Chapter 77
Belle
Twelve hours later, Gregoire deposited a heap of loose papers and maps on an empty desk. “I found these in the back of the archives.”
The huntsman was still by my side, even after learning that organizing the books involved more than arranging them by size and color on the shelves, which he still insisted was a far better and more aesthetically pleasing system.
He hadn’t even fled when I told him I was looking for books on demons—or why.
He’d even scrubbed the blood off the table for me when he realized I was doing everything in my power not to look at it.
I smiled as warmth spread through me, like the glow of our hearth back home on a cold winter’s night. For all his flaws, Gregoire was loyal, and his endless stream of court gossip had been the distraction I so desperately needed.
Although I hadn’t seen Valen since our fight, he filled the spaces between the pages and haunted each silence.
I could still feel the warmth of his hands on my hips, his lips claiming mine—just as keenly as I felt the knife he’d driven into my heart.
He hadn’t respected me enough to tell me the truth and hadn’t thought I was strong enough to carry it. I wasn’t certain which hurt more.
I turned the page. There was work to do.
Shuffling through the books and loose papers had left my fingers dry and chapped, but at least we’d devised a system to tackle the disaster.
Gregoire would bring me the books, and I’d organize them broadly into fields, then into subjects.
The histories and sciences took up most of the tables, and I piled the books I wanted to investigate later onto a pair of chairs.
I’d discovered quite a few things I’d missed before—yet not the papers I was looking for.
The books Valen had collected on demons and all my notes were gone. Just plain vanished. Over the hours, a seed of panic had begun to grow.
“These aren’t them,” I said.
“Are you sure you didn’t bring them to your chambers?” the huntsman asked.
I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. “No. I was reading the book when Sarkis arrived. I left it right here on this table, alongside my notes and a handful of others. All of them are missing. I don’t understand. Where could they be?”
Gregoire sighed audibly, exhaustion evident in his frame as he unfolded a yellowed map and spread it over the desk. “I’ve looked under every chest, shelf, and bench. They’re not here. Somebody probably stole them.”
The general and his soldier hadn’t left the room alive, and the only others in the library had been Valen and me. And we’d left together. Could someone have slipped in while we were in battle, before Locke barred access to the library?
“Who would have taken them?” I asked. “Those books aren’t exactly scintillating reading material, and my shorthand notes are barely discernible.”
Gregoire shrugged nonchalantly, turning the maps in his hand upside down. “Probably someone in the castle who’s working for your demon, or whatever it is.”
I went still. “What do you mean?”
Gregoire scratched the back of his head. “Well, from what you told me, there’s a demon messing with everyone here. Seems like he’s messing with you, too. He probably has someone in the castle working for him.” He glanced over at me. “If there is a demon.”
The huntsman went back to idly staring at the map, holding it up this way and that.
My blood became ice, and a shiver crept up my neck. Why hadn’t I considered that before? What if the demon had allies in the castle? Spies.
Locke was chasing traitors. He’d assumed that whoever opened the castle doors had been working for Sarkis, but what if they were the demon’s agents instead, pitting Sarkis against the king?
My mind raced, recalling every face I’d met since arriving in the castle. Was it someone I knew? One of the staff? Part of the court?
Gregoire bent over the worm-eaten map and frowned. “This plan of the castle is just plain wrong.”
I shook my head, trying to follow the abrupt change in topic. “What are you talking about?”
He drummed his index finger over a section of the castle. “This isn’t here.”
It took me a moment to orient myself, but then I noticed the discrepancy—there was a small wing where there shouldn’t be one. Or at least where there wasn’t one now, as far as I knew.
I eyed him suspiciously. “How did you catch that?”
He grinned, very obviously pleased that I was impressed. “I have great spatial awareness.” He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned in. “I’ve snuck into just about every corner of this place, apart from the royal wing, of course. The king would have my head if I tried that.”
“He would,” I said, studying Gregoire with fresh eyes. He was far more perceptive—or lucky—than I’d given him credit for.
The discrepancy in the map was unrelated to the demon or the problem at hand—and yet, it felt like more than just a coincidence.
