“Who are you talking to?” Zadyn asks.
“The book. The book was talking to me.”
Zadyn and Eaton exchange a look.
“This is incredible. Can you feel that?”
Zadyn’s chest brushes my back as he grazes the page with his index finger. “It’s magnetic.”
You come seeking answers.
Yes.
They will be yours, my Queen. You need only ask the right questions.
Is there a way to close the portal?
I’m met with silence.
Show me,I press.
In answer, the book slams itself shut.
Rude.
“Okay.” I roll my neck. “Let’s try this again.”
Show me something useful. How can we defeat our enemy?
A beat passes.Then the pages begin to flip, landing on a passage I can scarcely read. A drawing occupies most of the page—silver linesconnected by dots, creating an interesting shape across the parchment like some kind of zodiac constellation.
I gloss over the scribbled words that look like they’d been written with thoughtless haste. “What is this language? Is this Ancient Fae?”
Zadyn reads over my shoulder. “Some of it, but there are a lot of words here I don’t recognize.”
“Do you think you can interpret it?” I ask Eaton.
“May take me a few days, but I’ll do my damndest.”
“What did the book say to you, Serena?”
I swallow before answering Zadyn. “It told me our answers are in here—that I just need to ask the right questions.”
“I’m sure this thing is full of valuable information. Besides. It technically belongs to you,” Eaton points out.
And as the book hums in approval, I can tell that it agrees.
We spendthe next two days surrounded by towering mahogany shelves, scouring the library for any sort of lead. Eaton works on interpreting the passage, comparing it to other lost languages while we read up on spells and enchantments to offer any kind of solution, temporary or otherwise. But nothing we find can draw on enough energy to manipulate the portal.
“I think I’ve got some of this worked out.”
“What have you got?” I move around the table, peering over Eaton’s shoulder.
“It’s some kind of spell. Well, more like notes on a spell. But it’s confusing. A bunch of gibberish. It’s like trying to solve an equation with numbers you’ve never even heard of.”
“Does it say anything about the portal?”
“No.” I frown as Eaton continues, “It’s all coordinates and random notes. There are pages of them here.” He flips onto the next one. “I can’t quite figure out what they were attempting to do, but whoever wrote this was very interested in astrology.” His finger plops down onthe sketch weaving between the words. “This constellation in particular.”
