So why did Ciana’s heart suddenly start hammering like a war drum in her chest?
She swept her gaze over the study room again, if only to give herself something to distract her mind.
The space was warm and cozy and beautiful. Better than the one Niktael had shown her, because it was situated on the ground floor, nestled within a thicket of brambles far below thetowering boughs of the tallest trees. No traveling upstairs or risking her life in that terrifying lift.
The study room was outfitted with a massive solid oak table and a collection of plush, upholstered chairs. An unlit hearth was nestled into the far wall, more comfortable couches and chairs arranged around it. There was even a sleeping chamber with an attached bathroom for those researchers who didn’t want to spare a single moment from their studies.
Ciana refused to look at that room.
Again, she couldn’t pinpoint why. Sebastian had quite literally shared her bed with her last night. Barely touching her, but there, nonetheless.
But on that walk here with Nik, something in his demeanor had changed.
She turned slowly. He was still leaning against that solid table, watching her. There was a heat in his hazel eyes, one that had been lingering for days but always carefully masked. Like he was afraid that if he showed her too much, she’d run away.
He didn’t seem to be worrying about that anymore, though.
Sebastian pushed off the table. He was midstride toward her when someone knocked at their door, and he froze.
His smile slipped into his version of a smirk—a gentle tilt to his mouth, a humored glint in his eye, a kind set to his jaw. “I think it must be a joke at this point.”
Ciana laughed weakly. “In fairness, wewereexpecting them.” Though maybe not so quickly.
Sebastian strode to the door, pulling it open to reveal the archivist and two kitchen servants. The archivist deposited a crate of texts on the large table with instructions to make notes and identify any additional names, places, or details they think might be helpful in narrowing their search. The servants unloaded several plates of food: fruits and baked goods, rolled slices of cured ham, buttery wedges of cheese.
Within minutes, their once-empty table was covered with books and scrolls and food. Ciana smiled at how Sebastian lit up but tried to keep his excitement contained. She loved how much he enjoyed the act of reading; so many men like him would be too insecure to claim a passion like that. But not him.
Her mind stuttered, face flushing with warmth.
No, it was nothing. Loving a part of someone didn’t mean you lovedthem. Not like that.
Right?
She was so deep in her spiraling thoughts, she didn’t notice that the archivist and servants had left them until the door clicked softly closed. Her gaze snapped up, finding Sebastian’s across the heavily laden table.
He pushed a hand through his hair, disrupting its normally neat lengths. “How about we eat,” he said, “and start working through a few of these texts. Then we can talk.”
Butterflies took flight in Ciana’s stomach. Still, she smiled. “Work, eat, then talk,” she agreed.
The work was not fun.
It hadn’t taken long for Ciana to become frustrated with the old, filibustering phrases scrawled by historians thousands of years ago. They all used too many words to say nothing at all, recording the most minute details from their time, as if the number of petals blooming on the orchids in the garden outside the west corridor somehow mattered enough to note in the histories of the continent.
Maybe it mattered to someone. It certainly didn’t matter to her and told her absolutely nothing about what they were truly after.
While she struggled, though, Sebastian excelled. He’d breezed through several texts, scratching notes on pieces of parchment, noting names and places and events that might have some connection to the mysterious weapon of the gods.
Again, he was perfect for this task. This was why Mariah had sent him.
That didn’t make Ciana any less frustrated with herself.
Ciana sighed, leaning heavily on the sink in the bathing chamber. She had no idea how long they’d been here—part of the strange nature of the archives, the twinkling lights never fluctuated beneath the canopy—but they’d eaten most of the food and her eyes ached. She pressed a finger to the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the pressure.
She hoped Sebastian was ready for a break soon. She didn’t know how much more she had left in her before at least trying to sleep.
They still hadn’t talked. Even in the quiet of their focused research, tension crackled between them. That shifted, heated energy in Sebastian hadn’t quieted; she caught it every time she glanced up from her book and met his stare.
He was being patient. Biding his time. But for what?
