“She’s the king’s guest.” Thessia’s tone stayed cheerful. “She’ll be staying with us.”
Lioren’s gaze shifted to her. “Wonderful.”
Thessia patted his shoulder, heading for the door. “Try not to bite her.”
The door groaned shut behind her, leaving me alone with the archivist.
Lioren exhaled through his nose. “Rule one, don’t take books outside. You read here. When you’re done, put them back.”
I nodded.
“Two, if a book hums, pulses, or makes you feel likeyou’re about to vomit, close it and walk away. No exceptions.”
“Got it.”
“Three, don’t touch anything in the restricted section.” His eyes sharpened. “The runes won’t kill you, but they’ll make you wish they had.”
I swallowed. “Fine.”
He strode to a lectern with a smooth stone carved with a rune. “Speak the subject you’re looking for, and the shelves will answer.”
I leaned closer. “That’s it?”
Lioren waved at the pedestal. “Go on.”
Feeling ridiculous, I whispered, “Advanced rune magic.”
The rune flashed, and the air hummed. A blue light shimmered in the distance, illuminating a spine on a high shelf. Carefully, I made my way over.
What I really needed was a map.
If I found a layout of the castle, I could work on going home. But searching for maps with Lioren hovering nearby was risky. No matter. He’d let his guard down eventually. In the meantime, I’d study runes. I retrieved the book and brought it to a table.
Countless drawings filled the pages ofAdvanced Rune Magic. Runes I’d never seen before, complete with detailed instructions on how to draw them and the ingredients involved. Gods, these weren’t simple wards the clerics in Skalgard hoarded like precious jewels. This was magic I hadn’t known existed.
Hours passed as I lost myself in the texts. The library had grown quiet, shadows lengthening across the shelves. I flipped through the book, soaking up information. When I’d skimmed throughVolume I,I reached for the second. TheÁlfskeldi rune caught my eye. The description beside it read:
The Álfskeldi rune channels natural elements into raw power. When inscribed with precision and activated with dragon blood, it can summon storms that rage for days, capable of flooding entire valleys or tearing apart armies.
Caution: this rune is notoriously volatile.
One misdrawn line, and the energy it harnesses can turn on its caster, reducing everything in the immediate vicinity to ash. For this reason, Álfskeldi is rarely used, even by the most skilled fae. The elemental forces it binds require both immense skill and unwavering concentration.
I traced the rune’s pattern with my finger, and the page warmed.
“Dragon blood,” I whispered.
Who had access to that? And why would anyone create something designed to kill thousands? I stared at the page, thinking of all the villages that could be drowned, all the families that could be torn apart. Someone created this rune knowing exactly what it would do.
I kept flipping pages, absorbed in descriptions of storm magic and blood runes. The afternoon light had dimmed, casting longer shadows between the shelves.
A book fell somewhere in the distance. I glanced up, expecting Lioren, but the library appeared empty. He must have stepped out.
I returned to my reading, but the feeling of being watched crawled up my spine. The air grew thicker, carrying a scent I couldn’t place. More primal.
“Studying warfare, are we?” a dry voice said.
I turned.
