The Way We Fall

Chapter 65 (Roche)

Verita woke Roche early in the morning, well before the sun rose. The librarian laid out two bowls of thick, unseasoned gruel that Roche obediently gulped down as she pored over the spellbook.

"It says here that the enchantment isn't difficult to break," Roche said once Verita slipped into the seat across from her and began to eat. "The fake Harold is invulnerable to any physical attacks until the real Harold manages to touch him. Upon contact, fake Harold will be vulnerable to attack, like any mortal man."

Verita swallowed her bite with a frown. "And I assume you intend to go and find the real Harold?" Roche nodded eagerly, and Verita sighed, "Then you must be sure this is actually the enchantment that was used. If you're wrong, you'll be wasting precious time trying to track down a person that doesn't exist."

That... was a good point. Roche conceded with a grimace. "How do we figure that out?"

Verita grabbed the spellbook, tugging it towards her carefully so that the delicate cover didn't snag on the rough grain of the table. She flipped through a few more pages, scanning the text with familiarity. She finally found what she was looking for and spun the book towards Roche.

"Leinos and I can chemically confirm this with a few potions. All we need is some of fake Harold's DNA. Blood, hair, skin, nails, saliva, anything that's easy to obtain."

Roche blinked at her, dumbfounded. "How is saliva easy to obtain?"

Verita rolled her eyes. "Well, are any of them easy to obtain?"

"Easy," Roche replied, leaning over the table conspiratorially, "I'll sneak into his chambers and get some hair from his hairbrush."

Verita's frown deepens. "He might not own one. His hair is rather short."

"He styles it." Roche replied, even though she was feeling less confident by the minute, "It never moves during training."

"You have short hair too," Verita narrowed her eyes, "Do you own a hairbrush?"

"No." Roche admitted, most of her confidence draining away. Verita rolled her eyes and Roche sighed in defeat. "Okay, so it's a bit of a gamble. But it's a necessary one."

Verita's lips pressed together. "If you can't get his hair, you'll need to find something else. I'll have Leinos' equipment set up and ready. Come by once you get it." The old librarian stood, gathering their empty bowls. Roche nodded her thanks, popping to her feet.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." she promised, grabbing her bag.

"Roche?"

Roche turned. Verita's hawkish dark eyes flashed in indecipherable emotion. The librarian clutched the bowls tightly in a white knuckled grip.

"Just... be careful." with a wry twist of her lips, she added, "Your mother would skin me alive if anything happened to you."

Roche chuckled, feeling an unexpected rush of warmth fill her chest. "Woe are you if that day ever comes." she replied, gleefully noting Verita's soft, genuine smile as she ducked out the door.

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"You ate one of the pastries." Tigris growled as Roche carefully wove the princess' washed out reddish hair into an artful but secure braid. She twisted the strands in a way that revealed the golden and brown undertones, forming a radiant blend.

"I did not." Roche muttered around a mouthful of hairpins. Tigris narrowed her eyes.

"This one has a bite mark in it."

"Let me see?" Roche asked, removing the pins from her mouth. She pretended to scrutinize the pastry. "No, I don't see anything wrong." she replied. And it was true. She hadn't eaten that pastry.