“You want to kill them?” Rafe asked.
“So, so much,” Jeremy said.
“Who are we killing?” Tempest asked. Rafe dismounted his horse and faced her.
“Bright Boys,” Rafe said. “One showed up and demanded I visit his king in the Ghost Town. Can you translate that?”
She growled like a wolf, then said, “I can. Unfortunately. Let’s go to the queen’s salon, and I’ll tell you everything I…I’m allowed to tell you.”
“Give us five minutes,” Jeremy said to her. Then to Rafe, he said, “Come on. First things first.”
Rafe gave the horse over to a stable girl and followed Jeremy up the stone steps of the palace and through the open front doors. He stopped abruptly, seized by a sudden and overwhelming sensation of déjà vu. It nearly knocked him to his knees, this feeling of familiarity, like walking into his mother’s house and smelling the perfume of his childhood again. He turned a slow circle.
An iron chandelier dripping with white candles revealed intricate tapestries hanging on the stone walls. Unicorns and griffins danced around maypoles and red stags raced across meadows knee-high in rainbow-hued wildflowers. Arched entryways led to darkened rooms with beamed ceilings. He walked to one door and looked in. A banquet hall held long tables and the largest fireplace he’d ever seen. He could have stood inside the hearth.
A grandfather clock in a sitting room gave a low chime of the hour, and Rafe knew he’d heard that sound before.
“Jay…” he breathed. “This is…”
“Home,” Jeremy said from behind him. “Right? Feels like coming home.”
Rafe raised his hand to touch a silk wolf embroidered into one of the tapestries. A delicate black beast that bowed to a young woman wearing a crown of antlers. “Home sweet home.”
“Come on. We’ll take the tour later. This way,” Jeremy said. He waved him on and Rafe followed.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“To find your book. I’m guessing it’s in the library. Good place for a book, right?” Jeremy was almost running down the hallways, though Rafe kept stopping every few steps to take it all in. Every time they passed a torch it would flicker to life. When they reached the library, another chandelier overhead suddenly lit up with dozens of burning candles. Rafe turned in a circle. Books sat in dark wooden cases as far as the eye could see. He inhaled the scent of leather bindings, old glue, paper and ink.
“All right…” Jeremy said as he checked podiums and plinths and display cases. “If I were a magic book full of memories, where would I be—”
“It’s gone. Stolen.”
Rafe turned around and saw Winter standing in the doorway.
“Stolen?” Rafe’s stomach fell through the floor.
She walked to a red curtain and pulled it back to reveal a niche in the stone wall. Shards of glass lay on purple velvet.
“A Bright Boy broke in and forced the lock two days ago, shattered the glass box into a million pieces. Somewhere in the Ghost Town, there is someone or something calling himself their king. He wanted your memories,” Winter said. “We don’t know why, only that Queen Skya is pursuing him there. She swears she will bring the book back to you, but until then, you both must stay in the palace and not leave again until it’s safe.”
“Why?” Jeremy asked, stepping toward her. “We always fought by her side. Why would we let her fight alone now?”
“Because she knows who this king is.” Winter dropped the curtain. “He’s an old, old enemy of the prince’s, and she says it’s too dangerous for the prince to face him.”
“Who?” Rafe demanded. “I have an old enemy here?”
“I don’t remember anyone,” Jeremy said. “Everyone kills Bright Boys. They can come back to life, but they usually don’t hold grudges. Like Skya says, they’re all wheel, no hamster.”
“I would say if I knew,” Winter said, “but I only know what Queen Skya told us.”
“Could your memories have been erased or locked away too?” Rafe asked Jeremy.
“I don’t remember that, but I suppose I wouldn’t.” Jeremy shook his head. “What about Emilie? Can you tell us where she is?”
Winter sighed. “The queen is taking her somewhere safer. I know nothing else.” She knew nothing else, but it seemed she wanted to say something else. She opened her mouth but closed it again.
“On the ride here, Ripper showed himself to Rafe and said the king wants to see him,” Jeremy told her.
“That is exactly what Queen Skya fears most,” she said. “This pretender king is a dangerous foe. He defeated you before, and she won’t let you risk your life again. You know the queen,” she said to Jeremy. “There’s no arguing with her when she’s made up her mind. Though I fear—”
“What?” Jeremy said.
“I fear she won’t be able to defeat him alone.”
“The Valkyries can’t help her?” Rafe asked.
“We can’t pass into that place,” she said. “We’re made of light and the darkness there is poison to our kind. We’re like fish drowning in air. We would go if we could. But now you’ve heard her orders, and there’s no more I know to tell you.” She met Rafe’s eyes. “I am sorry, Highness. During the summer you were among us, we would all ride the countryside and make camp under the stars. By the fire, we would all take turns telling stories. I liked the stories you two told the best, the one about the handsome spy and the man who was also a bat and would fight crime? They are dear memories to me. And we spoke of them often during those long years without you both.”
She looked at Jeremy. “You remember where your rooms are, don’t you? Nothing has changed. The queen has kept them for you as they were.”
Winter bowed her head and walked out of the library.
Rafe stood very still and quiet while Jeremy dragged his hands through his hair and made an angry circuit of the room.
“We told them James Bond and Batman stories,” Rafe said.
“Yeah, well, we didn’t have the plot of King Lear memorized yet, and you can’t do much better than Batman Begins for a campfire story.”
