My knees buckled.
Henrik shook me, keeping me upright. “Whatareyou?”
Blood poured from my nose and the world tilted sideways, colors bleeding together like paint. My hands were still glowing. Faint blue veins of light spiderwebbed up my arms, charred flesh stinging my nostrils. Pain hit me like a hammer to my bones. I screamed, but only a wet gasp came out.
“She’s dying,” someone said.
Henrik’s grip tightened. “Not yet.”
Their voices echoed strangely, like I was underwater.
“Take her to the Arcanum,” Henrik ordered, shoving me at the guards. “Have the healers see to her immediately, then bring her to me.”
They hauled me between them. My legs dragged over stone, the agony inside me growing as they carried me through the city.
Rheya needed me.
I would find her. Even if I had to burn it all down.
7
NO ONE IS COMING
A dull ache pounded behind my eyes. I lifted my head, and the world tilted.
Rheya.
I jerked upright. “Rheya!”
Everything swam, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut. I tried again, letting my vision adjust. Stone. Cold gray stone engraved with flowing lines that pulsed with blue light.
Where…?
My gaze followed the runes as they traced elegant patterns across arched doorways, their soft glow the only illumination.
The throbbing in my skull made it difficult, but I took in the towering shelves stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, the dark wood packed with books.
Rheya wasn’t here.
Was she alive? Drowned? Captured? The not knowing carved a hole in my chest.
I moved, my hands scraping against bristles. Hemp rope tied my wrists behind a chair. I pulled at the restraints, panic cutting through the fog.
Calm down. Think.
I stopped thrashing. My ankles were bound too, and sensation returned in painful tingles. The room came into sharper focus. Along the back wall, a desk sat beneath a mosaic of runes, their edges inlaid with gold. At its center blazed the symbol of the clergy.
I’m in the Arcanum.
All my life, I’d fantasized about sneaking into this forbidden place. Humans weren’t allowed in, not even to wipe the floors, and fae needed permission to access certain sections.
Footsteps echoed beyond the door. The rune above the handle flared white, and the lock released with a click.
Henrik burst through, the door slamming into the wall. Water dripped from his clothes, pooling at his feet. He tore off his sodden cloak and hurled it on the desk, scattering books to the floor. His silvery gaze locked on me like a blade drawn from its sheath.
“You wretch. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
My throat constricted.
