I swallowed hard. “Nai, of Crescent Clan.”
Her gaze narrowed and seemed to run the length of my hair. “Crescent Clan?” A strange look ofshock?Surprise?—something I couldn’t quite place—flickered across her face, and then it was gone. “You really shouldn’t be in here—”
Someone cleared their throat, farther down the hall, and a book snapped shut.
I frowned. “What is this place?”
She chewed her lip as if mentally wrestling with something.
With a snap of her fingers, a little table appeared with a chair on either side. The quality of the stained wood was excellent, the surface completely unmarred of graffiti or even nicks or pen marks.
Several books sat on the top, and my eyes widened when I realized they were a stack of yearbooks, the six missing ones from the shelf.
But how did they get in here? And why? Did she know I’d been looking for these only minutes ago?
She looked down at the book and then toward the door. “You must go now.”
Okay … was that code for “Take the books with you?”
“So … can I borrow these?”
Another sound like the flapping of wings came from deeper down the hall, and her gaze sharpened. “Go!”
I grabbed the six books, spun, and pulled open the door, praying to every deity in all of history that the king and high mage would be gone.
Stepping into the Alpha Academy library, I sagged in relief to find I was completely alone.
Thank the mage.
My mind reeled with the conversation Kian and the king had had but mostly with the secret library and the silver-haired mage I’d met. This school held more secrets than a beach had sand.
Pushing all of that from my mind, I sank to the ground between the aisles with an overwhelming need to see pictures of my father. I missed him so much it hurt.
Thumbing through the top book, I found that it was my uncle’s graduation year. My father was two years younger and would have been a second year.
I flipped through it until I spotted my uncle smiling in his cap and gown, and a lump of emotion filled my throat. My father stood right next to him, holding bunny ears over his cap. He had his other arm around my Uncle Mackay. Mackay had the same lithe build and the same wide-set, pale blue eyes that both Dad and I had. What would he say if he were here now?
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I stared, and my throat tightened.
“Miss you, Dad,” I whispered, running my fingers over the page. My uncle and father were the best of friends. They did everything together growing up and never had the typical alpha sibling rivalry. I flipped through the pages, stopping when a group photo caught my eye.
My stomach dropped.
I knew it! I knew my father wouldneverlie to me.
There was Dad, in a suit, at some party, grinning ear to ear. But my uncle was grinning like a lunatic, his golden-blond hair tousled and messy. Uncle Mackay leaned to the side, off-balance, pulled by another young man on his left. I stared, jaw gaping, at the young man … the spitting image ofRage, except this version of him was laughing, arm around my uncle like they were the best of friends. Dark black hair, green eyes, and swoon-worthy smile. It wasn’t Rage though; it was his dad.
I flipped through the other yearbooks, looking for pictures of my uncle Mackay. In every single group picture I found Mackay, Rage’s dad was there too—playing volleyball on the beach, studying in this very same library, both of them with arms around girls, one of whom looked a lot like Rage’s mom. Picture after picture told a story.
A bell sounded, jarring me from my trance, and I swore. Late for lunch service meant I got to march through a line of shame.
I shoved the six yearbooks into my bag and zipped it up. I mean, it wasn’t stealing, right? The mage lady gave them to me, and they were technically staying on school property. Totally legit. Now I had the proof of what I’d told Rage. I might be wrong about a lot of things, butthiswasn’t one of them.
My uncle and Rage’s dad were friends. Best friends from the looks of it.
Somehow, holding the proof in my hand wasn’t nearly as gratifying as I’d hoped. In fact, the idea of going to Rage to shove this in his face made my stomach turn.
I ducked out of the aisle and then the library, racing through the building toward my lunchroom servitude, mulling over why I didn’t want to march over to Rage and show him the pictures in my bag.
