His threat had my heart stuttering in my chest. I thought back to one of our earlier conversations.
If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve already done so. You’ve had plenty of chances, I’d said.
At the time, Casimir had conceded the point. But now? Did he want to harm me? Or was this merely another test?
“Who’s to say he won’t destroy you in the process?”
Wasthe Darkseer bent on my destruction?
With his fingers still locked around my jaw, I glared up into his face. “And do you want to end my life, Casimir?” I asked.
For the briefest of seconds, he hesitated, his fingers gripping harder than ever—and then, like a gust of wind blown through a corridor, he released me and stepped back. I drank in the air as though deprived of oxygen, and all the while, he smirked down at me as if it had all been a joke. But the proof of my fear still thrummed against my ribcage.
“No, Farrow,” he replied, still smiling in a way that made my heart clench. “I’ve decided you’re of little use to anyone dead.”
After Gwen leftfor breakfast the next morning, I begrudgingly decided to take another crack at getting some answers from theBook of Erebos. I plunked it onto my desk with such force that it rattled the planters and glass orbs hanging along the opposite wall.
Why couldn’t Casimir have given me a magical text with less heft to it?
I swore, gingerly flexing the tendons in my wrist. I reached out to run a hand over the worn brown leather that stretched across the cover. The edges were encased by thick gold bindings. Again, that creeping, uneasy feeling settled over me as soon as my skin made contact with the Book.
“Alright, you can do this,” I muttered to myself. I flung open the cover with all the anticipation of someone waiting for a grenade to explode.
Nothing happened.
Tentatively, I spoke into the silence. “Hello?”
No response. I huffed in frustration. But Casimir had rebuked me about my politeness. So,fine. I’d be polite. I’d be a gods’ damned princess.
“I’d like to ask you some more questions, if you don’t mind,” I said, feeling stupid.
Still no reply.
“I’m sorry about last time. Can we please talk?”
Silence.
“Please?”
…
“I’m asking you politely…”
…
My patience fizzled out. “Quit playing dumb, I know you’re in there!”
“So foul-mouthed for a little human girl,” the Book crooned, its tone a lethal taunt. “I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Malcolm guarded his secrets fiercely, too.”
My stomach dropped like a stone. It was impossible that the Book knew my father. Wasn’t it? Perhaps the sprite’s magic included mind-reading. Probably, it was just trying to frighten me.
“What do you know about my father?” I demanded.
No reply.