Chapter 9
The day passed spent within the library, immersed in studying the vast collection of hefty tomes detailing curses, vanishing spells, and the history of other ailments that had afflicted both Brimoire and the surrounding kingdoms. In my current state, I wasn’t able to retrieve any of the books myself, but with Lucien’s help in taking down the ones that interested me from the shelves and in turning the pages, I could at least contribute my time to our research.
Neither of us were quite sure where to start. How did one go about discovering the cure for a curse when no one understood how the curse worked? At the very least we could learn all that had been recorded so far, and perhaps studying what had worked against other curses could spark an idea that no one had yet considered. I could also benefit from learning more about Brimoire’s history…assuming there was still a chance I would one day become the kingdom’s queen.
We moved side by side along the shelves, Lucien flipping through each book I pointed to and keeping any that looked promising. When his stack was so high it began to wobble in his arms, we made our way to a table to begin.
Though I had no need to sit, Lucien still drew up a chair close to him while far enough away for me to remain comfortable. I wondered how many memories I’d lost of moments when we’d sat by side like this, or spent the day tucked away reading together. Even though we weren’t doing anything interesting other than researching, I was certain I’d never spent so long at anyone’s side, making the seemingly simple moment all the more special.
“Is this our first time experiencing a moment like this?”
He looked up from the volume detailing countermeasures to antagonistic magic that he’d been perusing. After a moment’s hesitation, he managed a gentle smile. “It is.”
It had felt like a first for us. I was not only grateful for the accuracy of my instincts concerning my forgotten memories, but that I could experience this courtship moment firsthand so that not every step in our progressing relationship would be lost.
The day continued, measured by our growing stack of discarded books. Lucien didn’t even rest when the servants brought him dinner, instead choosing to eat still surrounded by his books. He only paused to prepare me a plate before remembering my condition wouldn’t allow me to eat. The sweet gesture further endeared me to him, stirring a half-hidden part of my heart that my forgetting had caused to grow dormant.
While tiredness didn’t affect me as the hours passed, Lucien steadily grew more and more exhausted—not merely physically but mentally as his longing to find answers deepened. Despite the weariness cloaking him he pushed through, scarcely taking any rest. At first his devotion made me feel treasured before my own worry began to gnaw away at me; it wasn’t a question of whether or not I deserved his sacrifice, but the fact that he shouldn’t disregard himself just for the sake of another.
His desperation triggered something in my lost memories, a rare singular moment when his emotions had faltered in the past. I struggled to piece together the indiscernible flashback captured in broken fragments—the look of frustration that pierced his diplomatic expression, the tightening of his shoulders that caused a similar tightening in my stomach—before it eventually faded, leaving nothing but an unpleasant ache against my temples, somehow present even without a body.
Yet my concern lingered, making it impossible to concentrate. As the sun began to set, casting the dim, candlelit library in shadow, I leaned closer to better examine his haggard expression; even with my inability to touch him, he startled the moment my indiscernible form grazed his shoulder…almost as if he’d felt me.
“It’s growing late. You need to rest.”
Despite my admonition, stubbornness kept him firmly in his seat. “No, I can keep going.” He rubbed his drooping eyes before blearily returning to his book, but by the way his eyes were fixed unmoving on the page, I knew he wasn’t reading any of it.
“You devoted most of yesterday to travel, spent the entire night searching for me, and have been cooped up in the library all day. You must rest.”
Unfortunately my sensible argument wasn’t enough to immediately persuade him. “I can’t, not when I have to make up for—” He swallowed the remainder of his excuse and lowered his eyes to his book. “Our time is limited.”
I frowned. Make up for what? The question burned my lips, but asking it would only invite additional conversation when he was in dire need of retiring for the night; my inquiry could wait until morning…if the curse didn’t snatch it away along with everything else. Absent pockets of recollection were scattered throughout our unproductive day of research, making me fear that anything of relevance I might have uncovered had already vanished.
I drew close enough for our shoulders to brush, a sensation I could almost feel and which drew his gaze away from his book to meet my gaze. “I’m so grateful for someone who cares enough for me expend so much effort on my behalf, but you mustn’t do it at the expense of your own wellbeing.”
He clenched his jaw, frustration clear in his voice as he turned to me. “I can’t give up on you. Surely all these books must contain something that can give us a clue. We’ve sent queries to mages in other countries and tried every suggestion they’ve provided but nothing has worked. Yet there must be a cure…if I could only find what others have so far missed.” His eyes shone with a desperate exhaustion and I wished I could smooth down the hair that he had once again mussed.
“Though I don’t remember our relationship, I do know I wouldn’t want someone I care for to suffer on my account. We’ll gain nothing from having something happen to you too.”
This argument was enough for his resistance to finally falter. “I appreciate your wisdom when exhaustion has robbed me of my own sense.” He released a weary sigh. “I know this isn’t sustainable, but you mentioned that our proximity helps you remain tethered. I’m afraid that should I give in to sleep, I’ll wake up to find that you’ve disappeared, as if your presence was nothing more than a dream.”
