17. A Thousand Cuts

"One abandoned you again, I see," Mara declares. She invades the nook at the back of the balcony I claimed as my own and slumps down in the chair facing mine.

The fragrant smells steaming from her full plate of eggs, cheese, and meat turn my queasy stomach.

"Good morning, Mara." I unfold my leg from below me and sit straight in the chair, resenting the accuracy in her statement.

One did abandon me last night and sent Lori to bring me home in the morning. The raven-haired girl offered a few encouraging words, thinking my lesson had gone badly, oblivious to the real reason her boss would leave me stranded in a world I don't belong in, in a bedroom adjacent to a dead body.

The half-eaten apple on my plate is peppered with brown streaks, and I stare at it for a moment, trying to summon enough strength for this conversation.

"When I saw him earlier, I thought he was about to murder somebody," Mara says.

I snap my book shut. "You saw him?"

Her fork digs into the pile of food, a big chunk already halfway to her lips. "Yes. I was just studying in the bibliotheca with Two, but One strode in like a horseman of the apocalypse and dismissed me with one look. Lori said you'd spent the night in New York…" her voice remains the same, but her eyes flick up to me for a second, the fork hanging in mid-air. "Did something happen?"

"I'm sorry. I have to go." I leave everything as is and hurry off to the stairs.

"Catch you later, alligator."

I shake my head, wondering what the crops is wrong with that girl, and sneak to the secluded, second-floor entrance of the library.

The stacks on the mezzanine run perpendicular to the railing, and my breath catches in my throat. A hooded figure crouches in the dark, in a perfect position to spy on the floor below. It's one of the triplets, but with his back to me, I can't tell which one.

Sweat gathers on my palms at the prospect of seeing One again, until his deep voice echoes from the floor below. "—to not overthink this."

"What are you hiding?" A snarkier voice answers. Two.

"Nothing."

Three looks over his shoulder and offers me an enigmatic smile. The third brother is the one skulking in the dark. The way he moves is so telling—so incredibly specific and bewitching—I feel as though he's weaving words with his body.

He puts one finger over his mouth and motions me closer. Come. Quietly.

"You can't speak, can you?" I murmur.

He shakes his head without shame or regret. No. With his book tucked under his left arm, he peers cautiously around the end of the stack.

Lori has deserted the front desk, probably busy with a customer on the floor above. I risk a glance to the ground floor and catch a glimpse of Two. The cocky brother steps closer to his twin until their masked faces are inches apart.

The differences between them are glaring, the second knight's movements jerky and less fluid. One possesses more of a deadly, feline grace, while Three is so stealthy, he might as well be made of smoke.

The cynical curve of Two's mouth deepens. "If nothing happened, why would you alter the schedule? Did she see something she shouldn't have? Is that why?—"

"No! The kingdom needs magic, and she's got it in spades. The sooner she passes the first three trials, the better. I can teach her how to hunt later," One answers.

Wait… They're talking about me.

Three represses a full bodied laugh, quaking soundlessly beside me. He leans on the shelf behind him and removes his hood, shaking his head. He's got slightly longer hair than his brothers, but I spot a familiar cluster of tattoos behind his ear, and my cheeks flush.

Oblivious to our presence, Two walks over to a table layered with parchments and returns one of them to a scroll holder. "We can't agree to disagree on this. We've got to be on the same page, and that page has got Darcy's name on it. If she saw too much in the gardens or if she can't handle nightmares?—"

One angles his chin to the sky, clearly annoyed. "She saw nothing, and she passed the first trial without a hitch."

Two picks up a book from the table and waves it in the space between them. "Then why are you getting rid of her?"

"I'm not arguing with you about this. You will do as I say."

Two freezes mid-step. "Excuse me?" He slides the volume he was holding in its rightful place with a chilling accuracy. "Need I remind you…the princess belongs to the king."

"I know."

A hard ball of nerves sinks in my stomach, and I glance sideways at the third triplet, but his face is shrouded in darkness.

On the floor below, Two whips his head around to face his brother. "She's meant to serve the king's needs. If it's better for the king for you to train her first, then that's what you shall do."

"The king's needs come first. Always," One says in one breath, the way you repeat a prayer—or rather a mantra.

The two men measure each other. One looks about to punch his brother out cold, but before he makes up his mind, Two turns on his heels and storms out, curses echoing in his wake.

Three brings two fingers to his forehead in lieu of goodbye and sneaks out the exit.

As soon as he's gone, I dart out of the stacks to ambush One before he leaves, too. "You're getting rid of me?" I shout without preamble, my knuckles white over the railing.

