I lurched, twisting sideways, stumbling over discarded books, to scan the small collection amongst all the paperbacks. It was the same series that had captured my attention when Graysen first brought me to the library. The series of books were all the same size, with similar widths. All with a title regarding a princess. Just as the first book in the series suggested,‘The Princess and the Mechanic’it would seem the princesses were trying their hands at a new career.
But it wasn’t this series that had ensnared my attention.
It was a book caught up in the middle of them with a narrow spine and gold lettering stating the title:‘The Heir and The Servant.’
There was one thing I knew about Varen and Tabitha, and that was how they’d met all those years ago. Graysen had shared with me that his father, an heir, had met Tabitha at my grandparents’ when she’d been a servant. They’d had a secret affair becauseof their difference in rank. Our world did not permit those of higher ranks to be romantically involved with anyone lesser.
My fingers shook as I pinched the top edge of the glossy novel, and I sent a prayer to Zrenyth. With the breath trapped in my throat, I pulled gently. I felt the resistance immediately. It was a trigger, heavily loaded. Adrenaline spiked a heady rush through my bloodstream as I eased the book forward.
A lowclick.
A swiftscrapingsound.
The wall of books swung inward.
And I faced absolute darkness.
The Crowthers’ escape tunnel.
A way off the estate.
A different kind of terror fell upon me as I stared into the darkness, its velvety black cloak. Clammy beads of sweat trickled beneath the knot of hair at the nape of my neck to slide under my dress. My breath came too quickly, too shallow. My mind grew muggy, threatening to shatter, and I swayed.
I can’t… I can’t…
The sound of Jett’s approach neared.
“Wychthorn…”
The threat thickened the air with menace.
I can…
I have to…
I scrabbled at the messenger bag hanging at my hip, unzipping it with shaking fingers and digging out the flashlight. It fumbled in my sticky grip as I turned it on.
A thin, reedy light pierced the pitch-black gloom beyond.
Just one foot, one step…
That’s all I needed.
“Ah, there you are, rat,” came from behind me.
Stifling a shriek, I lurched through the secret door, stumbling down a short corridor that led to a spiraling staircase hewn fromrock. I hastily descended the roughly carved steps that wound like a ribbon…
…down…down…down…
All to the steady strike of an adamere blade against rock, ricocheting around me.
…clang…clang…clang…
The threatening ring chased me down the curling steps along with a mocking laugh that reverberated through the cold air. “You’re welcome, Wychthorn!” Jett called out from the entrance to the library.
And that’s when panic clawed at my soul, stealing my breath. I’d stepped from the safety of the library’s muted sunlight and thrown myself straight into darkness.
42
