Page 31 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

I cocked my head, thinking.

“Quickly,” he coaxed.

I couldn’t disappoint him. An image of Mordric appeared before me, as if I had stepped backward into my own past, and the evening chill gave way to the gentle heat of the fireplace. Mordric sat in an armchair, his elegant fingers paused between the worn pages of a book. His handsome features were wide with surprise. “He was reading in the library.”

“And what were you doing there?”

I hesitated, the clatter of a broom hitting the floor echoing in my ears. “Going about my chores.”

“No,” he said. My heart thudded in my chest. “What were you really doing there?”

My voice came out in a whisper. “Practicing magic.”

“Where did you learn that magic?”

“From a book. A book that I stole.” I clapped a hand to my lips, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the words that came pouring out of me in a steady stream. “I’ve stolen countless books from his library over the last few years. I know that it’s wrong, but if I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t know half the magic I know now. And I always put them back.”

“I see,” said the prince. “Then you must report to the Captain of the Guard immediately and confess your crimes.”

I stood so quickly that I upset the stack of books piled before me. The sound as they thumped against the flagstones startled me and the courtyard swam around me, easing Enhart’s grip on my mind for the slightest moment before the veil fell again and I was back in the library.

What was I doing? I faltered.

I gasped as a great weight was lifted—it felt as if a wyvern that had been sitting on the bridge of my nose had taken flight—and the world around me came into focus once again. My breathing shallow, I braced myself against the table, the coarse stone grounding me. The prince was silent. I blinked my eyes open once my surroundings finally stopped spinning. “What was that?”

“That was nothing,” he said coolly.

“You made me feel …” I hesitated. “Strange.”

“What I made you feel would pale in comparison compared to what an enemy of the realm would do to you.”

His words sent a chill down my spine.

He sighed. “I have to say, I’m disappointed.”

My cheeks burned. “I know that I shouldn’t have stolen.”

To my surprise, the corners of his lips turned upwards for a fraction of a second. “I don’t care about the books, and I doubt anyone else does either. It is a library, after all. I’m disappointed in your lack of skill.”

“Oh,” I said, torn between relief and frustration. “I told you I didn’t know how to do this.”

“Well, it was easy enough for me to master. And I was far younger than you at the time. I loathe Valnar so I was hoping that this wouldn’t be a long engagement, but alas.” A breeze rustled the edges of his inky black hair as he sat there silently, his expression bored. “Now prepare yourself. We go again.”

Soil muffled the steady pitter-patter of my bare feet as I trotted clumsily along a trickling stream, clutching a cluster of skinny daisies between my chubby fingers. Mama loved daisies. I squatted, plucking another of the pretty white flowers to add to my collection.

“Not too far!” echoed my father’s voice from further up the bank.

I bent my head to inhale the flowers’ earthy scent when a furious buzzing sounded, startling me. I screamed, dropping my bouquet as I staggered backward.

Papa was upon me in an instant, his heavy boots beating against the ground. “What happened?” he asked, scanning our surroundings. His hand rested on the ax he kept tucked into his waistband when we strayed far from home.

“Papa!” I wailed, ducking behind his legs. “A bee!”

I watched in horror as the fiend buzzed gleefully around my bouquet, now splattered in mud. Papa’s palm rested on my brow as he knelt, his dark blue eyes twinkling. Everyone said I took after Papa. Sure, my chestnut hair mirrored his, but he had a beard, and I didn’t want to grow one of those. I wanted to look like my mama, with her olive eyes and golden locks that she refused to hide beneath a cap, preferring to keep them long and wild.

“Don’t be afraid, sunshine,” Papa said.

“Bees sting,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Everybody knows that.”