Chapter Seventeen
VIOLET
Two stacks of texts sit to my right. I have gone through the entire section on magic and gathered every book with the slightest potential of holding any information that could help me understand what the curse did to Joon’s power.
And none of them has a single mention of stolen or fractured magic, let alone anything to do with curses involving mirrors. At the very least, I expected basic explanations of the effects and general workings of curses. But to find nothing at all, as if they are things of fairy tales?
Pushing away from the short table, I stand. I stretch my back and legs, stiff from hours of study. I frown at the books, then gather them and go about the tedious task of returning them to their rightful places.
The closest I found was a brief mention of mirrors being able to hold and store a limited amount of magic temporarily.
However, it lacked any specifics, such as how long it can retain power, whether it can only be done with the power by the one using the mirror, or if someone can take and store another’s magic.
The day Joon showed me the mirror, I could tell he had left some details out. Curses are born out of pain and suffering. And with the sharp pain behind his eyes, it seems cruel to ask him to relive it for the sake of my curiosity.
The more I think over everything, the stranger it seems that Joon can’t remember anything about the day he was cursed, especially if he is responsible for everything.
Did his injury or the sheer trauma of it all cause him to forget? Or is there something more sinister than even his malediction?
There is no point in stewing over questions that don’t have answers. I shove those thoughts away for another time and weave my way through the maze of shelves, making mental notes of the books I would like to go through another time.
Along the entire length of the back wall are family records. The royal and noble families are a given, but I am surprised to see records of the common fae that work in the palace as well.
The bindings, as well as shelf placement, reflect the status of the families.
Leather and polished metal corners are reserved for royalty, placed higher, away from the ground.
Painted for the nobles, they are positioned in the middle, while unadorned shelves, reserved for all other families, are placed at the lowest level, with the thinnest volumes.
I pull a book at random and flip through it. Name, date of birth, marriages, children, extended family members and their relationship to them, the day and cause of death. They even go into detail with any other notable information, such as crimes or significant achievements.
I find it impressive that everything is written down as fact, without emotion or bias.
The records are far more detailed, but not wholly different from the ones we keep in Firnhallow, with the biggest contrast being that the fae records include their magic abilities and strength.
It explains why we keep such detailed accounts.
Though we must keep our personal family records updated ourselves, and in the event that we are unable, the next of kin is charged with the task.
It makes me wonder if the similarities are a leftover echo of the time humans and fae used to live among each other.
I place the book back on the shelf and search the royal family’s most recent volumes. Perhaps there is someone whose magic abilities could help find a solution to this curse or even shed some light on the unknowns.
My hand hovers over the rich, dark leather of a spine as another snags my attention, and I grab that one instead, opening to a random page.
Sameun, born of Arum
Born to the Arum Lands in the year of the Thirteenth Wind.
First son of King Jiho, born of Eolda and Queen Nabi, born of Arum.
Bonded demon: UNBONDED.
Made interim king in the year of the First Moon.
He became the acting king the year everything had changed for this kingdom. Which makes sense, Joon would have been too young, and with the deaths of the last king and queen, Arum needed a ruler.
I flip through the next few pages until I find Joon’s name.
Joon, born of Arum
First son of King Silla, born of Arum and Queen Raya, born of Lummi.
Born in the year of the Seventh Frost.
Bonded demon: Imugi
Named Crown Prince at age seven, in the year of the Fourteenth Frost.
I was born in the year of the Twelfth Frost, which means we are only five years apart.
The page doesn’t lie as flat as it ought to. When I turn to the next, I find out why. Jagged remnants of a torn-out page poke out along the crease.
“Oh, there you are.” Iseul lets out a dramatic sigh as she rounds a shelf. “I came to get you for dinner, but when you weren’t at the desk, I was worried I might have lost you again.”
I blink in surprise. It’s later than I realized. Just the mention of food makes my stomach growl.
Iseul laughs, and I join in.
“Time got away from me,” I say. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Iseul waves off the apology. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“No. But there are other things I would like to look into further.”
