sadness so I can remember the years of happiness that preceded it.”
She lowered her fork, though her plate wasn’t empty. “That’s a good attitude to have. I wish I had more happy memories of my mother. Her entire life was filled with disappointments, though. I’m not sure I have a single memory of her being happy.”
I wanted to insist that her mother must have been happy around Isa and her twin often, but I knew nothing of her life. Her father had signed away her freedom in exchange for his own. Saying something like that might just make me look like an insensitive fool.
I decided to keep my response neutral. “How long ago did you lose her?”
My mother had died two years ago, and the pain was still sometimes sharp. There was a dullness in how Isa spoke of her mother that made me suspect it had been much longer for her. Not that the pain would lessen, but it would be different if she had lost her mother as a child.