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The fever that burned through Mara remained steady. Her body never reached parity with the blazing heat she felt in that mirror room, but it still suffocated her. Despite it all, her body shook with chills.

Hermes had been in and out of her room the past few days, monitoring her to ensure she didn’t become worse. However, she wasn’t certain what he would do if she did manage to fall more ill. Was there a procedure for people who got injured getting caught between the Veil, a magick that has been forbidden for the past century?

By the fourth day, Mara’s fever had subdued enough that she felt like she could breathe again. She played with the fraying edges of her blanket as she soaked the bed sheets with her sweat, bored beyond belief, wanting to get out of her stuffy rooms more than anything.

“Princess, the prince is here to see you.”

Mara looked up and willed herself not to make a sour face. Acastus had visited her every day since the incident, which only mildly surprised her. What shocked her the most—much to her regret—was that she hadn’t seen or heard anything from the captain. She worried Cas truly had punished him for saving her.

She had grown to like Evrardin. He was the closest thing to a friend she had since arriving in Kairth aside from Aevum. She had gone from dreading seeing his face, to only being moderately irritated, to even sometimes wishing he would stand closer to her, would touch her, press his body against her, pin her against?—

The prince strolled to her bedside. At one point she would have been inflamed to have the Sun Prince see her a sweaty, sickly mess, but she lost her will to care at all what the insufferable prick thought about her uncomely appearance. Oh stars, she was becoming as foul-mouthed as Evrardin.

“How are you today, Princess?” he asked like he did every time he came to her chambers. His gaze lingered on her burnt arm, stained a dusty-red shade like she had truly been scarred by flames.

“Better.”

That first day Acastus came to visit her in her chambers after the incident, he apologized. She warned herself that he was keen on lying, putting up a well-played front, but deep inside, she wanted to believe he was being genuine. It felt like he was being genuine when he said it.

“Good, good,” he muttered, slowly making his way around her bed, picking up a few of her books with feigned interest as he went. He donned a long black frock, contrary to the summer heat, a high-necked shirt, and dark gloves embroidered with silver threads. His hair had been slicked back, the ends curling slightly. He seemed more sallow than usual, a ghost pretending to be a prince.

“I’ve come to discuss the wedding,” he said casually as if that was the most normal conversation topic in the world to be having at this time. He clasped his hands behind his back as he stood at the foot of her oversized bed. Mara locked eyes with him, listening. “The date has been set for a week from today, rather than a fortnight. I’m assuming that will still give you enough time.”

Mara’s heart sank to her gut. This was really happening. He still wanted to marry her. “Enough time for what, exactly?”

Cas’ raven shoes clacked softly on the rug as he rounded her bed. He stopped before her and sat gracefully on her mattress. Mara couldn’t control the way her body jerked back.

His hand gently patted her leg through her emerald throw gilded in the afternoon sun. “For you to master glassfairing.” Mara’s eyes widened. “Well, maybe not master . But for you to have learned the basics, at least.”

“Acastus, I can’t… I don’t know if I can…” she sputtered. “You still want me to figure out how to glassfaire?” She couldn’t hide the horror from her voice.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

She was dumbfounded to have to spell it out for him. “I mean, I almost just died attempting it. I thought that maybe…”

“That I wouldn’t require it of you any longer?” His voice had a jest of arrogance.

Mara nodded timidly.

“Oh, my love,” he cooed, reaching for her hands and holding them atop her covers. “Glassfairing is the only thing you’re good for. And I sacrificed a lot to get you. I can’t have a useless woman for a wife, now, can I?”

Mara’s stomach churned from the disturbing nature of the words he spoke so delicately.

“Can I?” he asked again.

Mara shook her head, wanting to be compliant. To give him what he wanted.

“Good.” Cas smiled, but it never reached his eyes. His fingers gently stroked the side of her hand, her eyes tracing them before glancing back at him, and her lips parted. His eyes, usually silver and dark, were gilded. She swore she had seen them that yellow shade before, but it was always such a quick flash, she thought it a trick of the light.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, tilting his chin down. “I…can’t stop it.”

Mara paused, holding her breath. “Stop what?”

His lips slanted, holding her hazel eyes with his, and a swarth of regret pooled within them. She didn’t know why, but she was tempted to reach out and rest a hand on his cheek. The way he fixated on her, his face contorted to self-loathing, reminded her of Azor the day of her birthday when he said he had tried talking to her father.

