In another empty corridor, when she was halfway to the library, another arrow appeared from another wall, and this time she covered her face with both hands without thinking. The tomes she had been carrying in her arms fell straight to the floor and over her feet, but she couldn’t find the energy to curse right now. All her energy was centered on going over and over the conversation they just had in her mind, word by word, gesture by gesture.
When she picked up the books, she noticed one was missing. Pinned on the opposite wall was the arrow, in the very center of a book she hadn’t yet read but she had carried around for days and days. She hadn’t read it yet because it was an absolute mess: some parts had clearly been burned and tried to be restoredmagically; there were whole chapters in the wrong place, as if someone had ripped them and then put them back quickly without bothering too much; the ink was smeared in different pages, as if someone had tried to make its words disappear.
Whenever Lenna managed to remove the metal arrow from the wall—because it didn’t allow her to Take it the fuck away—the book would also have a vast hole penetrating the very middle of its pages and back cover.
She put her hands on her waist, examining the book with her eyes narrowed. This was a book that had survived more than many beings. She definitely should have started with it.
When she read the title on the open page, she gasped loudly, golden sparks leaving her fingers before she could control her shock.
Chapter 55: Exposing Harming Forces and Wicked Interests
By now, she knew better than to believe in coincidences.
“East House, East House, what do you want me to find out?”
30
Hope
In the Seizing Wind on the South Petal, a falling dune buried the treasures of many centuries before their eyes. When Hope and Ciaran landed straight into the gardens of the West House, though, the world was made of pure water and a post meridiem sky.
A magnificent white castle with dozens of turrets and towers lay on an island in the middle of a lake. A handful of white stone bridges connected the castle to the gardens. The gardens expanded for miles, with some summerhouses and sheds here and there, from the edge of the lake until the exterior, tall walls of the West House.
Hope turned to Ciaran with her eyebrows raised. “You never said the House of Healing was a fortress.”
“You never asked.” He smiled, his eyes glinting under the reflection of the lake as he extended his metallic hand behind him, inviting her to take it and follow him into the castle.
The closer they got to the castle, the lower Hope’s jaw dropped. Anywhere she looked, there were precious crystals ingrained in the walls, forming symbols and patterns she had never seen before and very much could not interpret.
“I don’t understand.” She furrowed her brow as they continued approaching the main entrance formed by two identical, huge marble doors. “Your castle—it’s…not white.”
“Oh, yes, that. It looks white to everyone but the Ruler, the heir, and the Organ Mandor, though. The House protects itself by imposing a mirage on any other beings who admire it. I still see its true form, even if I’m not the heir anymore; I’m not sure why.”
Hope nodded quietly as she approached the wall and hovered her palm over a bright blue crystal at her shoulder’s height, the size of her fist. “These crystals havea lotof power in them. Power…and something else.” She narrowed her eyes and felt the patient stare of Ciaran on her hand, her extended arm, her face.
“Something else indeed,” he said, and she didn’t need to look at him to feel the hint of a smile in his voice.
The closer she approached her hand towards the crystal, the clearer she felt it. At the back of her neck, the West petal on her panom mark was beating of its own accord, as if doing an intimate magical dance, willing to be connected to the crystal, willing to be used.
“Healing properties,” Hope gasped, moving her hand to hover over an amber crystal, a magenta one, a silver one. The crystals piled up and up in a continuous mosaic that formed the exterior walls of the castle. “They feel as strong as the crystals of theLawful Stabs and even the crystal feathers of the Fifth Crusade, but…these crystals have incredibly strong healing properties.”
When she looked at Ciaran, he was nodding with his lips tight, and a shine in his blue eyes that claimed love and pride. He lifted his hand, his shadows diving under the marble doors, before they opened with a quiet metallic sound that was pleasant and somehow familiar.
“Welcome to the West House, bloodrose.”
Ciaran waited for her hand, and with a last look in each other’s eyes, he welcomed her into the House where he had grown and lived for centuries.
The interior of the castle was very much not how a fortress would have looked, according to the books Hope read during years in Verdania, but instead, not-so-surprisingly, resembled the interior of Ciaran’s safehouse in Corentre. On the interior, all the walls were truly white, without hidden crystals to unwanted eyes. The dark and grey tones of the furniture and decorations aligned with the minimalistic design and the fact that they were made of metal, glass, or polished wood.
Every item served a well-thought purpose, from the low glass table in the center etched with shifting symbols that doubled as a map, to the polished wooden cabinet built seamlessly into the wall, its compartments filled with neatly arranged vials of herbs, powders, and miniature crystals.
Hope longed to lose herself in this place, to uncover every secret, every detail, every ingenious touch woven into its design. A House built with purpose and clever efficiency? How could she ever resist?
“Your House is a paradise,” she whispered, not resisting letting go of Ciaran’s hand and exploring the cabinet with the map and symbols. “What is this?” She didn’t know what the symbols meant, but there was shiny liquid moving swiftly downevery trace, its silver, metallic liquid with unusual hints of blackness.
“Mercurium in its original state. Very rare.”
She turned to Ciaran with a grin on her face that she couldn’t, nor did she try to, contain. His expression was solemn, his eyes focused on the moving liquid, as if he saw something that Hope couldn’t.
