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It sounded so absurd when all those things were strung together. She took a step closer. My mouth grew dry.

“Your friend is the daughter of this very king,” Eglantine murmured. “I want you to tell me truthfully. Just one time, then I’ll never speak of it again. I’ll not tell a soul. What do you think of King Léo?”

I had been trained to preserve my life at all costs. I had been raised to be honorable and noble.

But above all, I had sworn to protect Ofelia.

“Why did you mention Lady Ofelia?” I asked. What sort of test was this?

“I want to know where your loyalty lies.”

An older, more confident knight might have laughed at how boldly the librarian spoke to a trained soldier. But it was spoken with the candor I had been longing for since my arrival at Le Château.

So I answered truthfully.

“My loyalty lies with Ofelia,” I said. “Not the king.”

A smile spread across her face. “Then we have much to discuss.”

16

Lope

The poets write so sweetly of the night,

But I prefer the daylit girl,

Safe upon the grass,

Making memories and making freckles

All for me to count.

Eglantine locked the library doors. We pushed together two tables, and she effortlessly fetched the entire stack of books I’d been poring over. After setting them on the table with a loudthump, she left and then returned with more documents: letters, leaflets, journals.

“There isn’t a curious soul in this wretched palace,” she muttered. “They’re too afraid. Too afraid to seek answers or to push back against what the king calls the truth.” She wagged a finger at me. “You’re what I needed. A reader and a knight. Curiousandbrave.”

“You... needed me?” I repeated.

She sat down, plucking a quill pen off the table and drawing open an empty book. “Yes, dear. But my story comes later. First, I want you to tell me all thatyouknow.”

For a moment, I was gripped by that very same fear she had described. Did the king have a spy hidden somewhere between the bookshelves? WasEglantineto be trusted? And what did His Majesty do to those who doubted him?

“How do I know I can trust you?” I asked softly.

She raised a brow. “You’ve still got the knife, haven’t you?”

I did.

“Then you’re the one with the upper hand.” Eglantine dipped her pen in the inkwell. “Go on.”

I remained standing, resting my hip against the table. I wasn’t sure where to start. “First,” I murmured, “I’ve searched the ledger. I looked back through last month’s record. I found no evidence that the singer, Françoise de la Valliere, ever left this place.”

Eglantine nodded. “I noticed this as well, almost as soon as she’d disappeared. It was curious, almost as if it had been missed... but then when Mademoiselle Ofelia came to me with her mother having vanished under similar circumstances... I began to wonder if something darker was at play at this palace.” Her gaze met mine. “Go on. What else have you found?”

For once someone wanted to hear my thoughts. My theories. All my efforts, finally heard. It was almost too good to be true.

“It is my belief,” I said, “that all the Shadows plaguing our land come from one origin point.... If they are spawned in the Underworld, then they must have a way to enter this world. A door, or a portal.” I watched Eglantine closely for her reaction to my next words. “I believe such a thing to be here, at Le Château. In the gardens. Where I was just attacked by Shadows that are said not to exist here.”