The solution was simple; though embarrassment made me reluctant to propose it, the fear we shared gave me voice. “Then I’ll simply pass the night with you in your room.”
He gasped. “In my—but we’re not married.”
Heat prickled where my cheeks might be at the implication that I hadn’t considered. Horrified, I shook my head, drifting back a few paces. “Nothing can possibly happen with me in such a state,” I hastened to remind him. “Even if I had a body…I trust you.” The realization settled over me as gentle as morning dew.
Awe widened his eyes before he hastily lowered his gaze. “I’m not sure I deserve such faith.”
I longed to ask him what he meant, but this new emotion was too precious to risk fracturing the fragile bond we’d managed to forge; my trust further deepened with his continued insistences of protecting my honor that kept him from returning with me to his room.
Despite agreeing that he needed rest, Lucien remained at the library for another half hour before he finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep at the desk where he’d been reading. Though I feared he wouldn’t rest well in such an uncomfortable position, I didn’t have the heart to wake him. I hovered over him for a moment, yearning for the ability to prop a cushion under his cheek or draw a blanket over him.
Since I couldn’t wander far from Lucien’s side nor do much investigating without direction or a tangible body, I had little way to pass the endless night stretching before me. Several books lay open around Lucien, though his sleeping face covered the one we’d most recently been studying. Determined to do something useful, I pored over every word on the open pages until I’d nearly memorized them. Perhaps reading them several times would offer new insight, though in the end I came away with no new suggestions. I scanned Lucien’s scribbled notes in hopes of discovering something we’d missed, some new connection or insight from all our study.
I puzzled over all our accumulate information until the discouragement brought by our lack of progress caused a seemingly impossible ache to form against my temples. Despite the intensity of our efforts, we were no closer to uncovering the answers to the mysteries that eluded us than before.
I heaved a restless sigh. Judging by the clock, Lucien had slept for just over an hour, and doubtless needed much more. Though I didn’t begrudge him the necessary sleep, I struggled with the frustration of having nothing to do, anxiety heightened as the ticking clock continuously reminded me of just how limited we were in finding a solution before Lucien was forced to accept another engagement. I hated standing helplessly on the sidelines rather than using this precious time to find a way to break the curse, even as I feared drifting too far from the man anchoring me.
Despite my relief that he’d finally managed to claim some sleep, without Lucien’s company I found myself bored and restless—a state I was accustomed to, but which felt unsettling after having spent a day filling that usual emptiness with meaning. Other than the guards and servants who attended me back home, had I ever spent so long in anyone’s company, or had my time ever been filled with useful labor like our research rather than the practiced but meaningless conversation of court or the useless accomplishments of well-bred ladies?
I meant to simply pass the night near him, unable to do much after exhausting the resources open on the desk. Instead I found myself watching him sleep. I hadn’t realized how much tension had hardened his expression until seeing his features so relaxed, no hint of the rigid mask I’d grown accustomed to.
The shyness that usually held me captive seemed to slip into oblivion alongside him, allowing nothing to hold back my impulse to touch him. Unconsciously I reached out a tentative finger to lightly trace his features, seeming as familiar to me as the outdoors would when peering through a splattered windowpane, remembering just enough to fill in the blanks created by my blurry memory.
Though I couldn’t feel his skin beneath my caressing fingertip, he stirred in response to my airy touch, as if a subconscious part of him remained attuned to me even when I was trapped in the state of in-between. I idly wondered if our past courtship had progressed this far to grant me such a liberty, but all I could find midst my muddled memories were longings to stroke the serious lines marring his brow in hopes of smoothing them out…ones I was certain I’d never acted upon.
I gave my head a rigid shake to dispel the intrusive memories and pulled my hand away. I tried to distract myself by turning back to the research piled around me so that I might pass the remainder of the night in a more useful pursuit by going over the information yet again, but the effort proved futile when he repeatedly drew my gaze, as if whatever unseen force connected us prevented me from looking away for long.
I eventually managed to summon enough discipline to tear my attention away from him to focus on the pages before me, yet as I couldn’t turn them and discovered nothing new curing my re-read, they couldn’t distract me for long. I passed the night searching the stillness, broken only by Lucien’s soft breaths of sleep.
I didn’t immediately notice anything out of the ordinary, but eventually I sensed a disturbance in the air around me, like a silent ripple stretching across a previously still pond. Nothing appeared amiss at first glance, yet I sensed a presence, similar to an unseen breeze that could only be discerned through how it interacted with its surroundings.
I turned my back to Lucien to eliminate this distraction pulling on my thoughts and concentrated. I gradually began to make some sense of the surrounding nothingness—something seemed to linger just on the other side of an invisible curtain; all I needed to do was reach out and pull it aside.
I remained still, apprehensive about what I would discover. Yet with the curse’s constant threat to swallow up the unknown number of hours I had remaining before I disappeared completely, the time for hesitation had long since passed. I brushed aside the unseen barrier blocking me from the force crowding the library.
