jolted awake, her heart seizing as she saw a long shadow stretching up the wall. But she blinked, and it was only Gertrude, her fists resting on her hips.
“You aren’t carrying on with some young man, are you? Well, let me tell you,” Gertrude said, lifting the heavy bucket and hoisting it down the hallway for her in a rare display of kindness, “he isn’t worth it. Not if he keeps you up at night and makes the rest of your life a misery. There you are, you silly girl.”
Elisabeth nodded mechanically and resumed mopping. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead. Grit and sand filled her eyes. If only Gertrude knew the truth.
By the time she’d gotten out of the Royal Library earlier that morning, the city’s bells had been ringing the fifth hour, and the servants of Hemlock Park were already bustling about their work in the predawn dark. Though she had felt perfectly awake in the archives, her two nights of lost sleep came crashing down on the return journey. Her vision had begun to blur; her steps had weaved like a drunkard’s. When she reached Nathaniel’s house and stumbled on the threshold, she dimly recalled Silas lifting her and carrying her upstairs. He had helped her get ready for work while she dozed on her feet. Then, before she knew it, she was back at the library.
It had taken all her willpower not to skip work in favor of starting on the Codex. There was nothing more frustrating than spending her morning mopping floors, knowing that Ashcroft could make his next move at any moment. But she couldn’t risk attracting attention. This was only her third day working at the Royal Library, and if she vanished right after the theft of a Class Six grimoire, Mistress Wick would take note. Better to spend her morning mopping floors than languishing in the dungeon.
So far, she hadn’t noticed any signs that the Codex had been missed. No bells began ringing; no wardens came sprinting past. The morning crept by in a woolly haze of exhaustion.
At noon, Gertrude granted her an hour off and commanded her to take a nap, then return to work prepared to earn her pay. Elisabeth carried her lunch to a room that Parsifal had shown her in the South Spire. It looked out over the grounds, the broad swaths of green hemmed in by clumps of trees resplendent in shades of red and rusty orange. It was a crisp, sunny autumn day, and the wardens-in-training were out practicing drills. She cracked a window so that the distant sounds of shouting and swords clashing drifted in on the breeze. The trainees weren’t much older than Elisabeth. Just weeks ago, she would have easily envisioned herself among them. Now she felt as though she were a ghost haunting her own body, gazing at her life through a dirty glass. She wasn’t certain where she belonged—or, stranger still, what she even wanted. After knowing Nathaniel and Silas, could she truly declare magic her enemy, and go back to the way she had been before?
She was halfway through lunch, seated at a worktable in the corner, when Parsifal appeared in the doorway. “I thought you might be up here,” he said. “Can I join you?”
When she nodded, he came over to look out the window. “I was too embarrassed to tell you the other day, but I used to come up here because the other apprentices bullied me. That’s what happens when you have a name like Parsifal. I’d fantasize about how I’d be a warden one day and make them sorry.”
She stopped chewing her apple. “You wanted to become a warden?”
“Don’t look too surprised. Of course I did. Every apprentice wants to be one. Sometimes for the right reasons, but mostly because they fancy the idea of being in charge and thrashing other apprentices for a living.”
“That isn’t true,” she protested, but then she thought of Warden Finch, and had to admit he had a point. “What made you change your mind?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s just that there’s more to life than looking grim and stabbing things with swords, isn’t there? There are other ways to make a difference.” He stood there fiddling with his key ring, as if he were working up the courage to say something. As the seconds spun on, she began to feel uneasy. “Elisabeth,” he blurted out, “I know you told the steward your name is Elisabeth Cross.