The words could be meaningless filler, but there’s something in his tone—something deliberate. More than just casual observation. A challenge, maybe.
I glance at him, arching a brow. His expression is softer than usual, but I know him too well to fall for that act. “Picking locks?” I toss back, keeping my tone light, though my pulse skips. “Hardly a talent worth mentioning.”
“Among other things,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into that infuriatingly familiar smirk. “Although I seem to recall a time you threatened to melt those picks into slag because they wouldn’t cooperate.”
I almost—almost—smile at the memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Doesn’t it just?” he murmurs, stepping a fraction closer, his gaze lingering on me. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—regret? Nostalgia?
Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.
He’s still looking at me, and there’s a weight in his gaze that makes my throat tighten. I look away, unable to pick apart whether it’s his words or that faint shadow of what we used to be that makes me feel unmoored.
Darkness envelops the room, with only a faint glimmer of light emanating from a solitary aura atop the desk positioned at the heart of the space. The soft, flickering glow casts ominous shadows that dance around the edges of the furniture, giving the room an eerie and unsettling atmosphere. It highlights faint scuff marks on the floor, while also illuminating the door on the far wall of the dimly lit space.
I clear my throat. “Is that the door?”
“Yes.” Without hesitation, Raven darts forward, his feet moving soundlessly across the marble floor. “Can you grab that aura for me?”
I do as he asks. The coolness of the glass orb in my palm is a stark contrast to the burning light emanating from within. With a sense of anticipation, I bring the aura closer, lowering myself to a kneeling position as I direct its glow toward the door handle. As the light glimmers off the polished metal, my eyebrows rise in surprise. Intricategoiteíaare carved into every spare bit of space. There are the ones I know for seal, lock, and silence. But others are unknown and yet…oddly familiar.
“Have you ever seen these before?” I ask, eyes darting to him. The set of his jaw is tense, the muscles straining as he contemplates the symbols before him. When he gives a small nod, a fleeting expression of guilt crosses his face, causing my heart to plummet.
His lips press together for a moment before he speaks, and when he does, his tone is quieter than I’ve heard all night. “Only here.” Hepauses, his gaze locking on the door as though he can see straight through it. “And it didn’t end well.”
I freeze, the weight of his words pressing against my rib cage. “What do you mean?”
He exhales through his nose, like releasing the answer costs him something. “Kestrel.” His hand lifts, then falls to his side as though the memory of Alpha Flight’s former commander has drained him of the will to hold the moment any longer. “Trying to nullify these marks…it’s what killed him.”
The world narrows to an unbearable stretch of silence.
“What?” My voice cracks, the word barely audible.
“Kestrel,” he repeats, more resolute now. He meets my gaze, his expression carefully controlled, though there’s something restrained beneath the surface. “He was trying to disable this door the last time we were here. We didn’t recognize the counter-wards hidden in the marks.” He pauses, swallowing briefly before continuing, his tone measured. “The heavy protections on this door can only mean that it’s important.”
The white glow of the aura trembles in my grasp, my fingers tightening painfully around it. The steady pulse in my chest turns erratic, fluttering against my ribs like a caged thing. My breath comes shallow, each exhale dragging against my lungs as I search his face for…what? Reassurance? Denial? Anything to make this easier to process.
It doesn’t come.
I slip a tentative hand into his instead, giving his fingers a small squeeze between mine. “I’m so sorry, Raven.”
He nods once, the gesture tight and abrupt. Our eyes meet, and for a moment we just look at each other. Then he clears his throat, releasing my hand as though the touch is too much to bear.
“We should finish what we came here for,” he says, voice thick with unshed emotion.
With a nod, I offer him the aura, and he takes it without a second thought, his gaze fixed and unwavering as I return to the cluttered desk. I snatch up a scrap of parchment, a quill, and inkpot, then bring them back to where Raven remains fixated on the intricate handle. It’s as ifhe believes that by sheer force of will and unwavering attention, he can unlock the hidden meanings that lie within the markings.
I keep my mind blank and my hand steady as I copy the marking onto the parchment, taking care with each stroke. The true magic ofgoiteíacomes from the conscious thought of imbuing them with power. You need to visualize your intent as you take a little thread of the power from your soul and stitch it into the mark. Tracing them as I am now won’t have any effect.
“Don’t,” Raven says, his voice sharp as he realizes what I’m doing. “El, stop. These marks—”
He cuts himself off, stepping closer, his hand brushing mine where I grip the quill as though he’s about to snatch it from my grasp.
“I’m just copying them so we can research them later.” I pull away from him and continue my task. “This has to be it. It has to mean something.”
“It does. But it’s not worth risking everything. Not yet.”
With a nod, I complete the final stroke and blow softly on the fresh ink. Once it’s dry, I pass it to Raven and return the quill and inkpot back to the desk. “Now we can figure these out without constantly breaking into a prince’s rooms.”
