Page 47 of Apples Dipped in Gold

I did not need to inquire after his greatest desire, because I already knew.

“Breaking the curse,” I said.

The fox said nothing.

We continued down the adjacent hall. I considered shouting Lore’s name, but that did not seem appropriate inside a castle, though neither did wandering around its halls without permission.

I paused at an open door to look for Lore but instead found rows of shelves that were packed from floor to ceiling with books. They were beautiful too, leather-bound with gilded spines. I had never seen so many. I took a step toward the room but stopped abruptly.

“What’s wrong, wild one?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” I said, “or make anyone angry.”

“They are just books,” said the fox, skipping ahead.

I looked down the hall to see if anyone was coming before I stepped into the room. It smelled earthy and rich, and as I walked down one of the many aisles, I read the gilded titles and recognized none. I wondered what kind of books they were, if they belonged to the mortal world or the fae.

I started to reach for one, eager to hold it, to breathe in the scent of its pages, to read a story that would take me far from this place, when I heard a noise from somewhere in the room. It sounded like silverware clanking, which was odd given that this seemed to be a library.

I pulled my hand back and crept down the length of the aisle until I came to the end of the shelves, peeking around the corner to find a man sitting at a round table before a large set of arched windows. He looked like Lore but also didn’t.

He was in the middle of biting into some kind of tart when he looked up at me, his eyes a stunning shade of amber.

When he saw me, he froze for a moment and then decided to bite into the tart anyway.

“You must be my brother’s beast,” he said as he chewed.

“I am not a beast,” I said, stepping out from the cover of the shelves.

“I was talking to the fox,” said the man. “Though perhaps I should be talking about you.”

I did not know what to make of this man who was like Lore but also not.

“You must be Lore’s brother,” I said.

He rose from his chair and bowed, still holding the half-eaten tart in his hand.

“I am Cardic,” he said. “Prince of Larkspur, the second brother.”

My brows furrowed. “Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“Introduce yourself as the second brother?”

“Because the number designates our place in line,” he replied. “Lore is the third brother, in case he did not tell you.”

“To be king?”

“No, our father chose a different method for that. When we were together, it established who would eatfirst, who got the best horse, the nicest clothes.Everythingother than the crown.”

“And now that you are apart?”

“It reminds us of our resentment,” he said, then gestured to a chair beside him. “Please, sit.”

I hesitated and looked down at the fox, who was sitting patiently at my feet.

“Where is Lore?”