Malice

Doesn’t even flinch. In fact, I think I detect genuine sympathy in the down-turned corners of her mouth.
“No.” Exhaustion and humiliation overtake me. The kit rattles in my hands. “It isn’t.”
She looks like she’s about to say something else, but a flurry of hurried footsteps echoes down the corridor. Aurora links arms with me and starts herding me forward before I can utter a word of protest.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Why? Who are we running from?”
“No one probably.” She grins a wicked grin. “But possibly my guards.”
“Your—what?” I try to break free, but she won’t budge. This is exactly what I need. To be discovered with the crown princess in a deserted servants’ alley. Add kidnapper to murderess on my list of offenses against the Crown. “Your Highness, I cannot.”
“Oh, hush up and keep moving. I do this all the time.”
Aurora steers us seamlessly through the passages. My heart is racing at the thought of being found, the scar on my middle blazing. But we pass no one. And what seems like miles later—I’ve given up trying to count the forks and turns—the princess finally pulls to a halt at an ancient door in the oldest part of the palace. With a wink, she extracts a tiny golden key from the inside of her bodice and unlocks it. The moldy wood swings wide without a sound. She must oil the hinges herself. It doesn’t look like anyone’s used this place for decades.
We push aside the moth-eaten remains of a tapestry to reveal a vast, shadow-steeped chamber. My eyes squint, adjusting to the gloom. The only source of light trickles in through high, circular windows that are more grime than glass. Chalky moonbeams paint the rotting railing of an upper-story gallery. A spiral staircase, ironwork rusted. Furniture with springs poking out and dusted with cobwebs. And rows and rows of shelves.
“Books?” I forget myself so much that I set my kit down and start drifting toward them.
“It’s the old library. One of the last relics of the first palace.” Aurora lights a fat, waxy candle and trails me. “I do my best for the volumes in decent shape, but some are beyond my help.” She selects one that may once have had a red leather cover, but is now faded to dingy brown. The pages are yellowed and crumbling. She clicks her tongue and replaces it.
“They didn’t move the books when they built the new wings?”
She shakes her head, the bits of auburn in her hair catching in the candlelight. “Only the ones the illustrious masters thought necessary.” Her nose scrunches. “Masters who didn’t even bother to keep this place up. It’s horrid in the winter. Frost gets in through the windows. Damp in the rain.” She frowns. “It should be a crime.”
Laurel would certainly agree. I think her emerald head might explode if she saw books neglected in such a deplorable manner.
“How did you find this place?” I wasn’t aware that midnight excursions to abandoned libraries were high on a princess’s itinerary.
“It’s always been difficult to keep me locked in my rooms.” Aurora laughs and inspects a low shelf. “I figured out how the servants were coming and going as a young girl. After that, it was easy.”
“And no one minds?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“Oh, don’t worry. As the third daughter, I was largely ignored. I didn’t even think I would have children before—” She breaks off, her fingers stiffening around the warped spine of a book as the ghosts of her sisters drift past. “After Cordelia and Seraphina…when it was just me, I made sure to be caught for plenty of other offenses. Sneaking out of my window or the front doors of my chambers. Putting on ridiculous disguises.” The fluidity returns to her shoulders. “Anything to distract my guards and masters from what I’m really doing.”
“Which is coming here.”
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“It’s just”—I struggle to keep my face serious—“when I think of a princess sneaking out of her rooms, trips to an ancient wing of the palace don’t exactly come to mind. Unless…”
“Unless I’m meeting a lover.”
My cheeks heat and I become fascinated with the nearest book, unsure why the idea of the princess trysting makes me so bashful. “That.”
“Well, as you can probably guess, it’s not that.” She taps at the place where her curse mark rests under her sleeve. “My curse is quite intact, as you must have noticed.”
“A lover wouldn’t have to be your true love,” I say, surprising myself.
“You sly thing.” She shoves my shoulder gently. “Don’t you think I’ve endured enough kisses from strangers?”
“Of course you have,” I say quickly. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”
She bats the air. “Enough of that. I’m Aurora to you.”
“Aurora.” The syllables are full and bright on my tongue, tasting of summer berries and fizzy wine. My heart stutters. “Have you found anything interesting, at least?”
“Oh, yes.” She flops onto a divan. Dust erupts from the faded blue silk and glitters in the shafts of moonlight. “All kinds of texts on the realm’s old history. I don’t know why the masters didn’t care more about this place. There should be a historian in here, keeping track of things.”
“Old history? Like Leythana?”
She sits up straight. “You’re interested in Leythana as well?”
“Who wouldn’t be? A queen who earned her crown by right, not just inheriting it like some lazy—” I realize my mistake too late and skid to a stop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“No.” She rises and moves to a column, tracing tiny diamond-shaped patterns in the gritty surface with a fingertip. “I know exactly what you mean. And I agree.”
“You do?”
“In fact, that’s why I’m here. In a way. I want to be like Leythana. Not just an ornament, as my mother is. I want to be fierce and worthy.” She pauses, looking as though she’s debating whether to continue. And then the next words come out in a breathless whoosh. “And so I come here at night to try to find something to break the curse.”
I’m certain