“Cas,” she whispered.

“I never wanted it to go this far. You have to believe me.” His words pleading. The temptation to pull him into her arms vibrated her limbs, but she remained frozen.

As quickly as the gold had arrived, it fled. The silver ice returned to his iris, standing, he flattened his clothes before strolling to the door. “I’ll have your maidens brought up to speed. Many preparations to come. I want this wedding to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

A sick chill ran down Mara’s spine and she shivered. Cas turned to go but Mara spoke up, halting him in his spot. “Did something happen to the captain?”

“Why would anything have happened to him?” he asked over his shoulder. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I just haven’t seen him. I thought he might have been?—”

The prince laughed. “Oh, isn’t this perfect? You care for him. And you thought him capable of the same.” He clicked his tongue like one would scold a child. “I’m afraid the captain has been performing his duties as usual. If he wanted to visit, I’m sure he would have.” A beat passed and she thought he might exit. “He can’t save you, Mara.” He spoke with both a broken sense of remorse and a fiery tinge of malice as if he was at war within himself.

The princess’ chest tightened, shrinking further into her bed as Cas walked out the door. She had hoped that after Evrardin had saved her, they might have come to some semblance of a truce. A neutrality. Knowing now that he wasn’t being prevented from seeing her, and yet he never visited, made her heart beat a little bit slower.

It was late when Mara finally had enough of rolling back and forth in her bed. She swung her feet off the side of her mattress and put on her robe. She had no idea what time it was but she figured it must have been past midnight. The windows were black, the light from her candle reflecting off the glass in a wash of ivory.

She grabbed the tallow candle on her bedside and slid out of her chambers. Sentinels were no longer stationed outside her room, but they still lined some of the halls and roamed the gardens. She wasn’t sure when exactly there stopped being a guard rotation for her door, but it sent a wave of unease through her.

As she approached the library, another idea surfaced. The turn of the hallway beyond the library where she remembered seeing Crowrot rise up the spiral staircase from what had been referred to as the crypt called out to her.

Mara hesitated as she looked at the big wooden door of the library, teetering back and forth on her toes, quickly making her way down the hall before she could change her mind. She had spoken to Crowrot once one early morning, but it was simple pleasantries. She recalled how the old man had told her to give Evrardin a wider allowance, that he wasn’t the easiest man to be acquainted, but he had his reasons. Mara admired how much Crowrot seemed to care for the captain.

She found the staircase that Evrardin had previously walked her up and she now looked down it instead. It was dark, but there was a faint glow of a candle around the corner.

She carefully descended the cobblestone steps, her hand dragging against the wall to keep her balance. The lower she got, the slicker the stones seemed. She pulled her hand back in disgust momentarily but quickly placed it back to guide her when she wobbled in her step.

At the last step, she faced a dark antechamber with a heavy wrought-iron door that had been left slightly ajar, a chink of light speckling the soggy stone tiles with little stars.

She set her candle down on a hole in the stonewall where a brick clearly used to live. She leaned against the door and peered in but couldn’t get much view of anything through the small sliver. She gently opened it further and the sound of iron dragging on stone echoed off the walls. She cringed, squinting her eyes and baring her teeth.

“Come in,” a raspy voice spoke.

Mara took in a breath, admitting she was caught before she pushed the rest of the way into the room. She strolled into a large chamber littered with cobwebs and tallow candles that had long since molded to the wooden table in the center. There were shelves crammed with bottles of all sizes and colors. A litter of chairs in various states, most of them covered in books and discarded pieces of tattered clothes. Her eyes scanned the room, but she tried to be polite and keep her face from making any insulting expressions.

She spotted Crowrot in the back as he heaved a stack of books onto the table, hunching over it. She watched as he did it again with a grunt. The desk beside him had clear vials bubbling from an unknown heat source, the smoke rising and winding in a series of tubes. A faint clattering sound of coins being jostled together created a soothing ambiance.

She hurried over to him, her slippers getting damp as she made her way across the room. “Can I help you?” she asked him.

“Oh, thankie, dear,” he said. He pointed to the books on the table and asked her to dig through them. He told her he was looking for Arcane Musings of Decaying Ailments . “Don’t got t’most efficient of systems. Could do with a bookshelf or two, but t’floor works fine all t’same.”

