And the surge of energy those emotions brought with them.
I’dhardly been inside the space before, as Father rarely took companyhere. There were a handful of occasions, though, where he’d invited me for small things—to share tea, or to give me personal tips about my combat skills, or to simply sit in front of the fire together during the rare instances that the cold became too much, even for us.
Oddly enough, it was small moments like that which I found myself missing the most.
Heading over to the lounge area, I imagined if he were trying to hide anything about Mother,he’dhave it within reach. I sat in Father’s favorite spot—the left side of the long, navy couch—and searched.Asmall table with drawersstoodto the left of me, but they housed nothing of importance. The low-lying table in front of me had no place to hide items, either. Standing, I even went as far as to lift the couch cushions, my desperationbecomingmore and morepotent as time went on.
Not finding anything in that area, I checked his desk and shelves, butcame up empty-handedthere, too.
Sighing, I took another moment to think.
My eyes lingered on Father’s bed.It looked as though he’d only ever slept on the right side of it, even after Mother was gone.The left side was untouched, nothing on the bedside table, while the right had a slight dip in it, and the table beside it was covered inpapersand trinkets.
I approached the large bed,and within moments had checked the entire thing, as well as the top of the bedside table. Nothing under the mattress, or in his pillows, or anywhere in between. The papers and trinkets atop the tablealsodidn’taid in my search.
But it did still smell like him—the fresh smell of the calm after a storm—and the strikeof grief that hit my heart felt like a physical blow.
My blood sang with a power that wanted to escape, but I pushed it down, determined to find something.Anything.
I noticed the top drawer of his bedside table was slightly ajar, as though Father had left in a hurry, and yanked it open.I shuffled througha few pens, papers, daggers, andotherrandom, useless objects.
Slamming it, my anger sparked when itdidn’tshut all the way, still slightly sticking out from the rest of the wooden piece.
Great, I thought.I broke it.
Bendingto fix it, I pulled it open and peered towards the back of the drawer when something shiny caught my eye.
Heartracing, I pulled the drawer out of its place and put it on the ground next to me, then blindly reached for whatever it was I had seen.
My hand met leather, and I pulled the object out slowly, my hand shaking just barely.
It was a journal—and a very elegant one atthat. It was black with a silver pattern all over the front and back cover. The pattern had no rhyme or reason, but it was pleasant,nonetheless.
Loosening a breath Imust’vebeen holding, I lowered myself to the floor with my back and wings against the edge of the bed. Balancing the journal on my knees, I cracked it open.
It was almost completely full of Father’s tiny, nearly impossible to read handwriting. As I flipped through, I noticed only a few pages at the end hadn’t been filled yet, as though he’d not had enough time.
Technically, I supposed he hadn’t.
Though, Icouldn’thelp but notice that on every page, multiple times,he’dwritten about somebody he calledprisoner fifty-one. Stopping to read on a random page, I could tell thiswas somebody Father must have been studying, or was important for some other reason, for he saw them far too often for somebody who was also running anentire kingdom.
Flipping towards the beginning, I noticed Father had sketched out a small map of the encampmentshe’dmentioned before the recent battle.
My eyes were drawn to a star on the top left side of the page, wherehe’dcircled what looked like one of the stone towers multiple times.
Slamming the journal shut, I had to remind myself to breathe.
Father didnothingwithout reason.
I just had to put the pieces of the puzzletogether.
Chapter Six
“So shadow wielding doesn’t originate from within the South?”
“Correct. The South only obtained shadow wielding through integrating closely with thefaeof theOcreinIsles for centuries,” I answered Aurora, who was peering at me from the other side of my usual table in the library.
The library had quickly become a place of peace and comfort for me during my months here in the South. Bright red granite with dark crystal inclusions made up the floor and pillars of the large space. The walls and bookshelves were crafted of varying dark shades of brown, making the inclusions in the floor stand out even more. The Haven’s library took my breath away each time I stepped inside, and I wished to the Stars that never changed.
