I tried to stay close to Ziven and avoid Renel’s odd icy stare. At least once we got to the library, Renel found a large pile of books, and now he’s focused on perusing them as if nothing else existed in the world. He got most of the Tiurian books, and Iwonder how much Astra would love to find out what’s in them. I walk to the bookshelves, searching for history books, and take one about the Shadow War.
Ziven is reading about fae magic, while Mirella’s checking another history book. I open the large volume in front of me and realize it’s a translation, with Tiurian words side by side with the common language. Some sentences sound odd in the translation, but I can understand them.
It mentions something called the Tiurian Schism. Tiuris had a king who wasn’t supported by a large part of the population. I keep reading to see if it’s the Witch King, stumbling a little on some hard-to-read passages. There could be something useful here, and then, perhaps not. I wonder if we’ll even find something in just one night. This type of research should take weeks to be done properly, but I don’t think we have that time, nor do I think Queen Berta wants us here for such a long period.
I keep reading, trying to skim through parts where it veers into tangents, trying to brush away the dread in my chest, the fear that perhaps this research could be useless.
Across from me, on the other end of the table, Renel is restless, opening and closing books, then sighing. Finally, he gets up.
“What is it?” Ziven asks.
Renel shakes his head and points at his pile of books. “It’s not here. It’s some kind of… dark magic. They wouldn’t leave it out in the open like that.” He looks at me. “Tarlia, can you help me here for a moment?” His voice is still cold, and he sounds like a pretentious king—or acting king.
I should tell him I’m busy reading my book, but my curiosity is bigger than my self respect and makes me get up and follow him. He leads me to the corner of the library, between the shelf and a stone wall.
The low ceiling make me feel out of air for a moment.
He points at the wall. “See here? There could be something.”
I nod, unsure why he asked me to come, and he proceeds to crouch and tap the wall softly, I suppose to search for a secret compartment or for a way to open it.
I’m almost asking if he needs any help, when he gets up, pinning me down with his stare.
“Are you upset? That I named you?”
Is he expecting me to cry? To whine? To complain? I won’t give him that pleasure. I blink. “Why would I be upset?”
His shoulders shrink. “Maybe… you didn’t understand why I did it.”
I chuckle and shrug. “You had to give a name. And it wasn’t as if she was really going to drop one of us.” My tone is light even if a chill runs up my spine as I recall that moment when my life was suspended by a thin rope.
He tilts his head. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what she was going to do.”
I can’t help but frown. Does he think his explanation makes it any better? “Why are you telling me that?” I snap.
“Are you upset?” he asks again.
“No.” I don’t even try to hide the annoyance in my voice.
He stares at me for a long moment, then crouches again and taps on the stone, moving with determination and ease as if he’d done this a thousand times. Focused like that, he’s achingly beautiful, which only stirs something angry and dark in my chest, some strange flame I’ll have to quench. Still, as much as I’m annoyed at him, I can’t help but watch the way he feels the wall, can’t help but wish for him to peer it open and unveil its secrets.
Eventually, there’s a click, and he pulls a stone to reveal a compartment with some twenty books. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow, as if saying,See? I told you.
“How did you know?” I ask, my curiosity temporarily replacing my anger.
“Just figured it made sense. You don’t usually leave dark magic books where anyone can find them. They can be dangerous.”
He pulls the smallest book from there—a simple black thing with a worn cover—and ignores the flashy, thick, dangerous-looking volumes. There’s a huge book with some carved skulls on the spine, which I think I’d pick first, but I bet he thinks they wouldn’t place such a gaudy cover on a secret book.
He points at the shelves. “Do you want to check any of them?”
For some reason, even the sight of those books spooks me. “No. I have plenty to read at the table.”
“That’s how you know they have dark magic. They feel… disgusting or repulsive—at least for most people. Some fae, on the other hand, are drawn to them.”
“Which one are you?”
“Both. Naturally repulsed, but… fascinated with them as a study subject.”
