Eira cringed. She thought she kept the emotion to herself, but the expression must’ve crept onto her face because Noelle leaned in and whispered, “She’s a little too direct, isn’t she?”
“It’ll be fine.” Eira hoped. “Let’s just see what he gives us.”
The Lark took them to the middle of the Archives—three walkways up. There he pointed out an entire section that was dedicated to the construction of Risen. He said, “Most of these are on major buildings—the castle, the Archives themselves…but there are records on other smaller, prominent buildings as well. Most notable families had the same architects as the large city projects.”
“Thank you so much.” Alyss beamed.
“You’re very welcome. The Larks are always pleased to assist in furthering someone’s personal knowledge and betterment.” He gave a small bow and walked away.
An invisible thread pulled on Eira, as though there was a spool at her center, spinning, unfurling the tether being yanked through her chest. Soon, that spool would be empty. It would slip between her fingers. But what was tied at the other end? Eira didn’t know. She grasped the end of the thread on instinct, not ready to give up whatever fate was leading her toward.
“There’s something else,” she said hastily, right before the man started down the stairs. He arched an eyebrow at her. “The… The Archives have all the information in the world, right?”
He gave her a tired smile. “The Archives of Yargen are the greatest single collection of information in the world, yes… But the only one to haveallthe information in the world is Yargen herself. This is merely man’s testament to her honor. To try and keep our own logs of the histories she weaves so that we might learn from them.” He lifted his arms, motioning reverently around him.
“Are there records of births? Deaths?”
“Of important people.”
“Can you show me them?”
“What are you thinking?” Noelle asked.
“You two look here,” Eira said quickly to her friends. “I need to go check something.” She darted over to the man, clutching her hands tightly together. A wave of nausea crashed down on her—Eira might not be free of that particular tide today. But this sickness stemmed solely from nerves and the vast, unknown waters that she found herself adrift in. “Please, take me to them.”
The Lark did, pointing out a whole section of histories two more rows up. There were easily thousands of books, more than she could ever check. Eira bit her lip. At least she knew where they were now in case she ever had the time…or courage.
“If that is all—”
“One last thing,” Eira said with a note of apology. “I promise it’s the last one.” She could tell he was biting back a sigh.
“Yes?”
“Do you have any information on the pirate Adela Lagmir?”
“That would be one rung down, almost exactly beneath us. She has a small shelf dedicated to her among the nautical and wayfaring books.”
“Thank you,” Eira said sincerely. “We really appreciate the help.”
He bowed his head, and left.
Eira stared up at the rows of books as they attempted to dwarf her with the sheer scale of information they possessed. There were too many for her to check. Eira backed away from the bookshelves, bumping into the railing behind her. She grabbed it for support and sighed. Even if she did have the time to hunt through them…it wouldn’t matter.
The people who were in these books were “important people.” They were no doubt kings and queens, great thinkers and poets. Perhaps…Adela’s birth date was scribbled in one of them. She’d achieved enough infamy that it wouldn’t surprise Eira.
But Eira’s name wouldn’t be anywhere within these books…
She had been a no one, abandoned. Even if Adelawasher mother, Adela had clearly gone to great lengths to hide her. And Eira’s parents had named her…not Adela, so her name had no chance to be in any of these books. Eira pushed off the railing and away from the mental void she had been teetering closer and closer to.
Just because she wasn’t important enough for a Lark to transcribe didn’t make her no one. It didn’t make her lesser.
Heading downstairs, Eira quickly located the shelf of Adela’s books below. There were about eight of them in total. An insignificant amount considering the scale of the Archives. But…to think Adela was so important to havethis manydedicated to her. She was important enough to have eight tomes when Eira—and most other people—wouldn’t even have their name scribbled on a line in one.
Her finger hovered at a spine, trembling slightly. What if she actually found the truth? What if she was Adela’s daughter by blood and one of these books confirmed it? What if she wasn’t? What if she still didn’t know? Eira didn’t know which answer would haunt her more…but she knew that being so close and not even trying to look was far worse.
She pulled the first book from the shelf.
Artists’ renderings of theStormfrostilluminated the pages. The sketched lines brought to life the ghostly ship Eira had seen among the dark waves weeks ago with fascinating detail. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes—hadn’t felt the raw magic and its blustering chill from across the ocean—she might not believe the drawings to be anywhere near accurate. They captured the icicles that hung from the deck rails and their brutal tips. On the back of the ship the lines carved out the shapes of windows of some large cabin—Adela’s, Eira would bet. As fascinating as the pictures were, however, they did little to help Eira in her quest to find her parentage. She moved on to another book and found nothing more than records of Adela’s supposed routes and hideaways.
