Chapter 26
“Did you already see this one from Sait Laurent about the candle stick whose flame can burn away any magic?” Al asks innocently, his eyes on his book.
I bite my lip to hold back a grin as his fingers trail up the inside of my arm.
This morning when I came into the library, I told myself that I was not going to let him be a distraction today. I should have known better.
For the last week, Alistair and I have been completely inseparable. When we’re working in the library, we sit at the same table, holding hands as we banter like children. At dinner, we sit beside each other, bumping shoulders as we banter like children. And in the evenings when we sit in the library eating scones, we read and banter like children.
Basically, we canoodle and banter like children.
The staff are unbearably ecstatic over our newfound romance. They grin every time they see us together and tease us whenever we’re apart. No one has had a bad day in the manor in a week and it’s all because I’ve decided that kissing Alistair is more fun than fighting with him.
“Stella?” Alistair says. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning. He’s always glib when he can tell that he’s having an effect on me.
“Hm?” I flip a page in my book, pretending to be unbothered even as goosebumps follow the trail of his fingers on my arm.
“Did you see the part about the candlestick?” he whispers, leaning so close that his nose brushes my temple. “Or are you too obsessed with me to focus on work?”
I whip my head around to glare at him. “I am not obsess—”
He cuts the words off with a kiss and I kiss him back before shoving him back into his chair. Our smirks are mirror images of each other.
“Animal,” I complain, but my blush and boomerang gaze render the word less of an insult and more an endearment.
“You’re one to talk,” he retorts, grinning.
“I did see the chapter about the candlestick, by the way.”
“And?” He bumps my knee with his.
“And its last known location was either in Carakass—on the other side of Dunrow—or in the capital, depending on whether you believe Saint Laurent’s account or his partner’s.”
Alistair groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “If we don’t find some real answers soon, I might have to see about hiring another Poet.”
“Can you even find another Poet?”
“Probably not. I was lucky enough to find the first one. And even if I do find another one, they’ll probably tell me something equally vague and unhelpful.”
“When you hired that poet, what exactly did they say about your curse?”
Alistair sighs and glances at the tall mirror and its reflection of the world outside. I can see him longing to feel the sunlight instead of just seeing it through a crack. I wish I could break his curse so he could rip up the drapes and bask in the light he’s been missing. But I can’t if I don’t know what the curse wants.
“It doesn’t matter, our priority is you,” he says, avoiding my eyes.
“No,” I correct him, grabbing his hand, “Your priority is me. My priority is you. Now will you please tell me more about the curse? I promise I’m not going to abandon our search for my freedom, but if I know more about your curse, I might be able to spot a helpful artifact or story if I see it.”
He sighs and shakes his head, but I know by the look in his eyes that he won’t deny me.
“Four years ago, my brother decided to have a party here at the manor,” he explains, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. “Orrin was looking for a bride that would give him the most opportunity for expansion. Someone with connections and money. He hoped that having them stay with us here would encourage an agreement to form faster than in the city where there were other men to compete with.
“But early in the night, he got into an altercation with a woman in the ballroom. When I saw the situation escalating, I did what I always did and left the room so people wouldn’t associate me with my brother’s behavior. So, I happened to be in the hall when the woman left the party, and I made the mistake of apologizing on Orrin’s behalf.
“I’d just sent my mother away with the Baron the month before to keep her safe from Orrin. And when I saw the woman in the hall, I could hear my mother’s voice in my head. ”Alistair, what kind of man are you?” That’s what she always says to me when she wants me to make a better choice. It’s incredibly manipulative, but it works.” Alistair smiles, his fingers squeezing mine. ”And that night it turned out to be incredibly unhelpful. When I apologized to the woman, she just stared at me for what seemed like a strangely long time. And then she cursed me.”
I turn in my seat so I’m facing him and cover our conjoined hands with my free one. “What did she say? What were her exact words?”
Alistair frowns as he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Once she started speaking, there was this immense pain in my head. It was like a loud bell was chiming in my mind, off key and constantly humming. I collapsed and when I opened my eyes again, she was nodding at me.”
He looks at Narcissus, scratching the cat when he rubs against Alistair’s chest. “Milly found us first, and then Orrin came. The Poet said that I was cursed to be bound to the manor and controlled by the sun. She warned my brother that anyone still inside by daylight would be stuck here with me and then she told me that the length of my curse was dependent on me, but that there was nothing I could do to end it.
“Orrin left within the hour, along with all the other guests. A good portion of the staff left, but Milly and the others stayed for me. Then two years ago, when I went into the nearest village and told them I was looking for a Poet, one came to the manor a week later. It was a man and he told me that the curse could be ended with an artifact that would be found inside the manor.”
