Page 106

“He won’t—”

“Jasper!” Andromeda chirped above them both, slipping forward and improvising a plan of her own, one that wouldn’t require the bribe Penbrook had outlined in the carriage.

Fia doubted the snooty librarian would have compromised the grimoires to line his own pockets, and she wasn’t sure a pretty face would sway him either.

But Andromeda, at her most mysterious with the black tulle across her eyes and her lips painted the deepest red, wasn’t just any pretty face. There was something magical about her charm.

Jasper turned at his name, that flat mouth of his widening into a smile when he saw who’d spoken. Even his rook beamed. “How did you know it was me? And, more importantly, who are you?”

Andromeda brought her hand to her mouth, forcing him closer as she whispered, “Someone who’d love a tour of the archives. Shall we?”

He hesitated, stronger willed than Fia might have expected. “Well, let’s see… I’ve got a list of approved names. Are you on it?”

“Yes,” Andromeda said.

The librarian shifted uncomfortably, clearly not wanting to deny her, and perhaps also realizing he’d posed the entirely wrong question. Anything he might ask her now would make it look like he doubted her, and he knew better than to upset a wealthy guest whose donations and bids the library relied on. So he bit his tongue.

Only when he’d drawn the rope aside and she’d stepped past did Andromeda gesture back at Fia and Penbrook. “And my friends too, of course.”

Jasper swallowed thickly, and Fia couldn’t help smiling as she stalked by him, swishing her skirt as she went. He’d denied her entry to the archives all those weeks ago, and yet here he was, unknowingly letting her in.

“Keep watch.” At the command, the rook flapped up from Jasper’s shoulder, then settled on the scrolled end of the banister, a formidable guard to anyone who might otherwise think of making their way up the staircase. Moving past Fia and Penbrook, the librarian invited Andromeda, “If you’ll come with me.”

“I’ve always wanted to see what you keep holed away up here,” Penbrook said as they climbed, the hint of a grin on his lips just for Fia.

“Me too.” She played along, enjoying herself more than she should have, given all the many risks.

“Everyone wants to view the archives,” Jasper huffed, then offered his arm to Andromeda, who, as they circled to the second floor, looked rather weary.

Admittedly, so did Penbrook.

To anyone else, his slow gait up the stairs might have appeared the easygoing manner of someone who never hurried through life. To Fia, he only looked like an overly winded boy whom she’d have to catch when he inevitably crumpled.

Her smile dropped away, and as Jasper led them up and up toward the gargoyle-guarded doors, she tucked herself closer to Penbrook’s side. Tried to see past his mask. “Are you all right?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” An echo of what he’d said about the invitations to the masque—which very obviously had not been fine.

She squeezed his hand, just once, the warm contact as much for herself as for him.

“Here we are,” Jasper said when they reached the landing, and then he was striding toward the doors with haughty authority. One touch of his palm to the wood and the locks clicked open, his hand a key to the archives.

“Oh, show me everything,” Andromeda said, hardly sparing the gargoyles a glance as she passed between them.

Fia, on the other hand, watched them closely, noticing the menacing way they posed, so different from the first time she’d seen them. There was the leering slant to their snouts, a leaning forward of their sharp granite bodies. They tracked her movements just like the one on the face of the library, stony eyes grating in their overlarge sockets.

“Lovely to see you again,” Penbrook murmured, just tempting the creatures to sniff out The Book of Ribs in his pocket.

The one on the left snapped its tail, the sound cracking like breaking bones.

Fia nearly jumped out of her skin. Quickly, she dragged Penbrook into the archives.

Andromeda was nodding her head at whatever Jasper Tremaine was saying, and he seemed wholly occupied, not necessarily with Andromeda, but with his own wealth of knowledge so arrogantly dispensed. She stood by like a dutiful student, one who was about to fall asleep in class—though the curse likely had more to do with that than the librarian himself.

Before Jasper looked their way, Penbrook cast a mirroring spell he hardly had the magic to call. His likeness parted from his body like a ghost exhaled, and then, with a shiver, Fia’s image peeled away from her too. As the illusions drifted forward, they looked only slightly wrong—their limbs unnaturally elongated, their masks blending too smoothly with their skin, their hair predictably perfect, as were the smiles on their widened mouths. Fia could only hope the shadows would hide their unsettling distortions and that Jasper would continue his long-winded lecture, uninterested in anyone other than Andromeda and himself.

Before the librarian took notice of the extra guests, Fia and Penbrook slipped out of sight down the nearest aisle. In Penbrook’s case, the slipping was quite literal. His legs seemed wholly unprepared to keep him upright.

Fia steadied him, her hands curling tightly around his lapels, resisting the urge to ask, again, if he was all right. She knew he wasn’t. Could feel the heat rolling off his body, a fever of overextended magic and the curse burning and burning through him.