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“Oh, I do have something for you before you go.” Inez brightens before pulling something out of her apron.

She presents me with a small notebook bound with strong leather. It gives off a tell-tale purple glow, albeit faintly.

“Your mother’s journal?” I ask, accepting it from her. There is the slightest hesitation in Inez before she lets it go.

“Yes, I…Perhaps we can go through it together soon?” She tears her eyes away from it togive me a hopeful smile. I press the book to my chest.

“I will treat it with the utmost care, Inez,” I assure her.

The creases in Inez’s forehead smooth before she curtseys a farewell. I tuck the journal into a secure drawer in the art room, the only one which has a lock. I keep the key safe in one of the hidden pockets of my dress and make my way to Theo’s glasshouse to clear my head.

The air in the castle grows warmer, although there is still a brisk edge to it, leftover from winter. The cold season never lasts long in Mossgarde.

I climb the mountainous steps up to the greenhouse, needing a moment away from the guards. When I reach it, I find Theo already there.

He sits at the large table in the middle, several pots of soil in front of him and an open gardening book to one side. I open the door with a loud creak, and his head whips up.

“Ah.” His shoulders drop in relief, and his face brightens. “Good morrow, Shivani.”

“You are not in the library?” I ask, sitting beside him.

“I was,” he sighs. “But I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. I needed a moment.”

I smile, sympathetic.

“Apologies for disrupting your peace,” I tell him, but he shakes his head.

“I am pleased to see you.” He leans forwardto press his lips against mine. No matter how often we kiss, it still causes a flutter in my stomach. “Did you find anything useful in your investigations?”

“I am afraid not. Apart from learning the queen was well-liked amongst the staff, which contradicts everything else we know.”

“She was?” Theo is as surprised by this as I was.

“Supposedly, yes. It is why your father got rid of the staff who knew her.”

Theo chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Back to the library, then?” he asks, moving away from the topic. He slots his bookmark between the pages of his book and closes it.

“Back to the library,” I confirm, rubbing an aching spot on my forehead.

We spend the rest of the day sifting through any books which even slightly appear like they may have useful information. I learn more about dragon culture, diet and religion than I ever thought I would, even when my aunt helped me to study. I think to myself, with bitter irony, I would have no issue passing the Frostalm exam now.

“Did you know tattoos are a crucial part of dragon culture and have been used for centuries?” I ask Theo.

“Yes, we found that out yesterday,” he replies, not looking up from the page. His headis leaning on one hand, his elbow propped up on the table.

“Did we?”

“We talked about how it explains my back tattoo.”

“Oh.” I remember one of our many conversations in the gloom of the library. “We did.”

Theo’s tattoo was likely a product of his curse, given the word in dragon text embedded in the swirling pattern. He had shown me his tattoo when I asked and I managed to replicate the word onto paper for us to study. It was not a familiar word to me, so I could not translate it to the common tongue, and none of the dragon books made reference to it, leaving us with another fruitless endeavour.

“I think we might be going in circles.” Theo clasps his hands and sets his brow against them. “I cannot read anymore.”

“But we must not give up,” I insist.