Kieran

We have a visitor today. And what luck, too. I was hoping to spend the day going about my customary routine of doing nothing; the last time I tried to get a little adventure, I ended up with a cheese knife wedged into my chest.

If only she’d succeeded. Shame.

The front doors make way for our guest. When the trailing skirt of her imperial purple dress sweeps the checkered floor, even the dust makes way for her.

The rule is this: whatever she dictates, all her puppets must do.

“Lady Selaena.” I bow, taking her raised hand to kiss it.

She pays no heed to me. Instead, she lifts her huge black hat to appraise Astrid. Astrid, in turn, studies Selaena from head to toe: the coat of silky black hair stretching down her back, her electric green eyes, the curl of her velvet red lips as she turns her nose up at the flame-haired maiden glaring defiantly at her.

I should probably tell her it’s not the best way to get in the enchantress’ good graces.

Selaena turns on me. “A word?”

She doesn’t need to be invited to my library. I trot after her like a lapdog. When I enter the room, she is already lounging against one of the curved seats, the slit of her dress revealing one slender leg crossed over the other.

“Kieran, I’m going to be honest with you.” She rubs away the crease forming between her brows. “I think you’ve officially lost it.”

“And you came all the way here to tell me that?”

“You do know that the time frame I gave you for the curse to be broken has expired by a little over ninety-five years, right?”

I flop onto the couch opposite her.

“Really?” I scratch my head, frowning. “Oh, cheese. Here I was spending each day of my life in misery, hoping I could somehow break the curse.”

She ignores my sarcasm. “In the other world, they call this false imprisonment, you know that?”

“Relax,” I huff. “I’m only keeping her here for a couple of weeks. This is all strictly business. Teach those mortals a lesson, you feel?”

“No, I do not ‘feel’,” she wrinkles her nose. “Even for you, this is a low point. I thought all this time you’ve spent in the castle would’ve taught you a lesson by now.”

Her lecture is starting to sound like a more direct version of Bayorn’s and Imogen’s. Again, that doubtful pang nags at the corners of my mind. But she’s safe. I made sure of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, the door moves by an inch.

“Maybe I just found my new bargaining chip,” I cross my arms, leaning back. “Tell me, enchantress, how much do you care for an innocent life?”

Her upper lip curls in distaste. Her arms mirror mine, and I catch it: that shift in her eyes. That pause for deliberation. She leans forward.

Maybe I’ve finally found a way to snip those puppet strings.

“Not very much.”

Maybe not.

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. I just came here to spare you the agony of useless hope. Also,” her gloved hand gestures to her face. “Lose the stupid mask, won’t you?”

I clench my teeth together to keep from hurling curses at her. She rises to her feet. As her heels click against the floor, my fingernails dig into my palms until the pinch distracts me from doing anything stupid, like rip her throat out.

When the door clicks shut, I heave a deep breath. The fury dies down to a prickling irritation.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Astrid

“Come out,” he says, the impatience in his tone growing. “I will not ask twice.”

I step out from behind a bookshelf. My beating heart seems to be the only sound in this place.

“What’s this about a bargaining chip?” I fold my arms, attempting to seem unfazed. “I am a failed attempt for blackmail, then? A tool that is no longer useful.”

I am only guessing most of what is happening, but my deduction appears to prove true when he visibly stiffens. My lips twitch in triumph.

But then he says: “That is not true. You can still read aloud.”

“Then I shall cut off my tongue,” I snap.

“Would you? If you’d stop talking, that would be delightful.”

“How could you be so…” My thoughts scramble to find the right word. “So inhuman?” He stiffens again, but I ignore it. “Is your vanity so great, sir, so as to refuse to admit when you have made an utterly useless decision? And here I was, thinking you had more morality than most!”

His returned chuckle is both immediate and bitter.

“Vanity,” he murmurs, but not low enough for me to miss it. “What a joke.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What. Did you say?”

He turns his head to the side. “I’m saying that your accusing of me being vain is an enticement for good humour, Astrid.” He spits my name out as if it were profanity. “Can you boast of humility, then, as you turn your nose up at every other soul around you? As you mistreat the people who have attempted to be kind to you in this damned place? As you claim to be above the others because you think progressively and have had the privilege of education?”

My lips part to form a retort, but none comes.

“Perhaps both your parents would be better off taking care of each other without your arrogant behaviour around the house.”

It is as if he has cut the last string in my heart with a penknife.

“My mother is dead.”

My voice is eerily steady, steadier than it has ever been. “My father is going to join her at the rate his health is going, and his last family member will not be around to care for him. Perhaps your three companions here would be better off without your arrogance. And your foolishness.”

And because the lump has begun to rise in my throat, I turn on my heel and storm out of the library.