My mind raced as possibilities fell into place, and I nodded slowly.
“My sister discovered a hidden tower at Silverthorn Castle. It’s where the mages lived. What if there’s something hidden here?”
“Like a coven of bloodthirsty mages ruling in secret?” Gregoire’s lips soured, and he looked distinctly less pleased with his discovery. “Maybe hidden wings are best left alone.”
“Let’s go see for ourselves.”
Despite his reservations, Gregoire led me through the castle with the unbridled enthusiasm of a hound who’d scented blood. It was infectious and strange. For the first time, I was relieved to be out of the library, with its dusty shelves, dark memories, and endless promises of hope.
Fantasy or not, this was something tangible at last.
We passed the ruined chapel, and I realized that I’d been so consumed by the petrified wedding party that I’d never investigated what lay beyond.
An inconspicuous corridor brought us into an empty entrance hall that time had forgotten.
The floor was covered with dust, and the windows in the alcoves on the right side were so neglected they barely let light through.
Gregoire pulled out the map and pointed to the blank wall. “There should be something more here.”
“There is.” I walked forward and placed my hand on the wall. The change in stonework was subtle, but there was an outline of where a door had once been. “It’s been closed up.”
“Why?”
“No idea…but maybe there’s something I can try.”
Several times, when I’d touched an object, I caught a glimpse of the past—like a memory imprinted into it. It had happened with the statue of the man crawling in the chapel, as well as in the hall, when I first broke out of my room.
It had even happened back in the Bloodvale the night the beast had attacked the farm. I’d seen what had happened to that family, as clear as day.
It wasn’t my imagination. It was a memory.
Could I do it again?
I closed my eyes, focusing on the tingle of energy beneath my hands. I pushed my magic into the stones, but rather than connecting to them, I listened. Show me what was here before.
For a long moment, there was nothing. Then a vision flickered. An entrance hall, hanging with tapestries. A blonde-haired woman with her retainers, being ushered through the door by soldiers in dark livery.
I drew in a sharp breath. I recognized her—it was the bride from the chapel.
Then the vision was gone.
I stepped back from the wall and studied the doorway. It had worked.
“What did you do?” Gregoire asked.
“I’m not certain, but I think this might’ve been the entrance to the guest quarters once. Let’s check the other levels. Maybe it’s not been closed off entirely.”
We hurried up the stairwell in the far corner, but when we emerged on the second floor, it was the same—a doorway bricked up with aged stones.
I frowned. “Could there be any other entrances?”
Gregoire consulted his map, which he showed me but refused to let me hold. “I don’t think so. The only connection to the castle is through here. This is the only entrance.”
We were hunched over the map when footsteps rang on the steps behind.
The high magister stood in the stairwell, his expression inscrutable. “Entrance to what?”
Gregoire dipped his head in submission. “My lord.”
Suspicion threaded through me. “What are you doing here?”
Locke looked between us. “I could say the same for you two.”
“It’s not what it seems.” Gregoire lifted the map in his hands, panic evident in his voice. “I was helping Belle clean up the library when we came across this map that shows a wing of the castle here, but it’s been sealed.”
I eyed the magister, doubt creeping over me. “Do you know why?”
“I haven’t thought about this place for decades.” He approached the wall and inspected it. “When the king and I first arrived, this part of the wing was destroyed, so we sealed up the doors. It wasn’t safe.”
“It’s ruined?”
Locke gestured to an alcove with a window. “Take a look for yourselves.”
“What destroyed it?” Gregoire asked as I made my way toward the window.
Locke shrugged. “Time. The beasts. The gods only know.”
Beasts couldn’t rip a tower down, could they? Had the castle been attacked?
A thick layer of dirt coated the glass. I wiped it clean with my sleeve. The outside was just as dirty, but sure enough, the remnant foundations of a derelict wing peeked above the grass.
For a moment, I’d thought we’d found something important. A deep sense of disappointment settled over me.
“What were you looking for?” Locke asked brightly. “If you want to see the ruins from below, I think there’s a way to get to them from the courtyard.”
I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “My sister discovered a hidden tower at Silverthorn, so I thought…I don’t know.”
