Page 78 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

“Hello, sir, how can I help you?”

One moment he’d been alone, the next a woman stood in front of him. Brown hair pulled into a neat bun, square glasses on a brass chain, and a perfect customer service smile.

Fitz stared at her in shock, then took off his glasses to wipe them clean again. When he put them back on, the same woman smiled cheerfully at him. “Umm, hello.”

“How can I help you?” she repeated in a chipper voice.

“I’m looking for books on how to break a curse.”

“Oh my, what an unusual subject. Let’s see.”

Fitz blinked, and they stood in the middle of the stacks. The librarian scanned the shelves, brushing her fingers over the spines as she read the faded text.

“Here’s one,” she suggested, handing it to him.

Fitz accepted the book. He braced himself for disappointment, expecting more blank pages. This time, when he opened it, a few scattered words appeared across the pages:a, break, curse, for, I, look, on, to.

“It’s blank,” he said, holding it up for her.

She pursed her lips and leaned forward to examine it, then clicked her tongue. “No, it isn’t.”

Fitz frowned and looked again. More words had appeared:it, is.These two words covered the page like little black footprints.

“It’s just a little hungry,” the librarian said, pulling another book from the shelf and stroking its spine. “They haven’t been fed in a while.”

“How can”—he paused, trying to remember the word. Waving the book in his hand, he struggled through the rest of his sentence—“tome be hungry?”

“All who seek knowledge are hungry,” the librarian replied. She looked back at the shelf in thought. “Is this for academic research or are you personally plagued by a curse?”

“We’re dispelling the bad magic in Grimnight.”

New words appeared in the open book before him:are, dispel, in, the, magic.

Glancing over the shelves, she asked, “What have you attempted so far?”

“Still researching. Us traveled through forest,” Fitz began. Something about the structure of the sentence was wrong, but he couldn’t remember what wasright. As he thought through the problem, he continued to tell his tale. “Many troubles. Ran here. Plan confront evil mage soon.”

“I’m so happy to have a patron again,” the librarian replied, smiling over her shoulder at him. Long, pointed teeth filled her smile, sharp enough to chew through the books and devour the knowledge inside. As they walked, she plucked books off the shelf and handed them to Fitz.

With his arms filling up, he couldn’t pause to read, but he flipped idly through one and found words on more than half the pages.

The librarian guided him to a group of tables in the center of the room. “You said ‘us’, but you’re alone now. Where have your friends gone?”

“Fled separately,” he explained. “Meet up later.”

She pulled out a chair for him.

He sat obediently and spread one of the books before him.

“Tell me about them while I find more books for you,” she said, her voice low and coaxing.

The longer he talked, the more jumbled and nonsensical his answers became. She asked about his life at home, and the first time he remembered he was a Prince of Misfortune. The second time, he couldn’t remember the kingdom name and said, ‘Unlucky Royal’, though he knew that wasn’t right.

The librarian didn’t mind his disjointed sentences or frequent pauses. She continued bringing him books, and each book she brought was more complete. Some blank spots in sentences remained, but Fitz valiantly read on.

After a time, the librarian stopped fetching him books and asked, “Will that be all, sir?”

Distracted by his research, Fitz made a low, affirmative noise. Even if he’d had other questions, he couldn’t speak them out loud.