Page 33 of Where Shadows Bloom

I nodded to Eglantine. “That’s correct. I... I thought the name suited me better than my old one.”

Her smile brightened. “My mother did the same thing, in fact. She renamed herselfSagesse—she named herself after wisdom. There is great power in claiming a name of your own.”

Eglantine sorted through the pile of documents and books surrounding her. “So, what name is it you’re looking for, my ladies?”

In a small, uncertain voice, Ofelia said, “Marisol de Forestier.”

Eglantine hummed and sorted through the stack of books before her. “That namedoessound familiar.”

Among the books and the papers, something gold twinkled in the sunlight. A small, thin penknife. My breathcaught. They’d taken away all my blades. They’d taken away the clothes I could run in. They said there were no Shadows here, but... we had believed we’d been safe before.

“You know her name?” Ofelia cried, dragging my attention away from the knife. “Did you see her? Did you ever know her? Were you here at the palace about twenty years ago?”

“Just a moment, child.” She flipped open a large, leather-bound volume as long as my forearm. After flipping through the pages, she dragged her finger down a column of names. She jabbed one with her index finger. “Yes, she arrived five days ago!”

Ofelia let out a squeal of delight and hopped up and down, and suddenly she was embracing me as tight as she could. “I knew it! I knew she’d be all right!”

“And there’s no indication that she left the palace,” said Eglantine.

“So she’s here? On the grounds somewhere?”

“It appears so.” Eglantine held up a finger and then flipped through another book, pushing back pages with a furrowed brow. After a minute, her frown deepened.

“What?” asked Ofelia. “What is it?”

Eglantine tapped the book. “I can’t find a record of her being assigned any rooms.”

Ofelia’s arms loosened around me, and my heart fell an inch. “What does that mean?” she asked.

“I—I’m not sure.” She stared down at the words like they would whisper some secrets to her if she glared hard enough. “Where are your parents, Mademoiselle Ofelia? Have they provided you with no answers about this missing woman?”

“My—my motheristhat woman,” she said meekly. Her fingers trembled. She picked at her nails until I stilled her hand. “And... and my father died before I was born. I have no other family.”

Eglantine shrank back into her chair, her skin grown ashen. “My apologies, dear. I... I know what that’s like.”

Ofelia’s complexion was growing very pale again. Her hand clung to mine, her skin clammy and cold.

“Perhaps,” I said, “perhaps there is some record about her father? And his family who might be here?”

Ofelia nodded eagerly. “Yes! He was Comte Luc de Bouchillon.... He served in the king’s army about twenty years ago, Mother said.”

Eglantine tilted her head, like Ofelia had said something amiss. “He was a count, you said?”

Though she bit her lip, Eglantine rose from her seat and walked toward the massive forest of bookshelves. “Follow me,” she called. “We have records of all of His Majesty’s military victories. Your father’s name will be on there, as well as more information about his family. Perhaps your relatives have some quarters here or a summer home not far away. Anything is possible....”

Ofelia’s hand pulsed against mine, gently letting go. She wordlessly followed in the librarian’s footsteps.

I lingered for only a few seconds. I’d been trained to strike fast, to move quietly. In a blink, I had grabbed the penknife and tucked it in the pocket of my breeches.

Ofelia would scold me for stealing or perhaps for being so overly worried. It couldn’t be helped. As it was a Shadow’s instinct to consume the breaths of the living, I was driven and desperate to wield a blade.

I joined the librarian and Ofelia before an oak bookshelf filled to bursting with identical gold-spined tomes. Eglantine gestured to them. “Just a fraction of the glorious victories of our king.”

Ofelia looked at the ranges of dates carved on the spines, drifting toward the time her father would have been here.

I asked, “Are only his victories recorded, madam?”

The librarian blinked. “His Majesty never fails, my lady.” An odd, sloppy smile formed on her painted-red lips. “It would be silly to have a blank book on the shelves, wouldn’t it?”

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