26. Speak Your Curse, Say Your Vow #2
“Three,” Riot answered, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, watching me with rapt attention. “One for me, Spade, and Twenty. I’ve given you mine.”
My gaze flicked to his. “That doesn’t seem like a meaningless gesture.”
“It’s not.”
Riot’s magic caressed the back of my neck like warm silk as I sucked in a breath, fighting to focus on the door and not the angelic looking man next to me. Two wooden eyes opened halfway. The door yawned before slightly opening its wooden lips.
“Whisper something true?” I repeated.
Riot nodded. “That’s right. Harder than it sounds, isn’t it?”
It was.
Searching my murky soul for something true was difficult.
My life since my moms were taken, and especially after being sent to the Blackthorne Castle, seemed immersed in shades of gray.
Right and wrong, dark and light, were mixing together in my mind and becoming less distinct. What wouldn’t I do for my sister?
Nothing.
That’s not what a good witch would say, is it?
A gray witch, my crone had called me.
Maybe she was right.
Leaning into the door, I whispered into the wooden mouth. “I am a gray witch.”
Pulling back, I waited for the latch to hitch.
Nothing happened.
Riot regarded me with amusement. “I suppose whatever you whispered wasn’t true.”
“That’s nonsense. It has to be. Your dumb door is broken.” With a huff, I leaned in to try again, saying something simpler this time. “I love my sister.”
This time, the door let out a sigh, and a gust of wind blew my hair. A clank sounded, and as the wooden eyes closed again, the door creaked open. Riot grabbed my dagger and flipped it around in his palm, holding the blade and offering me the handle. “Don’t forget this. It belongs to you now.”
“Then how will you get in here?”
“Guess you’re my key now, rat. Now, close your eyes.”
Ignoring the flutter in my chest, I did as I was told, though the room was already dark. Riot liked theatrics, apparently.
The whoosh of metal and fabric sounded around me until finally I felt Riot’s magic warm against my shoulder again.
“Alright, open,” he said with a smile in his tone. “I hope you like it.”
As my vision cleared, my heart leapt into my throat as my mind attempted to process what I was seeing.
Rows and rows of bookshelves lined the room.
Books were stacked in corners next to plush armchairs, and books sat on tables next to wax candles and pens.
Books lined shelves traveling up the tall, domed ceiling, flanked by rolling ladders and balconies hidden in nooks all around us.
“I’ve never seen so many books in my life,” I awed, stepping forward and running my fingers over the spines of old leather. “I think my sister and I have two between us, a cookbook and a hunting book.”
“These are mostly spell books,” Riot explained.
“You’ll find every curse, enchantment, potion recipe, and history of magical arts here.
Our collection is the most vast in the realm.
A great secret, really.” Riot plucked a dusty blue title from the shelf.
“ Amphibians: how to make aquatic life do your bidding , for example, would be an excellent resource once you turn me into a tadpole.”
A laugh of disbelief and awe roughly left my mouth. “This can’t be real. Why would you give me all this?”
Riot lifted a shoulder. “Because I made you cry.” Butterflies . “There’s no doubt a hex or two in here you could employ against my brother and me.”
“You’d just hand that over?”
Riot leaned against the bookshelf and stretched. “Being hexed by a sexy witch sounds pretty hot. Why not?”
Riot couldn’t be serious to save his life—literally.
This gift, however… I couldn’t begin to process what this meant.
The giving of so much knowledge… How many hours, how many years, worth of teachings on witchcraft were buried in these pages?
Things I’d have to beg my crone and coven for every three months and maybe get a sliver of truth from the solstice circle…
it all arranged around me in stacks. All the answers. All the hexes.
Awe and wonder filled my being as I wondered where to start. “You… are so stupid,” I murmured to Riot.
“Are you happy?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine in earnest.
I considered his question, my gaze dropping to his lips. “For now.”
“Do you forgive me?” He placed his palm on the shelf above me, pinning me in with his magic, presence, and the intoxicating smell of pine. “Please?” he implored.
Nodding, I repeated on a breathless whisper, “For now.”
Riot’s gaze dropped to my lips then. The hint of mischief and teasing disappeared from his expression, leaving behind a face that looked too perfect to be real. Something carved from marble, godly, angelic even. He lowered, his breath mingling with mine. My heart fluttered into my throat.
