Monitoring the path of the fog is not the easy task it initially appears. Strong winds often occur in concurrence with the toxic weather event, meaning a deadly fog might be reported many, many miles from its original source.
— LETTERS FROM THE ROYAL RESEARCHER, SORROW VILLENTE, TO HIS HIGHNESS, KING ROMERO IV
There have been moments, fleeting seconds, where the expressions on the wolf’s face appear almost human. I convince myself they’re merely illusions created by the shadows plaguing my vision. But sometimes, like when he abandoned me in an unfamiliar hallway, looking back over his shoulder as I hissed his name, it seemed Pablo genuinely smirked at me.
Skye discovered me loitering in a corridor lined with Elmswood portraits as I pretended I wasn’t lost. A range of green eyes, set in sombre faces, glared at me as though they saw through my title.She can’t be queen. She can’t even find the library, they seemed to say.
I accepted Skye’s elbow as she drew me through corridor after corridor towards the library. By the time we reached the doors, Pablo had returned, his fur damp with drizzle. Skye took her time, pointing out anything of interest to me: tapestries depicting the Gods’ legends, and famous shields, splintered in battles from ages past, propped up alongside unblemished suits of armour imbued with Vyrium.
Skye winced as I snapped at her when she tried to lead me away from the library.
‘Are you sure you’re not too tired after the trip and a morning with Glesni?’ she asked. There was the slightest tremor to her bottom lip, and I cursed myself. Could I not be pleasant for five minutes?
‘No…thank you.’ I attempted my sincerest grin.
Skye’s shoulders sagged in relief.
‘I suspect Romero is already racing through my notes. I really need to dedicate every spare second to catching up. If he locates the mine before us, he’ll have it stripped bare before the week’s out.’
As we approached the library, sunlight spilled through arched windows onto the lush scarlet carpet. Pablo guided me towards a set of ebony doors where two guards dressed in black and silver stood. For a moment, I blinked away the stripes and shadows as the sharp light blinded me.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Skye said, her hand on my elbow. ‘But I went ahead and arranged some help.’
I stopped short, wincing.
‘Help?’
‘A few assistants and clerks. Not too many?’
I inhaled a cooling breath, smothering the ember of rage – after the damned spider and the excruciatingly stubborn Deviant, I’d been hoping for some quiet.
‘How many exactly?’ I asked, doing my hardest to keep the flint from my tone.
A sheepish expression crossed her pretty face as the guards raised their hands to their hearts in a salute, before opening the doors. We stepped into the library I’d been so desperate to reach.
It was darker than the hallway. Smaller arched windows bordered by rich wine-red curtains lined the south wall. Even the musky scent of books didn’t calm my racing pulse as I realised there were more than a ‘few’ librarians gathered. Libraries were quiet spaces, hallowed sanctuaries in which one opened a book and embarked on a passage of knowledge and understanding – or got lost in a steamy romance on a dark, rainy evening.
I peered through the gloom, grimacing to find the library had more assistants than books. They milled about, chatted and laughed. One carried leather-bound tomes towards me, but after taking one look at Pablo, quickly turned heel to place them on one of the several long oak tables in the central space.
A hot slice throbbed through my temples, and I flinched, the flickering cinders of irritation sparking into an inferno. My nostrils flared as the many figures came into shaky focus.
‘See. We’ve made a head start,’ Skye said, bouncing excitedly on her slippered toes, the layers of her dress rustling.
A huge pile of teetering books tumbled to the ground, eliciting a loud cheer from a group of assistants sitting on a range of comfortable sofas and chairs beside the unlit hearth.
‘Sorrow?’ Skye’s voice muted as the pain exploded in my mind. The library, the books, the assistants’ curious faces and the whole damn world spun.
Pablo whined, nuzzling my hip as the stabbing thundered through my head. For the space of a few heartbeats, I clung to Pablo and Skye while the pain crept silently away and, slumping, I opened my eyes, flinching at the stark light.
The assistants stared with wide, confused eyes. Releasing my grip, I squared my shoulders. This would never work.
‘Out,’ I ordered in a low voice.
Not a single person moved. Someone’s feet shuffled, another coughed, a couple muttered.
I grimaced and held my head. ‘Out…please.’
‘Your Highness?’ A severe-looking woman, wearing a simple brown dress and a pair of thick glasses, approached. ‘We…we’ve been charged with helping you.’
