Page 223 of Burn of the Everflame

I wasn’t convinced the children’s welfare was Vance’s real motive, even with his neck on the line. The more I learned about him, the more his vision of Emarion looked a lot like the Crowns’, but with the whip in his hand instead of theirs.

Ophiucae’s laughter echoed in my head. What was it you said earlier . . . new captor, same cage?

My mood turned dark. I’ve seen enough.

The settlement grew fuzzy as we receded from Kéani’s mind, though it wasn’t my own head I returned to. Through the eyes of the man who’d escorted her here, I watched him hand off the reins of the horses to a Guardian woman inside the wall.

“Eat ’em or keep ’em,” he said. “Up to you.”

“Don’t you need one to get back?” she asked.

He gave no answer as the wall sealed shut. He turned and walked into the woods.

This man betrayed you, did he not? Ophiucae asked.

I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure who this man was.

He walked until the settlement was too far away to see, then he stopped beside a tree with a large, wide trunk. Its blackened bark was dotted with patches of healthy brown, as if a coat of ash had been partially wiped away. Up high on its knobby branches, a few emerald leaves emerged from scattered buds.

Ophiucae’s magic rippled, and a sheet of ice formed across the trunk, reflecting the man in its glassy surface. Though I wasn’t sure I’d ever met him, I knew his face. I’d spent hours committing every feature to memory, planning what I might do if I ever saw it again.

He hadn’t dealt the death blow to my father that day, but he’d been at Vance’s side, ready to slay Henri if he wouldn’t. And when my father took his final breath, this man had been the first to cheer.

What are you going to do? I asked.

But I already knew the answer.

As I watched the man pull a knife from his sheath and plunge it into his own chest, the “Stop!” that should have come from my lips never arrived.

The vision vanished.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, once more in my own body. “I don’t answer those who’ve wronged me with murder.”

Liar, my conscience hissed, knowing the violent end I’d hoped to give the man myself. Perhaps I was more like Ophiucae than I wanted to admit.

He pulled out a small knife and held out his palm. “I fulfilled my end of our agreement.”

I offered my hand and gave no reaction when he sliced his blade across my flesh. He looked pleased at my stoicism. Shame rose at the way my chest warmed at his pride.

He swiped my blood across the lock. When the door swung open, I wasn’t sure either of us were prepared for what we saw.

To the Sophos Crowns’ credit, the number of books they withheld from their peers turned out to be not many at all. The room was nearly empty, with one plush chair at its center surrounded by a ring of stone pedestals, each topped with a soft cushion holding a single book.

Ophiucae’s eyes lit up. He walked the perimeter, letting his fingers glide across the covers as he read each book’s title, one by one. On the third, he rolled his eyes, knocking it to the floor. On the second to last, he stopped still. He lifted the book and sneered as an orange glow formed in his hand, then smoke began to rise.

I shouted, running forward to snatch the book away and smother it with the cushion to extinguish the flames.

He shrugged and left me behind, moving on to the final pedestal. An ominous smile slowly unfurled across his lips. He picked it up and held it out to me. “One more door to open.”

The book had been caged with lengths of godstone, secured with the circular disc of a bloodlock at its center. “Why would they do this?” I asked. “The room is already secure.”

“Some people only know one way to handle things they fear,” he said sourly. “Lock them up.”

I leaned closer to study it, but there was no title on its cover or spine. “What is it about?”

His eyes gleamed. “Only one way to find out.”

I hesitated. If someone had feared this book enough to guard it so tightly, was I a fool to unleash it? Especially now—especially to him?