I rolled aside, catching my breath. “Why are you helping me?”
She straightened and stepped back. “This is professional courtesy. Rowan asked me—that’s it.”
The strain between us hung heavy with unspoken questions. Against better judgment, I ventured, “So… is he seeing someone?”
Renata froze, her gaze turning brittle as ice.
She stepped back, posture stiff and formal. “Rowan’s private life isn’t mine to share, and even if it were, I wouldn’t.”
I stood motionless, embarrassment heating my face.
Renata’s tone hardened. “I don’t care what you think you feel—whatever you think is going on between you two—abandon it. Now.”
My mouth opened. “It’s not like—”
“It’s pointless and a waste of air to lie to me,” she snapped. “I read people for a living. Your entire body betrays you every time he’s nearby.”
I held her gaze. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s dangerous,” she corrected. “Rowan is so far out of your reach, you don’t even realize the distance. And even if—ifhe felt something for you, it wouldn’t matter.”
“Why not?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
Renata leaned in slightly, her smile cutting.
“Because if you knew him—truly knew him—you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him.” Renata brushed past me. “Come back when you’re ready to train.”
I didn’t know what frightened me more—her words, or the part of me that wondered if she was right.
Chapter 40
“Under the proclamation of His Majesty, Acaelar Bloodborne, first of his name, a new sect of soldiers will be instructed with a specific directive.
The Order shall be charged with protecting the sanctity of faith within the realm, and falls under the direct command of the king.”
-Article 1, Section 1, of the Veiled Compendium
Ever since I first saw the tome in the library, it haunted me—slipping into my dreams and whispering through my thoughts. Its presence lingered in my mind, and I felt its sharp pull. Perhaps it was King Acaelar himself reaching from the grave, or the goddess Elspeth urging me toward destiny.
The library doors loomed ahead. My palm hovered over the handle, slick with sweat despite the coolness of the hall. I drew a breath deep enough to steady me and ran through the plan again.
The librarian was a creature of habit—rigid, predictable. Even without seeing him, I could conjure the image: his narrow shoulders hunched like a crow over some book, listening carefully for any threat to his domain.
Which was why I needed a diversion.
Something that would get his attention and force him to leave his desk—keys unguarded. But I had to be careful. I couldn’t make him suspect my true agenda.
Pushing open the doors, I slipped inside. The scent struck me first—patchouli. The librarian loved burning incense, and the cloud of it was thick today.
I scanned the area, but no one else was there, per usual.
The librarian sat at his desk near the entrance, nose-deep in a book. His head did not move when I entered, but his eyes—sharp as a hawk’s—tracked me.
“Back again?” His voice was low, brittle withsuspicion.
“I am,” I said lightly, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “There isn’t much else for me to do now, is there?”
“I suppose not.” His hand twitched, a flick of his wrist as if dismissing a servant. “Enjoy.”
