Chapter Fifteen #2
My steps echoed against the stone walls in the silence of the room.
Given the number of books that were stored here, it might not be as easy to find a dictionary as I thought it would be.
And the Tome of Fates? Even harder. I observed the silver labels, passing multiple history shelves divided by years, and books written in Latin, Hungarian, German, French…
and so many more, when I heard a soft knock from a few rows down.
I followed the noise cautiously, stepping into the narrower part of the library.
Tables were scattered here, like forgotten thoughts.
Preston Davenport was sitting at one of them, his head bent over a chessboard, as if he’d been born in that exact position—arrogant and undisturbed.
He knew Latin, he’d proven that more than once, smugly flaunting his knowledge whenever the opportunity arose.
He would be able to translate Lilian’s words faster than I could find a dictionary and do it myself.
But then again, I would really hate to ask him for a favour.
I stepped back into the shadow of the bookshelf, indecisive.
Using him would be smart, but I’d have to endure that stupid smug look on his unfairly handsome face.
Let them think whatever they want. Let them celebrate their victory. The moment they believe they’re in control, striking will be effortless.
My mum’s words rang in my mind, firm and unyielding.
She was right. Why would I care what he thinks as long as I get what I want?
I hid the book behind my back, my fingers numbing as I drifted to where he was sitting.
I studied the pieces. “Move the white knight to E4.”
His fingers paused above the board. His eyes flicked up through a curtain of gold-touched hair, locking onto mine. I expected mockery. Instead, for a breath, there was something sharp and dangerous in his expression. But it vanished when he blinked.
“You play?” he asked, his voice low and lazy.
I tilted my head. “And you speak Latin.”
A slow smirk curled his lips. “Callidus es nonne?” His long fingers moved the white knight to the E4, before he leaned back in his seat. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On who’s asking.”
I sat without waiting for permission and moved a bishop forward without looking. “I’m asking. I need a translation.”
Preston leaned back further like a cat who’d just been tossed a mouse. “You do.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement said with too much amusement for my liking.
There was an edge in his voice that prickled my skin. I stared at him, and he did the same. His gaze burned into mine, surveying me with interest. I clenched my jaw, my teeth clacking together harshly.
“Can you help me or not?” I asked, and his smile sharpened.
“Let’s hear it.”
I tried to recall exactly how Lilian had spoken the words. “Tenebrae vorant tenebrae rapiunt et ex iis regnamus.”
A low hum escaped his lips as he rested his head on one hand. His expression was infuriatingly smug, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Quid mihi prodest?” he asked smoothly.
I stiffened, my nostrils flaring. “Just translate it,” I said, quieter now.
His poisonous smile spread wider. “What’s in it for me?”
I scoffed. Of course he wanted something. Everyone always wants something.
“What do you want?”
He lifted a finger to his bottom lip, pretending to think, but I was sure he already had something in mind.
“Tell me, poison, why are you lurking around at night?” he leaned forward, his words no more than whispers, as if he too felt someone listening. “What’re you looking for?”
What was I looking for? “Nothing,” I answered without blinking. He was still for a moment, then turned his attention back to the chessboard, making another move, clearly not satisfied.
I groaned. Not with sound, just internally.
“I’m trying to learn more about my mum,” I admitted. “Now tell me what the words mean.”
His green eyes flashed darkly at me, like he was contemplating believing me or not. Then, he leaned forward once more, every movement deliberate, tense. “Darkness consumes, darkness takes, and from it, we rule. Roughly… your pronunciation is horrendous.”
A grim twisted on my lips. Darkness consumes, darkness takes.
Why would Lilian say this during a business meeting?
I pushed my chair back, the sound shattering the tense silence.
I had no intention of staying any longer.
But before I could stand, his hand darted out and pressed firmly over mine.
My blood ran cold at the sudden contact.
“Keep digging, and you’ll get buried with the bones,” he lowered his voice, his green eyes fathomless.
“Are you threatening me?”
A pause. A smile, cruel and sharp, curled on his lips. “When I threaten you, I promise, you won’t need to ask.”
When. Not, if. A chill threaded down my spine, but it passed quickly.
His words were only intimidation dressed as poetry.
But I wouldn’t let him get to me. I blinked once, then yanked my hand free of his, my fingers brushing coldly against his one last time.
Whether it was a threat or not, Preston Davenport wasn’t someone I would ever come to trust.
I turned on my heel and walked away, back toward where I left Hudson, only to find him gone.