The Iron Thorn - Caitlin Kittredge [109]
The memory held up its hands. “You’ll believe what you’ll believe, Aoife. Think me cruel if you want, but trust me when I say that the Folk are dangerous to a man, and that Tremaine is worse than most.”
“Just tell me how to break the curse,” I grumbled, “and I won’t bother you any longer.” I’d waited my entire life for this moment, and though I knew the enchantment wasn’t my father in flesh, it was close enough. The crushing feeling on my chest was one I knew well enough that I wasn’t surprised by its presence, even in the wake of my elation. Nerissa had disappointed me innumerable times. I had been stupid to think that my father would be different.
“You can’t break the curse,” my father said impatiently. “No one can. The magic laid on the queens is like nothing else in either the Thorn Land or the Iron one.” He slashed his hand across his chest. “I don’t know Tremaine’s motive for setting us the task, but it isn’t anything good. Forget about trying. You’ll only get hurt.”
“Choice is a luxury I don’t have,” I said, holding myself straight as if I were being castigated by Professor Swan. “Conrad’s missing and Tremaine knows where he is. So, Father, are you going to help me or not?”
He pressed a hand against his forehead and then paced away from me, like the library above was too small to contain even his memory. “No one among me and my kind knows who set the curse against the Folk. No one knows why and no one knows how. Even the Iron Codex has been no help, the pooling of all our knowledge for two hundred and fifty years. With that dearth of information, feel free to do your best with Tremaine’s task. It’s impossible. He’s setting you up to fail, Aoife.”
“Why?” I demanded with confusion. “He wants his queen awake—he told me.”
“Tremaine would as soon have the Winter throne for himself,” my father scoffed. “And to have a Gateminder in his pocket, when you inevitably can’t fulfill your end of the bargain—he could travel in the Iron Land free as we do.”
All of what he said made a certain, sickening sort of sense, but it didn’t change the fact that I had to find Conrad. Even though he’d begged me not to come after him, I couldn’t leave my brother to the Folk. Knowing now how my father felt, Conrad was all I had.
“I’m doing it” was what I voiced.
“Aoife, dammit. There are things I can’t explain to you, but know that the curse cannot be broken. To try is to fail.” He reached for me again, but I backed away. My father’s face fell. “Please, Aoife,” he said softly. “Just go home.”
I slapped the notebook shut, and the silver memory shattered into a million dancing motes before it vanished into the shadow of the library above.
“This is my home now,” I whispered, but my father was gone.
I stayed where I was for a few moments, feeling sick with disappointment and confusion. My father wasn’t going to help me. He didn’t even want to speak with me.
There was a knocking on the ladder, and I swiped at my watering eyes and opened the hatch. Sniveling wasn’t going to break Tremaine’s curse or get Conrad back.
Dean stood at the foot of the ladder, rolling a cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. I shoved the notebook into my pocket and climbed down.
Dean examined me.
“You look upset.” No pet names this time. No doubt he was sick to death of my antics and broody moods, just like Cal.
“I am upset,” I ground shortly. “And no, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk or think or do anything but ball up my fist and hit something, but if I do that I’m unladylike, so I guess I’ll just go try on some dresses or put up my hair until the urge passes.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Let’s you and me take a walk,” he said.
“I don’t want to walk,” I snarled. “I don’t need to be protected.”
“No, you don’t,” Dean said. His calm was maddening when matched with my rage. “But I want to walk, and I want you to walk with me, so before you take my head off again, consider that you don’t have to say a word.” He flashed me his grin. “I hate mouthy broads,