Page 63 of Castle of the Cursed
At first, I think he’s in a trance. Then I realize he’s trying to break out of an invisible hold; it’s as if a barrier is keeping him indoors.
I flip to the beginning of the journal and start a list:
Sebastián’s Limitations
He cannot leave la Sombra through the front door.
“I have another idea,” I say. “Come with me.”
I hurry in the direction of the tower, and as we cut across the mirror room, he says, “I know where you are taking me. I have read all those books, and none of them holds any answers.”
“But have you tried going out to the balcony?” I ask, and from his frown I know he hasn’t seen it. When we reach the library, I point up to the window that opens, the ladder still positioned beneath it. Sebastián sweeps up the steps, and when he unlatches the stained glass window, he tries to go through it.
Again, he comes up against an invisible wall.
He cannot go out onto the tower’s balcony.
When he meets me back on the ground, he says, “We can continue later. You need to eat.”
That had been my original plan hours ago, before I discovered the Iron Prince. On our way to the kitchen, I recount everything we know about his condition. “Okay, so you appear at night and disappear when the sun comes out, correct?”
“Yes,” says Sebastián.
“And I’m the only person who can see you. So far.”
“That is right.”
Sebastián opens the fridge, and he pulls out a blood bag in surprise. Then he looks at me.
“I appreciate you making sure I’m fed,” I say with a shrug. “Just wanted to return the favor.”
“Thank you,” he says, his manners seeming to take even him by surprise, and he buries his face back in the fridge, busying himself with taking out plastic containers and setting them on the stone counter.
I reach behind me with my arms and pull myself onto the countertop, resting the open journal on my lap so I can add two more limitations to the list:
He disappears during the day.
Only I can see him.
I open a container with cold croquetas and bite into one. “So, you’ve lost your memory, but you still know your name and that you come from another realm,” I say after swallowing, fishing for information. “What else do you remember?”
“I know that I do not hail from your reality. I know I feel a sense of urgency to get home. Yet I am missing the why, where, and how.” He hands me a glass of water to wash down the breaded ball.
“You also know about witches because you accused me of being a bruja,” I point out before sampling another croqueta.
“I know of all species, including your kind,” he says, scrutinizing my expression as I chew, “and I know something is up. You have barely met my eyes tonight. What are you not telling me?”
I can’t help wondering if it wouldn’t be best to come clean now, while I still have the breath to speak. If he ever finds out I buried the book that contains his identity outside, where he can never reach it, he may not give me time to explain myself.
I swallow, hard.
“We’re partners,” I say, stating the obvious as my mind races to decide what I should do. “We have to be able to trust each other.”
My heart pounds harder, and I keep speaking over it, worried the tempo shift will give me away. “But the truth is, I-I’ve broken that trust,” I admit, and when he frowns with suspicion, I blurt, “by touching you without your consent. And I want to apologize for breaking your boundaries.”
He looks stumped for a blink, and then he bursts into laughter, his dazzling smile radiating light like a sunburst. “Shall I apologize for my numerous attempts to eat you?”
I try forcing a chuckle, but his words make my heart go cold. He has no idea how many killings he’s committed in his lifetime.
