“Knowledge can be a deadlier enemy than one with a sword at your neck, sister. And do not forget that Sable’s magic is more feared than yours. Not many wish to fight death.”
I pout. Everett’s right. Father loves Sable’s death magic.
Everett stands taller.“The most successful hunter doesn’t chase their prey. They observe. They notice the details. They spot the telltale clues. They know where to go, when to strike, and how to get to the finish line first, Selene.”
He wipes the tears off my cheeks.“What section of the library has Sable been visiting?” His chest leans closer. His face is graver and sculpted; the demands of adulthood are carving out his youth.
“The catacombs. She…”
“She what?” he presses.
I’d rather not discuss this with my brother. I look down at his boots.“She sleeps with others there.”
“Who?”
“Who is she sleeping with?” I cringe.“This month, it happens to be a visiting mage.”
“A mage.” His gulp is deep and loud.“What kingdom is this mage from?”
“He has no kingdom. He’s devoted himself to The Great Library of Ishmor.” Ishmor is an island where the history of our world is housed in the greatest library; some say the gods helped build it.
“Every soul claims a kingdom, Selene; sometimes that kingdom is known, other times it’s a selfish dream of a crown they wish to hold, but make no mistake, none of us are so nobleto walk these lands without a thirst for acceptance. Even those who toil in Ishmor labor towards a cause. They all report to someone.”
“You think this mage is reporting back to someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” I question. Who in Ishmor wants to know what my sister is doing?
Everett arches a brow.“Turn the tables, Selene. The mage is working for Sable.”
“Sable?” I repeat.“Sable has no power to command a spy.”
“That is where you are wrong, my dearest sister. Those we overlook hide for a reason; they pull the strings. Sable is skilled at creating lies. Do you know what lies cover up, Selene?” He tips my chin up.“Terrible, awful truths.” He cups my cheek.“Now I know where she is getting her knowledge. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
Everett leaves without telling me more. I know he’s trying to protect me by keeping me in the dark, but it’s in the dark that monsters lurk.
That old memory blankets my skin like a dress that is too tight. One week later, the catacombs caught fire. My father didn’t know I saw my brother sneaking down there. Just before smoke poured from the staircase, Everett departed with some tomes and scrolls. The aged parchment appeared fragile, ready to tear if unwound.
What books did he collect?
What was in those scrolls?
Why did I never press?
That’s why you trusted me, Everett. I didn’t push. I waited until you confessed.
I regret that now.
“Why do you take all the blame? Sable is at fault, too,” Titus questions.
“What?” I blink. I forgot where I was. My gilded cage surrounds us. Art hides the evil within the black walls. A gentle wind from my balcony cools my forehead. I peer outside as I turn my head. The floor is haunted by shadows from the skeleton tower Galen made me. The air smells too much like flowers here. I miss Solaria. The dense, humid, salty notes of the forest that framed the mountain range we call The Cradle of Darkness. The aroma always roused me from sleep. The Cradle’s secrets made my nightmares seem like pleasant dreams.
“Why do you not fault Sable? Her tongue is just as wicked.”
“We’re twins. The same.”
“Same?” Titus scoffs. “Coins share the same mold, but look closely and you’ll spot the difference. Pressure shapes us in ways the surface doesn’t show. You and Sable might’ve been cast in the same fire, but you are not identical images of one another.”