As if I’d opened a door to another room, a rush of sound suddenly penetrated the thick silence—soft whispers that seemed to float unseen through the chamber as if carried by the wind, creating the impression that the room was filled with ghosts.
The onslaught was so overwhelming that I immediately tried to block it out, but paused when a nearly indiscernible sound rose above the rest—a familiar voice that I couldn’t immediately pinpoint before realizing it sounded very much like the handmaiden who had accompanied me to Brimoire before she’d disappeared.
My heart lurched and I frantically looked around, but despite this disturbance to the quiet that had previously cloaked the night no one appeared to be there…even as I got the impression that I wasn’t alone. I’d no sooner seized hold upon this thought when once again my handmaiden’s familiar voice rose above the others. I thought I sensed her nearby and tried to follow the nearly indiscernible sound, but her presence was impossible to locate considering she’d vanished alongside the rest of my entourage.
But had they truly disappeared? After all, I was supposed to have vanished as well. Did the others who had been tainted by the curse perhaps also linger? They both seemed nearby and far away, as if I viewed them from a vast distance without being able to fully discern more than a faint outline.
With a wavering breath I tentatively called my handmaiden’s name. “Aira? Are you there?”
No response, at least none that I could hear—even as I sensed several wordless conversations beyond the reach of my comprehension. I called for Aira again, straining every sense, and this time I finally heard a soft answer.
“Princess Lisette?”
I startled at the response. It took me a moment to realize it had been given not by my missing handmaiden but Lucien’s bleary voice as he stirred awake and slowly sat up. I wanted to apologize for unintentionally waking him but couldn’t form the words.
Torn between my avid curiosity over the presences I’d sensed and my growing desire to remain near Lucien and enjoy as much interaction with him as possible, I hesitated before drawing close.
Concern dispelled his lingering drowsiness as he took in my expression faintly illuminated by the nearly extinguished candlelight and noticed the tension tightening my features. “Are you alright?”
I yearned to tell him about what had just transpired, even as I feared doing so would make me appear as if I’d lost my wits in addition to my body. Had our past relationship progressed enough for us to help one another shoulder the burdens we bore? I stared at him in silent debate. Muddled as my memories were, I possessed enough knowledge of my own instincts to know that I struggled with openness, even towards people I trusted.
My new form had given me some freedom from this old weight, but still I hesitated. As much as I wished it had, the act of sharing my thoughts felt too disconcerting for me to believe we’d confided in one another often. Even so, I felt closer to him after having spent the day in pursuit of a common goal and the night beside him while he slept.
I took a wavering breath, searching for the words to describe my strange encounter. The whole sensation had been so odd and otherworldly that I couldn’t be completely sure it hadn’t been my imagination, or worse—that the curse itself was mocking me, teasing me with false hope. If I shared my findings with Lucien and they turned out to be merely a cruel trick, the disappointment would be even sharper for him. Myriads of his subjects had disappeared; for him to believe they might be just out of reach only to discover that they were in fact truly gone would be devastating.
“Princess?” He reached out as if to caress my cheek, but as before his touch went right through me.
“I’m fine, just…” My words faltered as I cocked my head to listen again. The strange whispers hadn’t dispersed when he’d roused—they sounded again though fainter, as if drifting away, drawing my attention from him to an empty alcove nearby. “Did you hear that?”
His gaze followed mine and he shook his head. “Is something there?”
I released a weary breath. “I’m not sure.” With Lucien’s ability to see me, I had hoped he would also be able to perceive the strange voices, but it appeared that whatever I thought I sensed was only noticeable to me. I strained to listen, hoping intently that the curse wasn’t playing games with me.
I startled when Lucien brushed my cheek again, a sensation that was almost a touch. It drew me closer to him and farther from the unseen presence crowding the room. I could almost see the invisible curtain I’d peered behind being pulled shut to mask my notice of the others who had previously occupied the room, the door closing to block out the sound, leaving only the previous silence.
“Lisette?” This time Lucien’s hand moved to rest over mine, drawing the last of my attention away from the room back towards him.
The concern filling his eyes as he peered at me was unlike any I’d ever experienced before, acting as a key to my desire to turn to and rely on him; all I needed was to summon enough strength to unlock the gate of the protective fortress guarding my secrets.
Worry furrowed his brow when my silence extended too long. “Did you feel at risk of disappearing while I slept?”
I shook my head. “I’m alright.” At least I could reassure him of that.
It took time to fully convince him, and even longer to persuade him to return to sleep. In the end he compromised by sleeping on one of the settees in the library so that he could remain near me without bringing me to his bedroom. I alternated between watching him drift off and looking back around the rows of towering shelves surrounding us in a cocoon, but the previous presence I thought I’d detected remained absent. I wondered if I’d imagined them or simply misremembered the experience, even as the instinct that helped me sort through my foggy memories confirmed that the peculiar event had truly transpired.
As the night eventually melted into daybreak, I could only come up with one possible explanation: perhaps what I had faintly discerned was not my imagination, but the world that lay beyond our notice that contained all that the curse had consumed…one I could only access by being caught between two realms.