unexpectedly meeting her own gaze in a mirror, in the split second that her startled eyes belonged to a stranger. A shock ran through her. Somehow, he did understand. She looked away, at last able to breathe until she calmed. He said nothing, only waited.
“I must tell you,” she said finally, curling her hands into fists. “This is too important. Someone has to know aside from me.” She took another deep breath. “It started that first night, with the Book of Eyes, when I came downstairs and smelled aetherial combustion. . . .”
The longer she spoke, the more a weight lifted from her shoulders. Until now, she hadn’t realized how punishing it had been to keep all of those secrets—to be the only person who knew about Ashcroft, constantly aware that if something happened to her, the truth would vanish forever.
Nathaniel listened intently, never interrupting, his expression darkening the further she progressed. When she reached the part about the spell Ashcroft had used on her, a shadow fell across the room. At first she thought the sun had passed behind a cloud. Then she saw the emerald sparks dancing around Nathaniel’s fingers as the room plunged further and further into a midnight gloom.
She broke off. “What—?”
Nathaniel had been so focused on her that he hadn’t noticed his own reaction. He glanced around, and went pale. The darkness retreated.
“Sorry,” he forced out. “I didn’t . . .” He struggled to compose himself. Then he said evenly, “What the Chancellor did to you—that spell—you shouldn’t have been able to recover from it. And you shouldn’t have been able to see through his illusions, either, or resist his servant’s glamour. It sounds like you have some kind of resistance to demonic influence—which would explain quite a lot, actually, about everything that’s happened to you since the Book of Eyes.” He raked a hand through his hair, distracted. “But it’s strange. I’ve never heard of anyone . . . never mind. Go on. Why on earth are you smiling?”
Elisabeth wasn’t sure. The sun was shining through the window again. The silver streak in Nathaniel’s hair was sticking straight up, and he clearly hadn’t noticed. And he believed her. Finally. He believed every word. Looking down at her knees, she continued.
“So you see,” she finished at last, “I must go to the Collegium straightaway and tell them everything I’ve learned. I think Ashcroft will strike the Great Library of Fairwater next, then Harrows. He’s moving in a circle around the kingdom, sabotaging each Great Library in order. Perhaps he’s saving the Royal Library for last. But the attack on Harrows is special to him for some reason.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “The defenses at Harrows should be impenetrable. It’s more secure than the Royal Library.”
“His ancestor built the Great Libraries. He might know a secret way inside.” She bit her lip. “And there are two Class Ten grimoires in its vault. If he succeeds—”
Nathaniel straightened. “I see your point.”
“You don’t seem surprised by anything I’ve told you,” Elisabeth said tentatively. “You’ve known Ashcroft for a long time, but you still believe me.”
He looked out the window again, the angle concealing his face. “I have spent the past day thinking of every possible thing that might have happened to you, and every person who might conceivably be responsible for it. I’ve moved past the point of surprise. And besides,” he added quickly, bitterly, before she could comment, “I make a point of never underestimating what a sorcerer can do. No matter how good, or kind, or trustworthy they seem—I’ve seen what they’re capable of with my own eyes.”
The lines of his shoulder and back were tense. To him, this was obviously a personal matter. “You’re speaking about your father,” she said quietly, as all the comments people had made about Alistair began to come together.
Nathaniel stiffened. Silence reigned for a long moment. Then he said, in a clear attempt to change the subject, “You didn’t trust me before. What changed your mind?”
Elisabeth picked at the dressing gown’s hem. “I was afraid of you at first. Now I understand that you helped me. And I believe . . .”
He turned and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“I believe there is kindness in you,” she blurted out. “Even though you try to pretend otherwise.”
The eyebrow lifted higher. “So you’re hoping I might help you expose Ashcroft?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why?”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
He barked out a disbelieving laugh. It sounded almost pained, as though someone had struck him. “Tell me, do you