His misgiving deepened. “There is no sword in the main library.”
“Hilarious.” She had seen it. Hell, she’dheardit, though she wasn’t about to say that.
Allaster waved his hand, summoning a Kalish-style short sword with a wide crossguard at the base of the sheathed blade. “We don’t have time for this. Here.” She took the sword, securing it to her belt as he summoned his bow and quiver and turned to the Ayadese door.
It swung open into a small alcove overlooking a room of sky-blue marble with soaring ceilings of white arches. The natural light from the many windows caught on crystal sculptures of blooming sea-green flowers and prowling tigers in sunset orange. Kasira was so busy staring at the renditions of the extinct creature, she didn’t realize Allaster had been waiting on her until he reached back through the portal to seize her wrist and drag her through after him.
“Where is this place?” she breathed as the door shut behind them.
“The Crystal Palace in Kezren,” he replied. “Do me a favor and keep quiet. The last thing I need is you causing an international incident.”
She very nearly told him exactly what he could do with that request when a tall, brown-skinned woman in a silk dress came hurrying toward them. She clutched a small notebook in one hand, and her black hair had been bundled into a braided knot atop her head, pinned in place by a long, thin kyda crystal with a pink center that glittered with pinpricks of iridescent light.
“Librarian,” she greeted him in the Common Tongue, and she and Allaster pressed a fist to their hearts simultaneously in greeting. “My name is Ryn. Please follow me.”
Kasira had read of the Ayadese government’s swift efficiency, but this woman certainly didn’t mince words. She whisked them along a narrow hall of glass windows, which was all well and good until Kasira glanced out of one. The windows overlooked a steep drop to a rocky, snow-covered valley, the corridor spanning the dizzyingly empty space between two mountain peaks lined with a series of gondolas. This was not a hall, but an enclosed bridge, the scene beyond it depthless.
“Corynth?” She swayed, and a hand fell on her shoulder. “Corynth?” Allaster called again. “Are you all right?” His gaze tracked hers to the sheer drop, and just when she expected him to tease her for the anxiety he’d surely recognized, he slipped his arm through hers and guided her away from the window.
The quick tap of Ryn’s finger against her notebook was the only indication of her impatience. “This way.” She spun on her heel.
Kasira focused on Allaster’s steadying presence until they had crossed the last of the glass corridor and entered another soaring foyer, this one bedecked in marble of a soft mossy green, at which point she silently extricated herself from him, and he allowed the moment to pass without a word. He likely thought it a fear of heights, and she didn’t correct him. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t know how to explain the impact that much space had on her, how it shortened her breath the same way a narrow corridor did.
Everywhere Kasira looked, there were statues. Crystal statues and marble statues and combinations of the two, each fashioned with such incredible craftmanship as to make her fingers itch for want of having them.
They ascended a freestanding spiral staircase at the center of the room to a landing, strode down a brightly lit glass hall, and exited onto a circular platform overlooking an expansive garden. Most of the plants were kinds Kasira had never seen before, their color a deep forest green with vines of ruby red, or big, fanlike leaves with gold veins.
At the very center of the garden, in a clearing of white marble, stood a person in a flowing green silk skirt and tight-fitting black top. Their black hair fell straight to their wide hips, framing a round face void of any expression, their golden-brown skin glistening with sweat. So still were they, their eyes closed and hands clasped serenely before them, that Kasira almost thought they were a statue too.
Then she saw why.
Curled around their feet, its long body undulating as it moved, was an enormous serpent. Midnight-black with bands of silver scales, the creature was easily two feet in circumference, with a big, boxy head and a set of leathery black wings pinned to its back.
“Thisis a class F?” she hissed at Allaster. “It’s a Syovar!”
“Which are class F’s,” Allaster returned calmly. “They never attack unless provoked.” Which was why the person wrapped in the center of its long body stood incredibly still. How long had they been there, unmoving, and how much longer could they last?
“It flew in from above,” Ryn explained, gesturing to the circular hole in the domed ceiling. It had a hatch and hinges, clearly meant to open and close depending on weather. “Queen Sarren has been here for nearly an hour.”
Kasira balked at the name. This was not only one of Ayador’s four queens, but the one whose season was in power. Each was proclaimed chosen by one of the Ayadese seasonal gods, and together they ruled through the Queen’s Council. The head of the queendom changed based on the season, so though the council ruled together, it enabled a single person to make swift decisions without deliberation when necessary.
To have been standing there for nearly an hour, unmoving—the sheer discipline and strength necessary for such a feat was extraordinary.
“We had hoped the Syovar would leave of its own accord,” Ryn continued in a soft voice. “But it has only gotten more comfortable. Queen Sarren is a formidable warrior, but they cannot remain there forever.”
“It’s the shadowflower.” Allaster gestured at a plant so darkly green, it shone near black. “Syovars are heavily aromiopathic. They communicate through scents in an almost telepathic way.” He crept closer to the balcony railing and crouched down to get a better look at the beast, which had lain its massive head upon its tail and closed its eyes. “Queen Sarren should be safe so long as no one else enters the area. Is this your only garden?”
Ryn almost looked offended. “What do you need?”
Allaster looked to Kasira, expectant, and a wave of alarm spiked through her as the seriousness of the situation settled heavily into focus. Their last mission had been spontaneous and fraught, their training up until this point mostly theoretical. Now, here stood a monarch of one of the six nations, their life sitting firmly in her and Allaster’s hands, and he expectedherto take the lead?
If they failed here, if Queen Sarren was hurt, it would severely damage Amorlin’s reputation and its relationship with Ayador. And with Kalthos breathing down their necks, the last thing they needed was to incite the wrath of a second country—or at least, that was what she imagined Allaster to be thinking.
“I—” She caught Allaster’s gaze, expecting to find him regretting his decision, but he only waited. The concept that he believed in her was at once incredibly disorienting and oddly heartwarming. It was also a mistake.
Kasira faced the aide. “We need as many tyvna weed bulbs as you can find,” she said. “Be careful not to crush any when you return with them.”
Ryn nodded and darted back the way they had come, leaving them with the silent Queen and the sleeping beast, and leaving Kasira with Allaster, who had something that looked like satisfaction in the curl of his lips. She didn’t know what troubled her more: his approval, orthe way she had reacted to the entire situation—with the concern of an Assistant Librarian.
