Her stomach dropped. She snapped her eyes open and shoved the journal back into place, fingers clumsy in her haste, nearly sending another book tumbling from the shelf. The steps drew closer, joined by the low murmur of a voice. Her pulse spiked.
Shit.
Elara jumped to her feet, wiping her damp palms on her trousers as she grabbed the nearest book from the shelf. She barely registered the title as she hurried toward the front, forcing herself to breathe.
Act natural. You weren’t doing anything wrong.
Nothing at all.
Then she rounded the corner—and stopped short, breath catching.
Sybil.
The girl quirked a brow at Elara just as the Hunter stepped in behind her, his expression tightening into something long-suffering, as if he were reevaluating every decision that had led him here.
“Well, look who it is,” Sybil drawled, eyes narrowing as she tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “She looks like she’s ready to bolt any second. Or is that just your usual effect on people?” Her gaze flicked up to the Hunter, teasing.
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Sybil’s here to help us with the translation issue. I thought her unconventional approaches might help us look at it from a different angle.”
Elara nodded, though her focus drifted back to Sybil, who crossed her arms. “Not without what we discussed first, cousin.”
The corners of the Hunter's mouth thinned. “Of course.”
Without another word, he slipped into the stacks, his footsteps barely a whisper in the quiet of the library. Elara shifted on her feet, curiosity prickling at her as she watched him return moments later, a small leather-bound book in hand. It looked ancient, its edges worn and cracked, as if it had survived countless hands.
Sybil’s eyes lit up as she took the book from him. “Perfect,” she said, flipping through the brittle pages, her eyes scanning quickly before she snapped it shut with a thud.
Elara’s fingers twitched. She was desperate to know what was in that book, but the Hunter and Sybil were already moving toward the front of the library. She hesitated, then followed, her thoughts buzzing.
At the desk, the Hunter warmed the cold pot of tea with a flick of his hand and began explaining their problem to Sybil. Elara barely listened, watching his hands instead as he poured a cup, added honey, a splash of milk, and stirred.
Without missing a beat, he handed the tea to her, eyes still on Sybil.
Elara stared down at the cup, watching soft spirals of steam curl up toward her face. Then she took a sip.
Perfect—the balance of tea and honey, just enough milk.
He’d memorized how she liked it. He’d been watching, paying attention—even to something this small.
Elara’s eyes flicked up to him, her heart stumbling—but he didn’t look back. His attention stayed on Sybil, on the spell, as if he hadn’t noticed her breath hitch or the way that small kindness had shaken her.
Since learning to work the threads, Elara had gained control over theDraoth Cara. She could mute the bond, choose when to feel him, when to pull away—and he always noticed. Always knew when she shut him out.
Except now.
Now it felt reversed. He must have muted her too, his walls firmly in place. Her fingers brushed the bloodstone at her throat—his oath—but she felt nothing from him at all.
“This is dangerous,” Sybil said, her eyes never leaving the map in front of them. “Even if you manage to pull this off, there’s no guarantee Osin won’t sense it the moment you start moving within the channels.”
Elara’s stomach dropped. Of all the things she had considered—of all the risks—she hadn’t factored Osin in.
How had she missed that?
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” the Hunter said, his tone calm—almost dismissive. But the way he avoided their eyes made Elara pause. He had a plan. Or at least a piece of one he wasn’t ready to share.
Sybil seemed to catch it too. Her eyes narrowed, teeth worrying her lower lip before she looked away. A moment later, she reached for a scrap of parchment and began sketching, saying nothing as her focus returned to the equations spread across the desk.
“If you're serious about this,” she murmured, barely glancing up, “you’ll need a filter. Something to narrow the focus and zero in on the most consistent fluctuations. Otherwise, it’s going to keep latching onto those surges and destabilize.”