Mara smiled as she made neat stacks, going through each book he laid on the table. A rusty smell made her look over her shoulder as she gingerly shifted the stack. She thought it might be rude to ask him what that sour smell was, so she tried to ignore it.

Her hands hesitated as she picked up a faded emerald book, its cloth engraved with gilded letters that looked like they had once been vibrant years ago.

The name is what caught her attention. It reminded her of the tome she found in the library after she saw Crowrot exiting in a hurry.

“What’s this?” she asked him.

He paused and stood, groaning as he straightened his back and peered over to what Mara held in her hand. Shorthand for Alchemists.

“Tryin’ to get better. Ev says he can never read my handwriting.”

Something about Crowrot’s reasoning had Mara raising a brow. He grinned at her and turned around. When she looked back at the book, the text had shifted. Realm of the Deities.

Crowrot began to hum as he continued to tidy his space, searching for the odd book he mentioned earlier. Mara set the book on the table with what little room she had and flipped it open. She skimmed several pages before halting on a chapter on demonology and the shifting nature of curses.

Her fingers traced over the parchment, lingering on the shifting words. She leaned in closer to the text, trying to digest what she was reading. She thought back to the tome she suspected Crowrot of leaving in the library, not digesting any of the current words she scanned.

Mara winced, the subservient curse ringing in her head. Something clicked. Something about the prince. Something about Crowrot caring so much for Evrardin?—

“Find somethin’ interestin’?” Crowrot asked, nudging her side and looking down with her.

“I just…” Her finger scanned the page, a realization surmising in her mind. “Is…?”

Crowrot looked at her. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Mara turned to the side. The wrinkles around Crowrot’s eyes made him appear weathered, but they were still bright and full of color. “Do you think the prince would ever do such a thing?” she asked, pointing to the heading titled “Curses and Bargains.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know t’prince well enough t’make assumptions of that nature.” His words were telling her he had no idea, but the cadence of his voice was hidden with something different. He didn’t break eye contact and gazed at her like he was waiting for her to say something more. Something he knew but couldn’t say.

Mara’s eyes danced between Crowrot’s. “Did you leave the Phantom Atonements tome for me to find?” Her cheeks warmed when she realized how self-centered her idea of Crowrot leaving something out for her to find sounded.

He hummed. “Why would I have done that?”

“Because… Is Evrardin…?” She closed her eyes, trying to find her words. “Is the captain cursed?”

He clicked his tongue and turned around, digging through his pile of haphazardly thrown tools and trinkets. When he faced her again, he extended a small vial with dried petals of a warm blush.

She took it into her palm and admired the beauty of the flora trapped in time within the glass.

“The captain’s got a pastime.”

The small petals almost glowed. She recognized them as blight flowers, a very complicated flora to grow and harvest. He’d have to be a skilled horticulturist to cultivate something like this, especially with how vibrant the aura the petals emitted was. Before she could speak, her lips parting, Crowrot urged her back. “Now, you’ll want to be gettin’ back to your studies, Princess. You’ll do no good bein’ caught with the likes of me down here.” She held up the book in want and he nodded. “Yes, take it with ya.”

As she stumbled to leave the dark quarters, her eyes snagged on a wooden bucket in the far corner. She adjusted her vision, her steps slowing incongruously realizing it was filled to the brim with hearts. Her lips parted but she managed to restrain her gasp.

She turned to Crowrot over her shoulder, and he paused his movements, knowing exactly what Mara took inventory of. He shook his head, halting the question on the tip of her tongue.

The contents emitted a soft green glow, but even with the peculiarly unnatural color, she could tell they were organs usually kept locked in one’s chest cavity. The question of what species the hearts belonged to made her skin crawl with gooseflesh.

She swallowed hard and muttered her thanks as he shooed her out, shutting the metal door behind her. She swallowed hard, shoving the vial into her skirt pocket, and began rushing to get back to her room, her heart racing, forgoing the candle she left outside his door. Her stomach rumbled with unease. Acastus was the only thought that was entrapping her mind. Maybe the hearts should have been on her list of growing issues, but it seemed rather moot in the grand scheme of things. It was a dank dungeon, Mara was sure it was just animal hearts used for an assortment of odd reasons, probably an ingredient mixed with the hodgepodge of vials on the shelves to create bizarre concoctions and experiments.