She shook her head, trying to scare away the ghosts, only mildly successful. “I’m fine, I don’t need to talk about it.”
“Eira—”
“I said I’m fine.” She jerked her hand away from Alyss. “If I say I’m fine then I mean it. If you’re really my friend that’ll be good enough for you.”
The remark wounded Alyss. Her friend tried not to show it. But Eira had known her long enough, and well enough, to know a forced smile when she saw one. It was thinner, weaker, and didn’t even come close to touching Alyss’s eyes. Eyes that were now steeped in hurt.
“You know I’m your friend. That’s why I’m worrying about you.”
“I know. I…I’m sorry.” Eira shook her head and put her back to Alyss. “I need some space, please.”
Alyss didn’t follow her down the walkway.
It hadn’t been how Eira had intended to lose Alyss and break away on her own. But it was effective. She should be happy; she had the time and space now to find this hidden passage. However, the guilt Mister Levit’s kind words had put in her now had company with how she’d treated Alyss.
Eira stalked up the stairs, walking as silently as possible. She clung to the bookcases, out of sight of those below. She paused at the entrance to the Larks’ wing, listening closely. The air was still and the only sounds were the occasional clanking of armor as the Swords patrolled the lower floors.
With a wave of her hand, Eira summoned a curtain of illusion and drew it around her. If anyone looked on, all they would see was the bookshelf, Eira rendered invisible. She held the illusion in place with her right hand and pressed her left against the wood. A crackle of frost raced out from between her fingers and Eira closed her eyes.
She should thank Ducot. Without him forcing her to walk in the dark, she wouldn’t have uncovered this little trick with her magic. Eira feltthroughthe ice. She felt its broad plane and where it seeped into a crack, curving around to the backside of the bookcase. Sure enough, it was hollow.
Pulling her hand and her magic back, Eira pressed on the wood, feeling for grooves. It popped open under her fingers. She quickly scrambled inside, closing it behind her with a fraying leather strap.
Plunged into darkness, Eira immediately pressed a hand over her mouth as a wave of nausea assaulted her. Shudders wracked her body as the walls threatened to close around her. At least last night she’d had Ducot. Even in mole form, he’d been encouraging her onward.
Now, she was stuck in place. She was drowning while gasping lungfuls of air. It was Alyss’s fault. Eira cursed under her breath. Alyss had been the one who put these thoughts in her mind. She’d been the one who dredged up thoughts of Marcus from the abyss. Now those memories threatened to pull her under.
Violently shaking her head, Eira pressed her hand against the wall and pushed herself up. She had to keep moving. She was doing this, all of this, for her brother—to avenge him. She’d let him down in that lake. She couldn’t let him down now. He was counting on her.
Eira made her way slowly upward. She wondered if the early members of the Court of Shadows had helped build this structure and knew to hide passages. How far back did the influence of the organization reach? What else did they have their hand in?
Eventually, after what felt like hours of climbing up and up in the darkness, Eira reached a ladder. With frost-covered fingers, she climbed, slowly feeling the passage narrow around her before opening again to a small landing. Pale light filtered in through a doorway.
A man stood alone in an empty room, his back to the door, hands folded behind him. Yet, she knew him from the wave of his hair. The way he held himself. The way the whole world seemed to hold its breath for him and only him. As if fate itself hovered in the air over his shoulder.
“It’s you,” Eira whispered, and he turned, meeting her with brilliant emerald eyes Eira had last seen in her dreams.
7
Two years ago, Eira’s uncles had dared to take her into “polite society.” It had only been a year since the incident, so the memories of what she’d done were fresh in the minds of the nobles and the senators who’d tried to lock her away. But it was a risk they’d decided to take nevertheless. She had been “very good” and “very remorseful” for that first year. She had done everything they’d asked, just like she had always been taught—as had always been expected of her. It had been her birthday. She’d just turned fifteen.
They’d made the rules very clear…and they’d brought her to a winter’s ball to see the announcement of the crown princess’s engagement to the Voice of Yargen.
That night, she’d laid eyes on Taavin for the first time. He was the first elfin she’d ever seen. Perhaps she did have girlish fantasies surrounding him for a time following. But, more than that, when she had laid eyes on him she had immediately known she was destined to leave Solaris. Meeting him, even if for just a few brief seconds, had forever changed the course of her life.
Now, she stood before him again.
“You must be the new shadow,” he said with a sigh of relief. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to make it. The Head Specter said you were still learning how to navigate Risen.”
The Head Specter was Deneya. New shadow? Did that mean she was already in the Court of Shadows? Likely not. Deneya had probably not wanted to admit that she was sending an initiate to perform such an important task as meeting in secret with the Voice of Yargen.
“I-I am,” she stammered. Just like the last time she’d seen him, all words failed her.
“Here, I don’t have much time. They’ll begin wondering if I don’t get back soon.” Taavin crossed the room and held out a small, wrapped parcel. It wasn’t much larger than her palm and Eira took it reverently with both hands. Underneath the parchment was some kind of sturdy box. But what it contained was clearly not meant for her eyes. He hesitated, not letting go. “You’re human…and you’re wearing clothes in Solaris fashion.”
“I’m from the Solaris Empire,” Eira blurted. A grin crept across his lips, eliciting a flush that rose up her neck. “I shouldn’t have said that, huh?”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Shadows should be like their namesake—known but not heeded, clinging to corners, as unidentifiable as the last, and silent.” The words could’ve been scolding, yet he wore a smile. “Luckily, I’m a friend, and, don’t worry, I won’t tell.”
