Jubilee is full of death. Paintings and busts are missing at intervals, destroyed during the Crimson Night. All that remains are indentations and smudges of what used to be. The empty spaces are reminders of power lost, warnings that everyone, even those at the top, can fall.
Each of my steps echoes like a whisper to turn around and go back to my room. To lock and bar my door. The only thing Torren asked of me was to stay alive. And this is inviting the opposite.
I freeze, unable to push myself any farther, the danger making my limbs leaden. Someone could be hiding in any one of these darkened rooms.
I tip my head back and groan, running a hand down my hair. Torren has completely invaded my mind. I’m just going to the library.
Because I need to be useful in this alliance. I have to find answers.
Shaking off my fear, I force my feet to work until I reach the towering doors. I pull on the cold, gilded handle, then enter the library and light every oil lamp I can find.
Now brightened, the space is far larger than I thought it would be. The room is ornate with carved molding and gold everywhere, the ceiling painted blue with a fleur-de-lis in every coffer. I sigh. It’s beautiful, but this is massive. An entire wall is covered in a fresco of an Elusian whose dreams foretold the future.
Gods, I could use that power right about now, since it could take hours to locate the book—if it’s here at all.
I tamp down my panic and start to search the central bookcases to my left.The Compendium of Signsis gold plated, and thus should stand out, but that’s not necessarily the case for a copy.
I scan the shelves looking for the title. The freestanding bookcases are so tall that I can’t see over them. Each holds well over three hundred tomes. I move quickly, but there are thousands upon thousands of spines to read, and some are unmarked.
My temple has a library, but it is nothing compared to this. The only repository I’ve been in that’s larger is the Great Library of Pryor in the Forum. It sits across from the Senate Hall, but it serves all the people of the republic. This served one man, the last Elusian king.
I walk down a row filled with books on the history of the kingdom, running my fingers along the old leather bindings. These were written centuries ago, the actors and scribes long dead, but the knowledge remains. There’s something both sad and comforting in that.
Each volume in this section is filled with the works of the Elusians. The original rulers used their abilities for good, but as so often happens, the monarchy descended into selfish desires, murder, and madness. I’m surprised the books weren’t dumped into the Tiger the way the Elusians’ bodies were sent down the river.
The heads of the royal family were kept and placed on pikes atop the Tullanium jail. Mine should’ve been there as well.
I shake off the thought, but it’s far more difficult to avoid my blood in this palace. Every painting, every room is a remnant of them. Of who I really am.
When I come to the end of the aisle, the Praetorian stands there, his muscular body blocking my way.
My heart leaps into my throat as I scream. Then I cover my mouth as the sound echoes.
He’s still in a suit, with his jacket on this time, but he could be mistaken for a chiseled statue. I’m not sure how long he was watching me, but it doesn’t look like he just arrived.
“What are you doing here, High Priestess?” His voice rumbles with anger.
I point to my own chest and blink. “What amIdoing here? What areyoudoing here? Aside from scaring me to death?”
He shrugs. “I saw the light.”
I stare at him. He’s standing in a shadow so I can’t read his eyes, but his voice rings true. It’s just not the whole truth.
I try to will my heart to slow, but it doesn’t help that I was just thinking about the Elusian slaughter. I was wrong about the Praetorian not being discreet. Apparently, he can move soundlessly if he wants to.
“Is that so?” I ask.
The Praetorian shakes his head. “You didn’t answer my question. It’s rude to continue to ask your own.”
I look around, trying to remember what he asked, but it’s difficult to recall while trying not to faint. “What didn’t I answer?”
“What you’re doing here. I seem to remember asking you to stay in your room when I saw you last.”
I sigh and decide to tell him the truth, although I’m loath to admit it. “I thought there might be aCompendium of Signshere. I need to find out what the split omen means before the conclave begins tomorrow. I can’t tell the Senate about it without being able to explain the meaning.”
His eyes stay locked on mine, his mouth still. I hold his gaze but then notice that he’s standing oddly. His arm is bent, hiding something behind his back.
“What do you have?” I ask.
