I press my temple, trying to ease the pressure that has been building there. Is the witch, right? Can I only trust Caspien? I realize that doesn’t entirely fit. Obviously, I trust Ophe. And could Cillian really be deceiving me? Have I been completely blinded by our past and his pretty face? Okay, it’s more than pretty, but that just makes it worse.
I heave a sigh.
And the helper in Ophe kicks in. “Okay, so if we believe the witch—which at the moment let’s say we do—then your first step is to figure out what this prophecy is. And you can’t trustanyone. I wouldn’t even trust Caspien. There are just too many variables.”
For the next hour, Ophe and I make a plan.
Chapter
Twenty
NISSA
Iwake up before daybreak with a new resolve. I’ll jump through whatever hoops Isolde demands, but my main goal is to find a prophecy that talks about a “mirrored princess.”
I slip out of my room before the servants even arrive to wake me. Inside the Royal Archives, I’m greeted with the warmth of the fires that burn through the long, narrow room. It’s been over a decade since I’ve been in here, and I stop in the doorway to appreciate the room’s beauty.
The ceiling’s domed windows send streams of light shafting throughout the space as the sun rises to start the day. The bookshelves stretch two stories, and the wall on one side of the room has been built around an ancient tree. Its trunk has grown into a staircase to the second floor, its massive limbs creating walkways around the high shelves where most of the books are stored.
On the first floor, four seating areas are spread out down the center of the long room. Each of the four sections has chairs surrounding a large copper bowl. Each bowl showcases an individual element—a roaring fire, a stunning water feature, an artistic display of leaves, feathers, and petals caught in an ever changing wind. The final bowl is filled with moving flowers andvines, their colors and shape changing and shifting, like dancing foliage.
I remember the display of elements being grander. Maybe it’s that I’m not a youngling anymore. Maybe it’s the failing energy.
I step inside, and the great doors whoosh closed behind me. I jump, even more startled when I realize two golden eyes are staring straight at me through the flames rising from the fire element vessel.
I watch for a few breaths. I can’t make out a body through the flames, but whatever it is it seems small. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. I swallow and take another slow step forward. “Hello?” I say tentatively.
Unmoving, the creature blinks as it regards me. Then the tiny white and gold head of a dryrd pops out from the side of the flames. The tousled feathers on the top of the little head bob.
“Well, hi there, handsome.” I giggle, and his eyes light up. “What are you doing here?”
The little guy makes his way around the lip of the flaming display. Sitting back on his golden, scaled haunches, he wraps his tail around himself and looks up at me.
Getting down on my knees, I smile at his sweet little features that are analyzing me. “Can I touch you?” I ask, lifting my hand up to him and waiting.
Dryrds are notoriously skittish creatures, but so far nothing about this one seems shy. They are a hybrid species of the long-extinct dragons and the wild birds of the human world. I’ve never been so close to one.
The creature regards me for just a moment before blowing warm air from his white leathery snout and lowering his head towards me. The corners of my mouth lift as I use the back of my knuckle to stroke the soft feathers that start at the top of his head right before his golden spikes fall down his back. On the second stroke down his back, he lifts onto all fours and stretcheshis golden-lined, webbed wings away from his body. I pull my hand back slightly, but he pushes his head into me, nuzzling me to continue.
“Do you like that?” I gently scratch right between his wings and am answered with a contented rumble. I give him one more little pat. “Unfortunately, I need to look for a book,” I say, pulling my hand back.
The archive is well maintained, not a speck of dust to be found, the smell of old paper surprisingly absent.
I glance above at the rows of shelves, then search around me for any type of index or recordkeeping system that could help me find the information I need. Not finding anything obvious, I climb the tree staircase, wandering aimlessly until I see the tiny dryrd’s reptilian eyes staring at me from the shelf right in front of my face.
“Back for more?” I chuckle, reaching up and scratching the side of his neck. His eyes shut. “Any chance you know where the books on Fae prophecies are?” I joke.
His eyes open and regard me for a moment before he takes a few steps and jumps to the wide branch. He scuttles along the bottom of a few shelves before pausing and looking back at me as if waiting for me to follow.
My eyebrows come together as he huffs. “Really?” I mumble.
He leads me up around the second floor, climbing and hopping between the shelves until he lands on one and stares at me.
I study the titles:The Gemini Sisters: An Account of the New Worlds and the Goddesses that Created Them…Pantheon of the Past…The Song of the Elements: Prophecies of Fire, Water, Wind and Earth…
On and on they go. Book after book about Fae history. Recounts of our time in the human world, creation of the new worlds, andpropheciesfrom Gaia.
“You may be the best thing that’s happened to me since I moved in here,” I say, lifting my hand up to the little dryrd.
