Page 159 of The Prince's Curse

On the opposite side of the reading room was a heavy wooden door with a barred window. She crept closer, heart thumping. Ursula growled and batted at her, but Shoshanna put her down and walked closer. Curiosity drew her closer, even as the cat wove between her legs and meowed in protest.

For one bizarre moment, she could have sworn the cat said, Don’t open it!

That was certainly just her brain filling in the blanks. She grasped the thick metal handle and pulled the door open. Cold air rushed in and extinguished the warm glowing candles. The scream of the wind was a thousand banshees proclaiming her demise.

Beyond the arched doorframe, the sheer walls of the tower plunged down into roiling darkness that waited to swallow up careless little witches who dared to go where they shouldn’t…

With a gasp, she slammed the door and pressed her back against it. It vibrated against her, as if the wind was shaking it open. Breathing hard, she looked around the room. For a split second, the warm glow was replaced by a harsh gray cast, and the pleasant library was covered in cobwebs and ropy dark tendrils.

Night Weaver curse lost forever, hissed a chorus of unseen voices.

She shook her head violently, and the candles ignited to a warm yellow again. As she stood there panting against the door, Ursula leaped into her arms. The warmth of the little purring creature settled Shoshanna, and before she knew it, she was settled back in the big leather chair.

How long had she been reading? Was there a time before she was seated in this lovely, warm library?

Thunder rolled again, and the tower shook on its foundation. She yelped in fright, but the cat sat up and nuzzled its head into her chest. Instinctively, she stroked the fluffy cat’s head, focusing her attention there as the glass rattled in its panes.

“What shall we read next?” she asked the cat.

The gray cat purred and settled into her lap, clearly satisfied with her return to reading.

The stack of books never seemed to grow any shorter. As she finished one book, she fetched another and another, piling up books that struck her fancy. Each had to be thousands of pages, but her eyes did not grow weary, and her stomach never demanded food.

Was this right?

She was pondering a two-page spread of geometric designs when a sharp knocking came at the wooden door. Her head snapped up. That was new. Had anyone ever knocked?

Carefully, she rose and went to the door. But when she reached for the heavy metal handle, she hesitated. That cold wind and deep chasm lay beyond.

Instead, she rose on her toes to peer through the small, barred window. There was only darkness beyond.

Perhaps it was her imagination.

She turned back to the table and gasped. A single red rose lay on the polished wooden table. Dashing for the table, she pushed aside her book and picked up the rose. It was somehow brighter, more real than anything else in the library. As she stared at the vibrant red bloom, the color seemed to fade from her surroundings.

Each petal was velvety soft, blood red, and so sweet to her nose. She stroked a petal, down the soft textured stem, until her finger skimmed a thorn. A tiny prick against her skin, until she pushed enough to pierce and felt a sharper sting. Blood welled on the pad of her thumb, and she stared in wonder.

Images flooded her mind. Faces she barely remembered, a hundred voices saying Shoshanna, Shoshanna, and then the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, blue-green eyes glowing against a smiling face.And if she didn’t spin in place to see that she was still alone, she could have sworn she felt a hand on her face.

She dropped the rose and whirled around. This place wasn’t real. The gray cat twined around her legs and looked up, letting out an inquisitive mrow?

“What’s going on?” she asked.

When she bent to pet Ursula, the sight of her hand startled her. It was covered with a glowing filigree, impossibly intricate lacework markings like fabric against her warm brown skin. Sweeping her fingers over her other arm revealed similar markings there, and she rose, staring at her own hands.

The world shifted once more, and those markings were too bright, too painful to look at. As the world shuddered, she saw herself wrapped in thick black vines, tangling her deep in graveyard soil, oily black water covering her. Her chest heaved, her lungs collapsing as she buckled beneath the crushing weight, and?—

“Mrow?”

Ursula bumped her hard enough to startle her, and Shoshanna lifted her up. When she picked up the cat, she stared into its eerie silver-blue eyes. In those depths were cosmic labyrinths, impossible complexities, a kaleidoscope of understanding and magic.

“What are you?” she murmured.

The cat’s head cocked, and then she licked Shoshanna’s nose. As she did, a single word went through her mind.

Protect. Learn. Wait.

She settled back into her chair, staring in wonder at the fluffy gray cat. Then the feline jumped onto the table and nudged an impossibly heavy book closer to Shoshanna. Her furry gray head cocked, and she placed a paw on the purple leather cover.

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