Page 60 of House of Ydril

I drop to the ground and squint in their direction. It doesn’t take me long to realize that the Little Prince himself has graced us with his presence. Goddamn it, I think to myself as I catch my breath, watching him talk to Harry. It’s been two months since the Ball and I still can’t evenlookat him without it sending me into a fit of rage. And it sure as hell didn’t help that I had to grovel at his feet just to be allowed to be here. But of course,thatwon’t be the end of my misery. Because I’m sure it won’t be long before he comes to smirk at me, taking advantage of this change in our dynamic.

But he doesn’t. While he’s still talking to Harry, I think I see him glancing in my direction, even though he’s so far away. But then he just starts sparring with the rest of them, so as I’m hanging off the bar, my entire body shaking, I can see him fighting the others and, well, wiping the floor with their butts.

Of course, it makes me want to leer. Faust is a pompous, vile, inconsiderate, privileged fucker. But that doesn’t make him any less hot. And the fact that it all looks so effortless, when he manages to send someone flying to the ground… Let’s just say it makes me even more pissed, which doesn’t help my attempts at breaking Harry’s record.

At one point, Faust leaves and I see the others disperse as well. No one throws as much as a glance at me. And of course, I haven’t made a lot of progress, my new record being just shy of eighteen seconds. But as I make my way back to the castle, I conclude that I’ll have to get used to it. Even if I managed to do what they wanted me to, which is absurd, they’d just come up with another way to torture me as they keep me far away from them.

And hey, at least I’m no longer actively scared for my life with them, but the entire purpose of this thing is to get them to talk to me.

That makes me want to ask Moswen for advice. And I’m in my room already, which means there’s nothing stopping me from talking to her. Except the bitch version of myself from yesterday, I think to myself as I let my aching body collapse onto the bed.

But almost immediately after my head touches the pillow, I sit back up and pull over my bag. I take the diary out and I draw in a breath.

“Moswen,” I tell her as soon as she appears, despite that frown still twisting her pretty face.

“What would you like me to do this time, oh exalted master?” she snaps.

I try to ignore the ugly pang of guilt that shoots through me. Sniveling apologies won’t do us any good. “Moswen,” I repeat, adding a touch of tenderness. “I actually wanted to apologize to you.”

I see her shift a little, as if this wasn’t what she expected.

But she doesn’t say anything, so I just keep talking. “Look, there’s been a lot going on that I’m just not used to. Don’t get me wrong,” I rush to add, “I’m not some delicate flower. I never had a family and the things my foster parents did to me, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t put them in a children’s book…”

I finish with a weak laugh, frowning a bit when I see that Moswen seems to be pitying me. I draw in a breath and when I speak again, my voice is controlled and filled with determination. “But that’s not the point. The point is, all this stuff that’s happening, it’s so different from the troubles I’m used to. And I guess I let it all get to me. But that’s not what I’m sorry for…”

She tilts her head a little.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I know you’re not just trying to get out of this whole magical-diary situation. You’re trying to look out for us as well, and I kind of made it hard for you with my shitty behavior.”

I pause, happy to see her face visibly softening. “But I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

There’s a moment of silence before she nods and says, “Apology accepted.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, moving as if to hug her, only at the last second realizing what I’m doing. We both laugh.

“Did you find anything?” she asks, referring to our illegal search for info on the mystery stone. Her voice much warmer now.

I shake my head, my lips pressed tight.

“Any luck with the Vipers?”

“No, and I don’t expect it to change anytime soon.”

She thinks for a second. “You know,” she starts, her voice much warmer now, “I really was trying to protect you. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand the urgency of the task before us. And it’s dangerous…” She pauses for a second as if she’s still unsure, making my ears prick up. “But there’s something I’d like to suggest.”

With that, she just looks at me, making me wave my hand at her to keep talking.

“I happen to know where to find Dame Gothel.”

There’s a second of silence, during which my eyebrows pull down in confusion. “Dame Gothel? The one whose statue we have in the garden? The witch from Rapunzel?”

“Witches don’t exist, Quinn.”

“Of course, I know,” I rush to say. “That’s just what humans used to think faes are. But however we choose to call her, how wouldDame Gothelhelp us? Keeping princesses locked in towers doesn’t exactly match our requirements,” I finish with a laugh.

“That particular story is beyond reductive,” Moswen says with an impatient wave of her hand, nipping my curiosity in the bud. “She’s someone you can strike a deal with,” she says with a fire in her voice. “Whatever you need, whether it’s unbreakable armor or a piece of information on a mysterious stone, beings like her can give it to you.”

I shake my head. “Beingslike her? I thought she was a fae like us.”

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