Page 24 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
I thought Blackthorn was more than just a ghost, but I was better keeping those fears to myself as we came to the grand doors that led to the libraries reserved for mages.
Master Hale patted my arm, only the mirth in his smile didn’t distract from the regret burdening his gaze. ‘Make the bastards pay, Katherine.’
Then he left me there. I should have been excited or filled with wonder, but as I turned that key over in my hand and looked up at the grand curved arches of the library, a strange sadness consumed me.
I’d imagined myself here a hundred times. Lured by the smell of the old records, the harsh bitter scent of spelled pages. Only it wasn’t exactly as I imagined it. No, because I’d never imagined myself standing here alone.
Despite it being that way for so long, I always thought things would be different. Maybe the mages would see my potential. Maybe a paper would pique their interest, make them change their minds. Maybe allow them to see past my blood, see all the potential I possessed.
Hopeless stupid wishes that had gotten me nowhere.
I turned that key over once more before pushing it deep into my pocket. A gift I needed time to process. I had other things to work on, was the lie I told myself as I made my way back to the portal doors, not quite able to breathe until I was back in Blackthorn’s entrance hall – until I locked eyes with the annoyed feline perched on the stairs. A relieved breath huffed between my lips, suddenly exhausted.
‘I’m alive.’ I held my hands out at my sides in a show of surrender.
Alma gave me a bored blink, jumping from the third stair, tail high as she led me down the hall to a stone staircase that headed down into what smelled like the kitchens.
The clattering of someone at work and a cheery hum greeted me, as well as the delicious smell of fresh bread. William stood before a large stove, stirring something before Alma’s meow announced our presence.
‘You’re back.’ He straightened to dry his hands on his apron, flour clinging to his red curls. ‘Take a seat, I’ve just finished with lunch.’
He didn’t give me a chance to answer before he pulled a cloth away that covered a still-steaming pie, a bowl of roasted vegetables waiting next to it as he started to plate up some food at the wooden table that dominated the centre of the small brick kitchen. ‘Did you enjoy the halls?’
I slid onto the bench at the table, grooved from all the people who had sat there before. One of the planks rose soa glass of water slid until it was before me and the board returned to nail itself back down.
I noticed Alma’s saucer of water and a small fish on the table, she too a guest.
‘I hadn’t expected it to be as lonely as it was.’ I sighed, letting my finger trace the small gouges in the wood, worn so smooth with time it practically gleamed.
Alma leapt onto the bench next to me, distracting me as she pawed insistently at my bag.
I laughed softly. ‘Master Hale sent you a gift but you can’t have it until you’re back.’
Her tale swished in irritation but I petted her head and returned my attention to William.
‘Did Lord Blackthorn return?’ I asked, suddenly ravenous, remembering I’d missed breakfast as William slid a plate towards me.
‘He’s been called away on business again. You’ll find it happens a lot.’ His smile dampened as he sat on the opposite bench with his own plate.
‘I’m sorry if you got into trouble for my wandering last night.’ I sighed, hoping Blackthorn wasn’t too harsh with him.
‘Trouble?’ William laughed, shaking his head. ‘I haven’t had a telling-off from Emrys since I was ten and let a lost goat into the study. It ate his Pervanthus herb collection.’
‘He had Pervanthus herbs?’ I choked on my water. They were mythical herbs, some scrolls claiming they had immortal properties. Although, it was how young William must have been then that surprised me most. Mages didn’t take on apprentices or assistants until they were twelve.
Which made me wonder as to William’s story and just how he’d ended up here, but I shook away the thought. Those things weren’t mine to wonder about as I let my gaze dropback to the table, where I saw the stack of books to his side and papers piled next to them.
‘You’re reading about the Bracken theories?’ I asked with excitement, seeing the title of the top tome.
‘I’m trying to create a more powerful variation of the Abatrox nettle.’ He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Can I see?’ I asked, watching excitement light his eyes as he quickly picked though his notes to hand me his most recent work.
‘If you could help me understand his footnotes in section nine, I’d be eternally grateful,’ he half-pleaded, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Of course.’ I turned the papers around, reading over his first lines, seeing where he’d lost his way. Able to forget the horrid morning with the warm cosy air of the kitchen and William’s honest enthusiasm as he scribbled down my interpretation of the pages. Knowing I was glad to be here. Mad lord or not.
Chapter Eight
