“It’s okay, Seri. Does it tell you how?” Therion’s voice is steady, sure—a balm to her apprehension.
But Ronyn’s found fodder for a joke.
“Seri, hey? So, we’re doing nicknames now?” he asks, wagging a finger between them. “That’s a bit cute, isn’t it?”
A laugh slips from my lips, unbidden. We’re talking about a forbidden tome with a magical lock that can help us break a spell, and Ronyn’s joking about nicknames.The absurdity.
But before I can tell Ronyn to focus, Seren smirks, and with more force than I’ve ever heard from her, she says, “Fuck off, Ronyn.”
“Can we focus?” Jax snaps, though the hushed laughter from the group drowns her out.
“Don’t be jealous, Jaxxy. No need, in fact. We’ve already named your pu?—”
“Ronyn!” she groans, clapping her palm over her face.
“What?” he spreads his hands innocently. “I’m just keeping morale up. Someone has to, with Therion all serious and Kael practicing his king voice—my role is essential to this whole operation.”
I can’t help it—I laugh. Wildly. Freely. Uninhibited.
Kael watches me, his gaze a brand.
So fucking beautiful, my love. His warm, honeyed admiration drips down the tether, and it turns me molten.
“This is why you got caught and thrown in The Tannery the first time, Ronyn—you’ve got a big mouth. Just sayin’,” Gellesk grumbles.
“True,” Ronyn agrees, not even arguing with the jab. “Anyway, I digress. Where were we? Ah yes, talking tomes and cute nicknames—as you were,” he reminds with an exaggerated flourish of his hands.
Seren shakes her head, barely holding in a laugh, but continues. “It wants my blood,” she whispers, confused, pulling the tome from her satchel. “I’ll give it. I’ll open the book. But why me?” She’s not apprehensive from fear—she’s surprised. Surprised that her blood has the power to open the book no one else seems to be able to open.
Bound in midnight hide and clasped with Starforged silver, the Lunar Codex is less a book and more a living scripture. When it touches the table, the air itself seems to recoil—like the room is holding its breath. The silver clasp hums faintly, low and resonant, and the shadows along the walls stretch as if drawn toward it.
Correk’s hands tentatively press against the clasp, curious, inspecting. “I know very little about all manner of magic, but do not open this in Aevryn. Maldrak is magically attuned to everything connected to his rule, and I suspect that includesthis. If you open this here, he’ll know,” he says, disturbed and unsettled.
The logic makes sense—and I don’t want to risk being caught before we have the chance to open it.
“We need to see what The Archivist can tell us first, then, we open it in Nymeris,” Therion says, and the room nods in agreement.
“Then it’s settled—the rebellion marches on Kryntar, we open the Codex, we secure the alliance and information from Nymeris,” Kael assesses. His stare bores into Gellesk, all command and directness. “Camp nearby, and do not attack until you get my signal.”
Gellesk grunts his acknowledgement, a soldier receiving orders.
A plan confirmed, a fate awaits.
Amarisse’s private room stills, chatter hushes, and the air begins to buzz with tension, as if we should be holding our breath.
Gellesk’s eyes land on mine, the full weight of his attention channeling into me, and his rough grumble splits the room.
“So, tell me—have you secured the fifth relic?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
KAEL
The room stills.The weight of Gellesk’s question settles like a hand on my chest.
Elyssara’s spine straightens, and I don’t miss the sharp breath she sucks in.
“What do you know of the fifth relic?” she snaps, and her words come out a fiery blaze.