She glances around the section we’re standing in, then at the book in my hand. “What is that?”
Closing it, I shove it back on the shelf. “The royal family registries.” Then, at the confusion on her face, I add, “I wanted to know more about the prince and his family.”
It’s the closest thing to the truth I can say without having the bargain silence me.
Iseul brightens at that. “What is it you’d like to know? Mingi and I have known him for most of our lives. We could tell you more than any book can.” She hesitates and lowers her voice. “He is not as bad as you might think. He’s been lonely for a long time—which is normal for most royals.”
I nod, wondering where this knowledge was the other day. I’ve come to somewhat understand his cold exterior and why he appears fine with being hated by nearly everyone. Most would put up a wall to protect themselves if they were in his place.
“Mingi and I owe him our lives. He found us when we were mere children.” Iseul says barely above a whisper as she leans back against the wall and stares vacantly out the window.
“We were orphans. He saved us by bringing us into the palace. I suppose that is the reason we feel protective of him even after everything.”
I think of Joon falling to his knees before the ice wall, grasping onto the shard so tightly that it sliced into his palm. The pain on his face when he told me about the mirror and the curse. And the brightness of his laugh after he pulled me from the water.
It’s all too easy to forget who Joon is and to think of him as someone I could have interacted with in daily life back home whenever we argue and tease each other.
“He doesn’t act the way I would assume a prince to act,” I murmur, more to myself than to Iseul.
“Don’t judge him too harshly…” she says, misinterpreting my meaning. “He was always formal and reserved, but after the deaths of the king and queen, he became even more closed off. If you give him a chance and get to know him a little better…”
I take her hand and offer a reassuring smile. It isn’t my place to share the things I’m learning about him, so the best I can say is, “I think I am beginning to see what you see in him.”
We end our conversation abruptly in mutual understanding at the sound of the library’s main door sliding open, then closed again. Footsteps approach without hesitation.
Iseul and I wait, watching the space where the visitor will appear. She inhales sharply when it’s the prince who finds us. He looks between us, his expression hardening into a guarded mask.
It isn’t what she said about Joon but how she pleaded with me that helps me see his abrupt changes in mood for what they really are—a shield of ice to protect himself.
“Hello, My Prince,” I say, trying to break any awkwardness before it forms. “Iseul was just telling me it was time for dinner. Would you like to join me?”
She bows. “My Prince.”
His eyes narrow in suspicion, not at all fooled. “Actually, I came to ask you the same thing.”
Iseul squeezes my hand. She is practically vibrating with the need to say something.
“I would like that.”
“Dinner will be served in half an hour in the Western Court.” His winter blue gaze slowly travels over me from head to toe, then back, leaving a trail of warmth rising in my chest.
Perhaps it was my conversation with Iseul, but it is impossible to ignore how devastatingly handsome he is. Even the scar over his eye adds to his unearthly beauty rather than detracting from it.
He could forgo his crown and wear worn and dirty clothes, but he would still look every inch a prince.
How is it that there are times I can forget something so obvious?
Underneath that, I feel a pull toward him that has nothing to do with his looks. I cannot tell if it is the bond that ties me to him or our shared determination to defy the fates we’ve been dealt.
Joon nods and takes his leave.
Once he is gone, Iseul exhales a large breath as if she was holding it the entire time. She grabs my arms and shakes me lightly. “I have never seen him dine with any of his wives after the first night.” She bounces on her toes. “I think he likes you.”
I smirk. We have a mutual understanding between us that allows us to relax when we are alone, but that is all it is. And all it can be.
“No wonder he has been taking you with him on his outings instead of Mingi. He has been insufferable, by the way, pouting about being left behind and unable to do his duty,” Iseul does a playful, mocking impression of her brother.
Joon studies me from the other side of the table, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. He pointedly ignores the embarrassingly loud growl coming from my empty stomach.
I glance longingly at the food, wishing to eat, but I wait for him to begin first.
“Oh, for demons’ sake,” I snap, throwing my hands up. “What have I done this time?”
“You two were acting suspicious.”