Not waiting for an answer, I scurry to the narrow stairs and take them two at a time.

If One is surprised by my arrival, he doesn't show it. He sits on the table he was using like everything is going according to plan and brings a large parchment up between us, his tone withdrawn and dismissive. "It's time for you to train with Two. Considering the strength of your powers, I'm confident you can pass the first three trials and sprout quickly, which will bring in more magic."

I clench my fists to keep from trembling. "Horseshit."

He doesn't glance up from the page he so clearly only picked up to avoid looking at me.

"You're switching me with Mara because of the kiss?—"

"Don't flatter yourself, kitten," he cuts in, the usually endearing pet name dry and brittle. "I'm immortal. I've kissed a thousand women before you, and there'll be a thousand more."

My jaw opens and closes, my belly clenched tight as though I've swallowed a mouthful of ash. A thousand women… It puts things into much-needed perspective, and my anger for this unholy world returns full-force.

"A thousand women and no wife, you're a real…pussy monger." Heat sears my cheeks at my language, but I force a deep breath in.

That's what I overheard Esme call a duke who had many mistresses and no wife, but I don't know what possessed me to say such a thing. It's incredibly crude.

One clearly didn't expect me to talk back to him, probably hoping to shock me into silence, but him and his thousand women can piss off. Instead of fleeing, I walk over to him and stare until he stands.

He stretches to his full height, the oh-so-important parchment discarded in a flash. "Don't push me."

A piece of my soul rises to the occasion, craving more, and it frightens me. I'm so hot, I can hardly breathe. My mind is caught inside the countless stories I've read growing up, my imagination on fire. "Push you? What are you going to do? Enchant me again? Make me undress for you? Dance for you?"

The brazen questions echo across the stacks, and my heart beats in my throat.

One pinches on a loose, white-blond wave between his index finger and thumb and follows it down to the valley between my breasts. "If I'd wished it so, you would have danced for me until your paws were bloody, kitten. But that's not what happened, is it?" he says quietly.

We're hanging by a thread. I only wish I could see his eyes in this moment. I'm sure they would reveal all his secrets.

Lori's booming voice shatters the moment. "Yes, it's the only original copy we have. The very last one," she enunciates loudly. "You couldn't hope for a better reference on the subject."

My gaze darts to the third floor where a wide-eyed Lori glares at us over a row of books. She makes a frenzied horizontal gestureunder her chin behind the customer's back, the motion clearly begging for us to cut it out.

One grips a fist of his hair as he retreats several feet toward the front door. A moment later, Lori climbs down the staircase with her customer in tow. She ushers the Fae lady to the librarian desk, and I recognize her from the banquet.

One forces an unnatural cheer to his demeanor and hurries off to greet his peer. "Isobel, how nice to run into you here."

Isobel offers him her hand to kiss. "We've missed you in Umbra, One. You promised to visit more."

He presses his lips to her knuckles, and the fake warmth in his answer is seamless enough to appear real. "Alas, the king needs me here."

Isobel Umbra is a tall and beautiful High Fae. A crown of braid holds her dark hair up, a feminine golden mask with jade specks resting on her small nose. My studies have taught me that she's the first lady of Umbra, one of the five shadow realms.

One chats her up with an easy smile. "Are you in the mood for a stroll through the gardens?"

"With you? Always," she answers longingly.

My teeth grit together as the two of them leave the library arm in arm, and Lori grimaces apologetically. "I interrupted something, didn't I?"

I blink a few times too many, the anger from before still running hot in my veins. "You could say that."

"Isobel is about the worst gossip of the Shadow Court. I couldn't let her see you two like this. One looked about ready to tackle you down and tear your clothes off."

I swallow hard, appalled by her analysis, and yet I can't quite deny it.

My friend scurries to the main entrance and quietly retrieves the triangular piece of wood holding the door open. She slips it inside the big front pocket of her hooded sweater before spinning around to face me.

"Spill. What's going on with your training?" She plays with the two cords of fabric sticking out of her hood. "I've never seen One so worked up before."

"He's infuriating."

She winces at that, and I can tell by her reaction that I've just said the wrong thing.

"You shouldn't get involved with him." She crosses her arms and looks to the ceiling. "Listen…the seeds who've gotten too close to one of the triplets, they've all—" she stops abruptly.

A line of fear crawls along my spine. "Tell me. Please."

Her clear eyes pulse under the glow of the chandeliers. "They've all vanished overnight, Nell."