“Ah. When did you figure it out?”
“He told me himself.”
“Curious. My money was on you discovering it first.”
There’s not much left in my own shock tank these days, but Ms. Zeen bet onme? This iron Mary Poppinsbet on me.
“I didn’t find out until after he’d gone through with it. Otherwise I would have forbidden him from it. Make no mistake, we began hunting for a cure long before he hired you.”
And I wouldn’t be here if they’d succeeded.
If there’s one person who can forbid the Warlock from doing anything, it’s Governess Zeen. No wonder he skipped permission and went right to forgiveness.
“He made a mess of things,” she huffs, “but thatmesswas Lazlo. However shortsighted that bargain, Mr. Knight has been happier in the last year than I’ve ever seen him.”
I feel like there’s a prologue to this story that I’ve skipped.Ms. Zeen has been the Warlock’s gloved right hand—assisting with research, Manor upkeep, Lazlo—all these years.Why?Then I remember the crumbs of our last conversation.
“You told me you owed him a favor.”
But it’s more than that. This loyalty smells almost like debt.
She glances down the hall then, as if the house is listening. A melancholic shadow crosses her face. “How much do you know about the library fire?”
My brain limps to keep up. “You weretherethat night. Weren’t you?”
“More than there. I was the librarian.”
“What?” Thereisstill some gasoline churning in my shock tank.
Her nose becomes a sharp beak as her nostrils constrict with a tight inhale. A decision. “I won’t repeat myself, so you best listen.”
My shoulders snap back. I try not to salute.
“Twenty-five years ago, Mr. Knight’s parents broke into the library intending to use the empty building for hazardous spellwork.”
“Why didn’t they just call on a Witch in town?”
Folks who don’t have magic can still utilize a few basic spells if they have the intention and right tools. But beyond that, spellwork doesn’t amount to much without corresponding magical energy to power it. The only reason they’d dodge asking a Witch to help is—oh no.
“Chaos magic,” I breathe.Hedgewitchmagic.
Ms. Zeen nods. “The Widow Witch granted them a wish, years before. For a price, of course. But only with time did they realize the price was too high. When she came to collect, they tried to escape their bargain, counter the magical imbalance with stronger spellwork…”
She doesn’t finish. I know what happened next.
The library burned up like a toothpick rocking chair.
“Mr. Knight followed them that night. But he was young, his own magic was new to him… He would’ve given his own life to save his parents. So I pulled him from the inferno before it could take him, too.”
Of course. The missing paragraph was right there, hiding undermy bookmark, all this time. How did I look at Ms. Zeen every day and read her as anythingbuta librarian?
“His parents weren’t bad people,” she murmurs, her hands clenching the hem of her cardigan. “Just human.” Her exterior cracks, stern eyes glistening. “But I couldn’t save them. Or wasn’t brave enough to. All on my watch—”
“Ms. Zeen, none of that is your fault.”
She gives a terse jerk of her head, dismissing my words. “If I had just intervened sooner, Mr. Knight might not have grown up alone. Or made his own fool bargain with that Witch years later. We might not be here at all, gambling another boy’s childhood.”
My throat constricts. After losing so much, no wonder he disappeared into this Manor and never dug himself out.
