“Something ancient,” he says, answering my first question. Hadrik walks towards one of the flames, which I realize is actually a small torch affixed to a pillar. He grabs one, gesturing for me to take the other. “These are spelled not to burn you,” he explains, wiggling his fingers right over his flame to demonstrate. “To your left, there will be a wooden trough attached to the wall. Put the flame down in it.”
I turn at the same time he does, each of us moving in opposite directions as I walk the expanse of the room to the other side. Using the light cast by the flame, I find the trough and set the torch down. Within seconds, the flamespreads. It moves forward, lighting up the wall as it continues for a few feet before dropping down out of view.
Hadrik’s steps towards me echo out against the rough stone as he makes his way back to me, the same trail of fire lit on his side. Together we walk forward, the golden glow of the flames descending down the length of a long staircase, giving light to the steps and expansive space that lies beyond them.
“Welcome to the archives,” he says reverently at my side. “Here, take this.” I look at his proffered hand and the key that rests upon it, my gaze then lifting to his. “When you are finished, return the torches to the pillars, and the flames will extinguish. You will need the key to leave, but there is no magical exchange that takes place in order to exit.”
“You’re not staying?”
“I shouldn’t. Kallin has had his eyes on your familyfartoo closely for my liking. I want to make sure he doesn’t realize youare somewhere you shouldn’t be. Even with much of his focus on your brother.”
I nod, even as my stomach twists. Nox had been dumped on the palace steps nearly a week after his departure to the Mortal Kingdom. It had been a shock for the guard who found him on his morning patrol of the grounds, and even more so for our family when the healers told us of his condition.
My brother had always been the strongest amongst us, but they said his magic is still depleted and his body weakened to the point that even sitting up causes his chest to heave. Perhaps my anxiety and questions surrounding him would be remedied by speaking to him, but the council decided to station guards outside of Nox’s room. All of them with the directive to notletanyonein. Given Kallin’s propensity to find my family at fault for everything lately, Hadrik is right to not give them something else to suspect us of.
“Thank you, Hadrik. For your help.”
He smiles at me before turning for the exit. “Always, Your Highness. Be mindful of your time in here. It’s easy for it to pass more quickly than you realize.” He freezes halfway out the door, leaning away from it as he meets my eyes again. “If you walk far enough back, you’ll find the owner of that peculiar smell.” His departure is marked by the locking of the door, an unnatural silence settling over me as I slip the key into my pocket.
“That wasn’t at all an ominous fucking thing to say,” I murmur, pausing to wait and see if anyone—anything—will answer. When nothing does, I release an exaggerated exhale and curse my unbridled curiosity as I begin to descend the steps.
For a massive room filled with thousands of items that’s rarely ever visited, it’s surprisingly tidy. Bookcases carved into thewalls house more than just tomes—though the sheer number of volumes had me cursing out loud and then immediately hoping some ancient being didn’t smite me for it. Something about this place, whether its ancient origins or something more, has me looking over my shoulder quite often, the feeling of being watched making my skin crawl.
Trinkets and carvings of every type act as bookends; some are clustered together as if their owner couldn’t be bothered to do anything but dump them there, while others are neatly filed away row by row. The juxtaposition of the two tugs at my lips as I think about a past king or queen coming here to preserve a part of their history. I wonder if my father might place something here, if Nox will. Though I’m unsure if the latter harbors an interest in the throne anymore.
Eyeing one long wall of books, I sigh as I start at the first bookcase, reaching up on my toes to grab the very first book in the highest corner. I spend what feels like no short amount of time thumbing through the pages of multiple books, looking for mentions of blood magic or even of the Spell. Yet, for as ancient as these books are, they don’t have mention ofeither. I look back up at the bookcase, and bite back a groan when I realize I’ve only made my way throughtwofucking shelves.
“There has to be a better way.”
Stepping back from the wall of books, I scan it thoroughly, attempting to guess how it might be organized. I’ve found that most are less like factual texts and more like personal accounts. The coronation of a new queen, a new trade deal with another kingdom. While interesting enough on their own, they aren’t the type of information Ineedright now. Spinning in place, I eye the equally long wall of books on the other side of the room.Damn it. I might die from old age before Ieverfind anything relating to the experimentation with blood. And though the two scouts Arav selected to gather information for me in the small towns liningour border have already left, I would still like to gather as much information about the formation of the Spell as I can while I wait the weeks it will take for their return.