A small voice cleared its throat. “Excuse me, Lord Blackthorne, but you’re pressing into the pages of A Spellbinding Lore and Prophecy of Lagoons and Folklore . It’s the only copy we have, sir. Well, it’s the only copy that exists now. First edition?—”
Riot dropped his head with a sigh. Straightening, he gathered his composure. My composure was still in whatever in-between space that just existed between our lips. Was he about to kiss me? Would I have kissed him back?
Yes .
Riot inclined his head, looking above me. “Forgive me, Wormwood. I was merely giving our new guest a tour. Rat, meet Wormwood. Wormwood, Rat.”
“Oh! We haven’t had new visitors in so long! I beseech you, Dear Rat, to allow me to give you a more—um… proper tour.”
“Who is speaking?” I looked around rows of shelves and hundreds of books in bewilderment.
Riot quirked a grin and pointed to a brown furry creature with big round ears, a pointed pink nose, and standing half as tall as a common paperback. “A mouse?” I asked.
Riot and the mouse corrected me in unison.
“Risible.”
“ Risible. ”
The mouse—I mean—risible, folded his paws together.
“We are more akin to fairies than mice, though, it’s a common misconception.
Risibles reside in and draw magic from mystical scroll holds and shadow filled archives.
Anything you need assistance with or require help finding, ask us.
It’s our greatest delight.” The creature grinned a bucktoothed smile.
“She seems nicer than Wander, at least. We need to procure more of his fantasy series for him, so he stops howling at cliffhangers. I believe he’s on book three. ”
“A risible named Wormwood?” I looked up at Riot in disbelief. “Servant mice?”
“Not servants ,” Wormwood insisted in a studious voice. “The Blackthorne Lords graciously allow us to siphon our power and life source from the sacred texts in this blessed biblioforge! We keep the books in order, and the books give us our essence.”
Riot put a hand to his heart. “And we are immensely grateful for your dedicated keeping of the cryptic codexium.” He shot me a subtle wink at his play on words, mirroring the scholarly vocabulary of the little risible.
Wormwood smiled, puffing his fuzzy white chest out with pride. “The honor is ours, my lord.”
Riot squeezed my shoulder. “You’re in good paws with Wormwood. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Where are you going?”
“Spade wants to meet. Why, missing me already, rat?”
“Of course not. I just assumed you’d want to monitor what hexes I acquire to use against you both.”
Riot let out a small chuckle. “Why would I want to ruin the surprise? Make it good, rat. Wormwood, make sure you show her the sanctuary of sincasting section.”
“Oh, one of my favorites. Excellent suggestion, my lord.”
“I have full faith you’ll take great care of our new friend.” Riot smiled at Wormwood then glanced at me. “See you at dinner?”
“Sure.”
With that, he disappeared down the rows of books.
For some stupid reason, I felt a twinge of loneliness at his absence.
Remembering myself and my mission, I turned my attention to the tiny library mouse.
“My name is Rumor, not rat, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.
I’d like to see everything you have on hexes, charms, curses, and possibly just murder and manipulation in general.
But, I’ll start with hexing my enemies into either death or compliance. ”
Wormwood widened his eyes. “Golly, I haven’t gotten a request such as that in a hundred odd years. How exciting! Let’s make haste. There is a lot of ground to cover in order to get you started.”
It was completely adorable and equally ridiculous how the risible scurried down the shelf, ushering me to follow.
While round, fuzzy, and tiny, I had no doubt this peculiar creature was smarter than me.
Riot had given me all the knowledge and spells I could have ever wanted—complete with a built-in expert historian.
As I followed behind the jumps and scurries of the risible, I mentioned, “I believe we’ve met before… in the grand foyer, on the candlestick.”
“That’s correct. Although you ran away before we received a proper introduction.”
“Sorry about that. This castle is… a lot to take in.”
“A marvel, isn’t it? The Blackthorne Lords are most gracious hosts to all the wayward magic residing here. Not many lords keep libraries anymore, much less appreciate the value of risibles.”
Trailing my fingers down a perfectly dusted row of hardbacks, I scoffed. “Your precious Lords have been less than gracious to Willowspire and in aiding me in helping my family.”
The risible darted around a corner, jumping onto a globe, and then to another shelf. “Hmm… that judgement doesn’t appear sound to me. Are you confident you have all the qualifying information to make an informed decision?”
“Did I just get scolded by a mouse?” I asked, holding in a small giggle.