Prince Charming Must Die

28. Craven Images

Sections of Cornell Castle, though constructed of stone and wood and metal, seemed to have breath and a voice and even a heartbeat. Walking these corridors, Ashley couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been swallowed by a stony, iron-hearted monster.

For the trip to Borin's office, Ashley wore the warmest gown she could find in the Vault, wool fingerless gloves, and several layers of woolen socks inside her slippers. They hushed over the stone floor, stealthy as snakes.

A tangle of cobwebs, sagging from the rafters like shredded lace, brushed against her head. Goosebumps prickled along her arms, and cold fear slid down her neck. Perhaps she should've brought someone with her. Last time she walked these passages, she'd had Chomperz along to divert her attention away from the weird drippy walls and rusted suits of armor, whose hollow eyes seemed to follow her.

But too late for regrets. Ashley had only half an hour till supper, and she needed to arrive on time; for if there were spies in the castle in contact with Charming, she couldn't risk anyone reporting that his princess was acting strangely.

Though the hall was surrounded by rock, a howling gust of wind ruffled through her hair and stirred her skirts. There must've been an opening to the outside somewhere further along. Still, Ashley thought the Ghost of Cornell Castle hung out here. The place screamed, "GHOST!" Like if there was a ghost playground or a ghost resort, what more could the corporally-challenged ask for than a dimly-lit, moist, stone hallway, where ghostly moans could easily be mistaken for the wind.

Where no one could hear a person's screams.

Ashley shook her head and rubbed her arms. This line of thinking was ridiculous—all of it was only her imagination. Castles do not eat people. Why would they? They've no need for nutrition. And a scrawny princess wouldn't make a satisfying snack anyway. And what ill damage could a ghost do without physical means?

Finally, she approached the door to Borin's office. It was locked from top to bottom with a series of rusty, mismatched hasps, latches, and bolts.

She examined each one, running her fingers along the various keyholes. No problem. Removing two pins from her hair, Ashley got to work on lockpicking. With each tumbler she conquered, her lungs expanded with satisfaction. Her success at this simple task gave her confidence that Ashley hadn't experienced in a while. Instead, lately, she had taken on impossible tasks like leading vengeful expeditions, outwitting witches, flying cranky unicorns, and discerning an oyster fork from a lobster fork. All this took a toll on a person.

The final lock clicked. Holding her breath, Ashley nudged the door open, cringing at the sound from the old iron hinges creaking through the quiet hall like an old witch's bones.

The Seneschal's office smelled like dust and mildew, ink, and rot. The only light came from a narrow slit in the far side of the room.

There was little ornamentation other than a stuffed raven perched on a rafter, its cold black marbled eyes sending shivers up Ashley's spine. A large desk topped with an inkpot, quills, and a miniature guillotine beside a basket of rotting apples sat at the far end.

Behind the desk lurked a twelve-foot tall bookcase, stuffed full of what must have been the accounting records of the realm. She knew this because embossed along each spine were the words EVER AFTER ACCOUNTING RECORDS and a date.

Holding her breath, Ashley pulled the most current volume from the case. Despite being the most recent, it still smelled old. Its yellow parchment curled at the edges. Ashley sat at the desk and opened it to the first page.

The first half of the book listed taxes by the name of each royal subject. Sometimes they were paid in gold, sometimes silver, sometimes with livestock or produce. Some were not paid at all. These people had a royal decree of punishment next to their entries. Penalties were paid either in prison time or in free labor. Ashley's heart sunk when she saw the number of people unable to pay their taxes.