Selena finished her food without tasting it.
Her concern for Daphene and her unwelcome pregnancy was quickly replaced by her own worries. Daphene had spoken as though her marriage to Prince Eliot were inevitable. Selena had ignored this problem for a long time, but clearly it would not go away on its own.
When she imagined her mother telling her of her engagement, she always imagined running away immediately after. But where would she go? How would she earn a living?
You know magic, but the citizens of Superius would sooner burn you alive than pay you for your tricks, she reminded herself.
I can leave Superius altogether, Selena thought. The notion was so beyond her grasp, she might as well have vowed to fly to the moon.
Selena considered clearing her place but left it for the servants instead. If she was going to be burdened by the duties of a noblewoman, then she would damn well enjoy the perks while they lasted.
Halfway to the dining room door, Selena flinched, remembering what Daphene had said about nobles and “the help.”
Surely, Lucas meant more to her than that. Could she convince him to run away with her? She lacked the courage to go to him and find out. Yet she did not want to be alone, so Selena went to the one person in the castle in whom she could confide all of her secrets.
* * *
Celeste no longer resembled the kind, wise woman Selena had loved like a mother. Her once beautiful brown eyes now appeared too large for her sunken face, gaping out of their sockets as they stared helplessly at the walls around her.
The sight of her grandmother was almost too much to bear. Selena held back her tears, burying the sadness beneath a layer of anger. What cruel god had reduced Celeste to this atrocious state? What had the woman done to deserve this fate of living death?
Selena raged against the unjust circumstances, ultimately blaming herself for failing to discover a remedy.
“I have only one spell left, Grandmother,” she whispered, clutching Celeste’s talon-like fingers and looking down at the woman through a glaze of tears. “I do not even know if there are any thoughts left in you to glimpse. What if I make matters worse? What if I accidentally kill you?”
Celeste did not answer. Her grandmother had not achieved a lucid state in many, many months.
It was easy to lose track of time when waging a one-sided dialogue, and Selena had much to get off of her chest. The protests of her stiff joints informed her that she had been sitting there for more than an hour. She closed the shutters, hoping to coax Celeste into closing her eyes and truly sleeping.
The sun was lower in the sky than she had expected, but it was not too late for her to join the family for dinner. She snorted. Better to surrender to isolation than endure the family’s inane banter—or Father’s heavy silence—she thought.
En route to her bedroom, Selena considered studying that last spell. After all, if she could peer into Celeste’s mind, perhaps she would gain an understanding of what ailed her. It was not the first time the idea struck her, yet there was always a reason to put off the risk.
No more delays, Selena decided. Tonight I will acquire the remaining ingredients, and I will memorize the words.
Even if I accidentally kill her, she will be better off than she is now.
* * *
The first sign that something was amiss was her wide-open bedroom door.
While Selena was not allowed to lock her door when away—the chambermaids needed to see to their duties—she always closed it tight behind her in hopes it would dissuade nosey siblings, such as the twins, from fiddling with her things. Now that she and Lucas were no more, she had no reason to seal it magically.
It was possible that someone was inside cleaning, but Selena knew at once that was false. It was dinnertime, even for the servants.
Unable to swallow her dread since her heart had taken up residence in her throat, Selena crossed the threshold. The sight that met her was enough to make her knees go weak. She leaned against the doorframe for support.
The contents of her wardrobe were strewn all around the room. The pieces of the broken hourglass sat in a pile on her bedspread. Godfrey was standing near them, but he was not looking at the shattered heirloom. No, her father was looking at her mother, who added more items—dresses, books, a walking stick—to the mess on the floor.
Then Selena saw Father Briarbridge standing in the far corner. The priest was the first to notice her arrival. His expression was grimmer than usual, and while the dour man had never intimidated her before, she quailed beneath his gaze.
Briarbridge did not say anything. He merely looked down at his hands, which held something with white-knuckled resolve.
Her spell book.