The bitter truth was that I was grasping at straws. Still, I couldn’t shake the nagging sense that the ruined wing was important.
The magister’s gaze drifted over me, as if he were only assessing my appearance now. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I’m fine.” I turned to leave, but Locke’s hand gently restrained me.
“Gregoire,” he said. “I wish to speak to Lady Marquette in private for a moment.”
The huntsman met my gaze and lifted an eyebrow. I nodded. “It’s fine. Get some rest. You’ve been on your feet all day.”
He gave a quick bow and hurried away, clearly relieved to be out of the magister’s presence.
“I hope you haven’t told him more than he needs to know,” Locke said beneath his breath.
“The king’s secret is safe—if that’s what you’re worried about.” My words came out sharper than I intended.
“I’m more worried about you. You’re not your sister, so stop chasing the ghosts of her triumph. What worked for her may not work for you.”
I shrank within myself. But he was right. The mages and the demon were unrelated.
I met his sharp gaze. “Is that why you stalked us here? To remind me that I’m not my sister?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Locke’s mouth drew into a thin line. “I don’t like having to make apologies, Lady Marquette, but I overstepped the other day.”
I raised my brows.
The high magister sighed, then turned to look out the dirty window at the ruins below, as if everything in the world was distasteful to him. “I was angry that Valen had put himself in danger, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I’m just very invested in keeping him alive.”
His words caught me completely off guard. He’d eviscerated me, blaming me for everything and accusing me of not doing enough. It had crushed my soul, and it still burned.
“Thank you,” I said hollowly, not relishing the truth I had to admit. “But you weren’t entirely wrong. I haven’t done enough.”
“Nor have I.” His hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers fidgeting. “I’ve served the king for decades. Now that the end is near…”
He didn’t have to finish the thought. We both knew the fate that was waiting ahead.
“You were an utter ass, but if you hadn’t come after me, I wouldn’t know the truth about the prophecy. About what I’m supposed to do. So, I should thank you for that.”
The high magister turned, leveling me with that inscrutable gaze of his. “I’m worried that you’re trying to do too much. You look exhausted. Let me help. There must be something I can do.”
I didn’t fully trust him, nor did I relish the prospect of owing him anything, but we were running out of time. “I’m missing several important books and documents. Do you know of anyone who might have entered the library since the general’s attack on the castle?”
Locke knitted his brow. “The library is off limits to everybody but you. I doubt any of the servants would dare venture into it after the sentries and I removed the bodies, especially in the state that it’s in. Are you sure these items aren’t in there somewhere? It was a disaster.”
“We’ve gone through everything, and—” For a second, I hesitated.
What if one of the soldiers had taken my notes? Or even Locke? No—I didn’t like Locke, and I doubted that he liked me, but he’d proven that he had Valen’s best interests at heart.
“Is there something else?” he asked.
I was tired of secrets and mistrust.
“Gregoire suggested that someone in the castle might be working for the demon. Is that possible?”
Something flashed in the magister’s eyes. “I vetted everyone who works here myself, the same as I did with you.”
“Someone opened the castle gates for the general’s men,” I pressed. “Did you ever find who did it?”
His expression darkened. “No.”
I held his gaze for a moment, then gave in. I didn’t have time to play games with men. “Perhaps you’re right and the documents are in the library somewhere. I’ll look again.”
I moved toward the stairwell, exhaustion catching up with me. I’d descended the first few steps when Locke said, “Wait.”
I glanced back.
“I vetted everyone in the castle when they arrived, and I keep an eye on all who come and go. However, the royal court is more resistant to interrogation. Many are outcasts. They may not have been working for the demon when they arrived, but that may have changed. Considering everything that has happened, perhaps I need to start asking questions. Better questions.”
My shoulders relaxed as if a great weight had eased off them, one I didn’t even know I’d been carrying. “Thank you. Let me know if you learn anything.”
He nodded, as if acknowledging a momentary truce. “I’ll see what snakes I can scare up. Until then, you should get some rest. You’re of no use to the king, exhausted. You need to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” The corner of my mouth twitched. “Which may be fairly soon, given everything we’re up against.”