‘Ezer.’
She paused, her skin burning with the need torunas she looked back up at him. From here, he was backlit by the wardlight, his face cast in shadows. Just as he always was in her dreams. ‘Yes?’
‘What was Zey speaking to you about?’
Something in Ezer’s gut twisted.
‘Lie,’said the wind. It came from nowhere, whispering past her ears.
‘The war eagles,’ Ezer said, her fingers curling around the golden railing. ‘I was simply picking her brain about them. I figured … maybe it would help me with Six.’
He seemed to study her face, searching for the lie.
Her eyes went to the dagger on his hip. ‘Is that all?’
He nodded. ‘I expect you in the Aviary at dawn. You’re dismissed.’
She turned, and exited the library as fast as she could, and by the time she made it to her dorm, she was shivering. Zey was already snoring, cradling her wounded hand.
Ezer stared at her for a moment, remembering her warning.
If they ask you to take their vows …
Don’t.
She fell asleep clutching her mother’s ring, hoping the wind would protect her, watch over her, until morning.
15
The moment she fell asleep, the strange, new labyrinth was waiting.
‘Not again,’ Ezer said, her breath forming before her in a thick cloud.
She’d never dreamt of this space before arriving in the north.
She found herself standing in the same entry spot, the sword in one hand, a torch in the other, the circular mouths of tunnels, all around.
The shadowed figure was here somewhere in the winding darkness.
The wind whistled. Here it was like it lived and thrived, and she swore it whispered her name.
‘Ezer.’
This time, it came from the tunnel to her left.
‘If you’re to say my name so constantly,’ Ezer whispered, ‘at least give me an indication as to why. And what you’re leading me towards.’
It was icy cold as it whistled past her tangled hair again, pushing her towards the tunnel to the left. A beckoning, if there ever was one.
She dipped her torch into the oil-lined ridge on the wall, expecting a living shadow, a monster, to be waiting for her at the farthest end.
But there were only doors.
Countless doors, just like the last tunnel. They each held the same ancient plaques beside them. The same strange symbols.
She paused to touch one, reaching out her hand.
But the wind suddenly whistled again, kicking up the folds of her cloak as if it were insistent that she keep on walking.