My shoulders go taut, and my breath catches in my throat. I”m sure he”s told me this before, but after my revelation at dinner, the words hit me differently. “Would be found?” I ask shakily, thinking of the quill in my room. “You’re sure he said, ‘would be’?”
Alistair nods. “Positive.”
‘Would be found’ in the manor. As in, future tense. I was right. The Poet was talking about the quill—the artifact that I brought to the manor.
“Al…”
“What is it, Freckles?” He asks, concern marring his features as he notices my expression.
“I—”
“Miss Stella?” Christine says, walking into the room. She’s barely holding back a smile, her hands clasped behind her back. “It’s ready.”
“What’s ready?” I ask, confused.
Christine looks from me to Alistair, and then begins to sway in place. It takes me a moment to realize what she’s hinting at.
“Oh!” I stand and pull Alistair with me.
“Where are we going?” he asks as I drag him out into the hall, following Christine from the room.
“Nothing. You’ll see,” I promise him.
But he’s not so easily distracted. “Stella, our conversation isn’t over. Something’s bothering you.”
When we come to a stop before a pair of large double doors, I turn and set my hands on his shoulders. He needs to know about the quill. I know that. But once I tell him, he’s going to ask me to use it. He’s going to ask me to run.
And for just a little while, I want to pretend that this can last forever. That the duke isn’t a problem and that we’re both free.
“We’ll finish our conversation later,” I say. “But for now, I need you to close your eyes.” He tilts his head, resistant, and I give him a pleading look. “Al, please. Just one moment of curse-free, master-free fun.”
Humoring me, he gives me a quick kiss and closes his eyes. I nod at Christine and we pull the double doors open. Then I pull Alistair into the room.
He stops immediately, alarmed by the warmth bathing his skin.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, tugging on his arm. “You won’t burn. I promise.”
He’s slow to follow, but he lets me guide him forward, his face tight with fear. I squeeze his arm and lead him to the center of the room where we come to a stop.
“Open your eyes,” I say, smiling at what the staff has accomplished.
Alistair is hesitant to obey, no doubt afraid that he’ll turn to ash at any moment. It’s been four years since he’s felt the sun and not singed himself by it. But as he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings, I see it slowly dawn on him what we’ve done.
“Turn the lights down,” I shout, and one by one, the sconces on the walls go dark, and the sunlight glows.
The manor has a small ballroom tucked on the south side of the second floor. I found it on my second day here but never had any use for it. Then, when I began thinking of ways to give Alistair a chance to see sunlight, I thought of this room.
Its walls are covered in mirrors, the trim work gilded in gold filigree. Even the ceiling is tiled in mirror plates, accented by a sparkling chandelier. The outer wall has a dozen sets of glass double doors that lead to a balcony with a stone staircase down to the lawn.
The staff and I spent half the night trying to figure out how to let enough sunlight filter through the doors without Alistair being burned by it. We eventually figured out that if we covered all but the two furthest sets of doors, the beams that came through would reflect off the mirrors, lighting the room as if the sun itself were inside.
We timed it so that Alistair would see the room at its brightest. Beams of light bounce from the walls to the ceiling, shining on the marble floors.
“You…” Alistair’s words falter, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back. Sunlight filters across his face, illuminating it in a way I haven’t seen before. The joy in his expression is so strong and blinding that I can’t help but feel it too.
“You gave me back the sun,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.
I shrug. “It seemed only fair since you gave me my happiness back.”
Eyes still closed, he snatches my waist and tugs me close, bending his head. I meet him halfway and our lips collide in a heady kiss.
He clings to me so tightly that I think I might shatter, but I don’t tell him to stop. I hold him just as tight, my arms linking around his neck, pulling him close.
His lips leave mine, but just barely, our noses still touching. “I love you,” he whispers.
My legs give out and my spine forgets that it’s supposed to be keeping me upright. Luckily, Alistair’s arms are more than capable of holding me up.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel it yet,” he quickly reassures me, mistaking my reaction for panic. “I know this has been a lot for you and if you need more time, that’s okay. I’ll give you all of it.”
I shake my head, sad that I clearly haven’t given him the affirmation he needs in order to know how I feel. “I don’t need time,” I say, and then I kiss him, threading my fingers through his hair. It’s soft in my hands and I scold myself for not touching it sooner.
Alistair’s hands are firm on my back, but he lets me take control of the kiss, following my lead. My movements are a little slower than his were, but my kiss is deeper, and he groans like I’ve unlocked a new level that he didn’t know he was allowed to test with me.
“I love you,” I rasp as I pull away.
He grins, his dimples deep. Completely adorable. “Say it again.”
Happiness curls my toes and my smile is so big that my cheeks hurt. “I love you, Alistair.”
“And I love you, Little Wolf,” he breaths, pressing a kiss to my ear.