Page 93

“A lie?” I snarled.

“Not that.” His eyes sparkled. “A secret?”

I scrubbed away tears with the heel of my hand. “What are you talking about?”

“Before you came to speak with me,” he said, “I received a sacrifice.” He lifted a paper from his desk. “A beautiful poem.” He glanced down at it and read, “‘How gentle is her spirit. How tender is her heart. Her words are like the soft glow of morning light. And her kindness is delicate and sweet, like drops of spring rain...’”

My heart skipped.

“Lope,” I breathed, her name sounding like a grateful prayer.

“She gave me a message for you,” he said. “She intends to come here. She asked you to wait for her.”

Hope, bright as the dawn, burned inside my chest, like my heart had finally returned to me.

“She will meet you at the mirror,” he said, and without a backward glance, I sprinted out of the study.

25

Lope

Things the darkness has stolen from me:

The colors of the world.

Birdsong.

Childhood.

The laughter of my friend.

Once again, I stood before the golden gates of Le Château Enchanté.

Gravel crunched. An unfamiliar knight approached, staring at me through the golden bars of the fence. The guard’s eyes were pink-rimmed with exhaustion—a look I knew well.

“You’re no noble,” he said, just by the look of me.

“I know the registrar,” I replied, my head held high. “Madame Eglantine. She... called upon me. She will vouch for me.”

He hummed, looking me up and down—but did not seem to recognize me or see any threat to me. “Wait here,” he said.

Through the bars of the fence, I gazed upon this splendid palace, gleaming in the morning light. Dozens of windows on an exterior of red brick and white marble. The roofs made of deep blue slate, crowned with gold shining bright white in the dawn. With the shape of the building, a long hall with two sprawling wings on either side, it was almost as if the palace were reaching for me.

Before, I’d been its guest, its inferior, meekly entering its magnificent halls.

Now it was only another beast to slay.

Eglantine briskly strode down the drive from the palace. She wore a black gown and kept a purple shawl wrapped around her shoulders, just in time for the first winds of autumn. Seeing her, my only connection to this place now, made my body loosen with relief.

Side by side, Eglantine and the guard stood across from me at the gate.

“Do you know this girl?” the guard asked.

The librarian didn’t smile, but she bowed her head to me. “Mademoiselle, I’m so pleased you got my letter. Come in, come in.”

She waved at the guard, and with a shrug, he signaled to the soldier in the tower to let the gate part. I slipped through as soon as it opened the smallest fraction.

With a bow, I said, “Good morning, madame.”