It seemsbothfeats are impossible.
“If you were a book about blood and magic,” I murmur to myself, walking towards the center of the room where tables hold every manner of artifact, “where would you be?” My fingers drag over a dagger, its jeweled hilt indicating its decorative use. In fact, most of the items here look more ornate than useful, blending together metals and gems in ways that make them gleam but render them wholly impractical.
Beyond the tables, larger than life statues loom, the details so intricate that I shiver at the feeling that some watch me as I move. Most of the statues are female, some even carved with diadems on their heads. While most shine in white marble or gilded metals, a few of the statues are made of an entirely different stone, the glossy black surface of it making me itch to run my fingers along it. Dragon stone was one of the most beautiful materials to carve, showcasing the curves of the subject as easily as it shows the finer details like eyes and lips. My skin prickles as I near those, the flames playing over them in a way that almost makes them glowwhiteat their centers.
I continue down the length of the room, rummaging lightly through the items on top of the tables when athumprends the air. My hand automatically reaches for my spear, but it would have been suspicious if I was walking anywhere except to the training grounds with the weapon, so I left it back in my room. A choice I hope I don’t come to regret.
Seeing a thin blade on the table in front of me—dragon stone hilt with slightly curved steel blade—I reach out and grab it, turning my back to the tables as I face the noise. Patting the key in my pocket, I breathe a sigh of relief, only for another breath to immediately tighten my chest. As far as I know, there is onlyonekey available to the archives. If the noise didn’t come from someoneoutsidecomingin, then there is someone alreadyhere.
Panic floods through my veins for a few seconds before I lock into my training, my body following suit as I bend my knees to keep my steps light and hold my dagger out in front of me, the blade almost parallel to my forearm.
The center walkway is long, and though my steps are quiet, the persistent beating of my heart is loud in my ears, my eyes glancing from side to side. When I finally reach the end, the flames on either side of me flicker, growing dimmer as if to shroud this part of the archives in shadows.Great, Hadrik was right. The magic hereissentient, and it’s fucking with me.
My next inhale is a struggle, my stomach urging me to gag as nausea burns the back of my throat. The smell isworsehere, and gods above, I can practicallytastethe rotten stench. Something definitely died back here, and I swear that if Hadrik knew that and wanted me to see a dead rat or something equally as disgusting, Iwillpunch the old man square in the face.
Continuing forward, I lift my arm higher in a defensive position, keeping my steps quiet. After a few more feet, the pathway hooks to the right, the flames following suit and guiding me into a different room, this one darker than the rest as the light dwindles down to barely that of a candle. Anotherthumpsounds, this time from behind me, and though my shoulders hike, I’m too focused on what I see ahead of me to turn around. Because I sincerely doubt that whatever ghost or being trying to scare me from behind is more impressive than the creature laid out in front of me. Adragon. A half-decayed one, but a dragon nonetheless.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, leaning forward as I stare at the dead beast.
It looks as if it’s been dropped from the sky right in this very spot, legs sprawled out from its body while its wings drape outto the sides. Half of its body glows a light gray color, the magicglitteringlike it had around the entrance to the archives. Almost as if the magic is fading, as if there might have been enough at one point, but now time has begun to take parts of it, leaving only felled black scales and white bone to shine beneath the meager flames. Still, even as half a corpse, the dragon cannot be described as anything other thanmagnificent. And it makes absolutelynosense that it is here. In a room deep beneath the palace, in a kingdom not its own.
I allow myself another few moments to ogle it, sure I’ll never again get to see such a creature up close, before I retreat towards the main room. Rounding the curve back, my eyes catch on something lying on the floor that wasn’t there before. Positioning my borrowed dagger once more in front of me, I approach it carefully before squatting down and retrieving a leather-bound book that bears no title. There’s no identifier, nothing beyond a small sun and moon stamped into the leather at the bottom right corner.
Glancing side to side, I take note of the distance between the bookcases and where this book lies, unease once more pressing at my back. Standing, I return my weapon to the table I swiped it from and lay the book down, turning to the first page. Though there are no visible signs of aging—likely spelled by the magic of this place—I can tell this book is old simply by the language used. Not just old, butancient. It speaks of a Void queen who I know from the history books had ruledat leasttwo thousand years prior.
I turn the pages, my eyes scanning them quickly as I temper my excitement, only to a phrase that makes me gasp.
