Chapter 31
A t first, all I feel is lost and disoriented. I blink into the gloom, choking on dust as I try to suck in the breath that’s been knocked from my lungs.
“Aimee!” Hallam’s cry comes from somewhere above me.
Thank goodness. He’s okay.
I try to respond, only to wheeze, each breath a struggle.
Finally, I’m able to pull in stale air. My body chooses that moment to let my adrenaline ebb and all my pain flare to life.
My shoulder throbs with fierce stinging pain.
One hip is no better. It feels like I just rolled down a flight of stairs.
And, looking over my shoulder, it’s clear I pretty much did.
I lay at the base of a section of floor that has collapsed into the space below, part of it still angled like a steep stone slide. One I must have just bounced down.
“Aimee!” comes Hallam’s frantic cries again. Suddenly, he’s there, leaning over the opening on his knees, fingers gripping the shattered edge of the level above. Light illuminates his shocked and bewildered features.
“I’m okay,” I manage, the pain in my lungs dimming. Thank God it doesn’t feel like I broke a rib or punctured a lung. “Get back. It might collapse more.” Even as I say it, a few bits of debris crumble under his fingers and sprinkle onto the ground nearby.
“I’m coming to you,” he says, shoving to his feet with admirable determination.
“Don’t!” I cry. “It’s too dangerous. The others will have heard and…”
I trail off, suddenly sick to my stomach. From the rumbling and shaking sounds I heard, this wasn’t the only spot to collapse. They could be trapped. Crushed.
Ignoring the sharp aches in my body, I manage to push to my feet. I turn back to the opening and shout to Hallam, “We have to— No!”
But it’s too late. Hallam has scooted to the edge of the sharply angled, collapsed floor, cane across his lap, and begun a perilous slide down its length. My heart is in my throat as I stare in horror at his rapid descent. With his legs, he might—
He lands on his backside with a deep oof a few feet away. Of all the damnable reactions, he’s grinning as he uses his cane to shove to his feet once more.
“What the hell!” I yell.
He gives me a quizzical look.
“You could have gotten hurt!” I gesture wildly to the collapse.
“I couldn’t leave you down here alone,” he says, as if that should be obvious.
“I think this is far beyond the call of duty,” I say. “I’m fine.” Sort of. “And now we’re both stuck down here.” I gesture to the collapse again. “There’s no way we can climb back up that!”
Honestly, I might have been able to, with some trial and error, but Hallam with his cane? No way. And now he’s stuck me down here with him because there’s no way I’m leaving him alone when it could collapse further at any moment.
My breath comes sharp and quick. It’s not until I take in the thin press of his lips and stubborn expression that I realize I’ve been fuming with anger and dumping it all on him. I heave a sigh before pulling in one deep breath after another.
“I’m sorry, I just—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. As my anger starts to ebb, the aches return, and I almost wish I’d stayed mad.
“You are worried.” Hallam carefully crosses the few steps separating us before putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“As am I. But I was to look out for you, and I do not take the responsibilities granted by my king lightly.” He releases me and turns to the shadowed room. “Besides, this was not on our map.”
I blink into the gloom, finally trying to take in the space before me.
It’s much smaller than the room above. It seems the floor above collapsed into the edge of this space.
I squint at the three dark pillars before me.
No, not pillars. I blink again, hardly believing what I’m seeing.
They’re shelves. Still standing, even after all this time, save for two to the far right that have fallen over, spilling their contents onto the floor.
My gaze trails back across the debris-strewn ground to where we stand.
It’s not just wreckage from above that litters this place but the remnants of splintered shelving, crumbling papers, and leather bindings.
I lift my foot and gasp at the aged paper barely visible beneath the rubble.
Hallam summons one of the lights from the floor above, and it drifts down into the space. His mouth hangs open, eyes wide. “Holy ancient Mother.”
He wobbles on his cane, and I lurch forward to steady him.
“The library?” I suggest.
“No, it should be much further in,” he replies, barely a whisper, never looking away from the shelves before us.
He wanders forward, somehow managing not to trip, despite never looking down. I keep my hand on his arm the entire way and stumble forward with much less grace. But a few seconds later, we stand before what once was the middle shelf.
Hallam reaches a shaking hand up to the side, laying his palm over an elaborate design resembling a deer skull, complete with antlers, that’s carved into the wood. He closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. When he opens them, they sparkle with unshed tears.
“This is the private collection of the Unseelie royalty,” he says.
My breath draws short again for an entirely new reason.
“This is the symbol of the court, and you see this here?” He points to what looks like little light rays spreading out around the skull.
“A glow of power. The mark added to indicate royalty.” He shakes his head in awe.
“We saw mention just once of such a collection, but we thought it perhaps was kept in the royal wing. But it was here, literally right under us all this time.”
“A secret library.” I lean around the edge of the shelf, staring at the rows and rows of bound books. Some have literally crumbled, but others appear remarkably whole, almost new, as if spelled in a way to preserve them. I whip back around to Hallam. “This could hold the answers you need.”
“Yes,” he whispers, eyes still glistening. “Yes, it might.”
But only if Elias is okay.
All the hope of a moment ago leaves me in a rush. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and stare back at the hole in the floor. Surely, he would have come by now, if he could?
“We have to find a way out,” I say with sudden urgency. “Ancient royals didn’t just wait for the floor to collapse to get in here. There must be a door.”
Hallam finally drops his hand, his brow furrowing as he muses. “They could have shifted. But the use of such magic may have given away the library’s location.” He taps a finger to his lips. “A secret entrance then, perhaps?”
God, I hope so. I’ve already picked my way across part of the space, aiming for the wall opposite the shelf collapse.
It’s remarkably intact. Brightly painted illustrations cover the stonework.
The sight is arresting enough to stop me in my tracks, especially the central figure painted in miniature at eye level before me.
He wears all black armor, not unlike that of the current Unseelie King.
Deer-like antlers poke out from the top of his helm, an impressive rack of over a dozen sharp points.
Hoisted in one hand is a familiar blade, the silver paint used to illustrate it still gleaming despite how long it must have lingered here.
A violet aura emanates from it, silver point to onyx hilt.
But it’s the figure touching it that has my brows furrowing. She wears a dress with flowing layers of violet and silver, one hand reaching up as if to stop the blade from swinging down at her.
I pause, squinting at it. No, that can’t be right. The king is hoisting it in triumph, not swinging it down to kill.
I rub at the dust on the wall. When it comes away, I spy a new detail I’d missed, a few drops of ruby liquid—blood—falling from her hand to the ground below.
“What did you find there?”
I startle at the voice, letting out a little screech and turning so fast I nearly knock Hallam to the ground.
He reaches out faster than anyone should be able to and grabs my arm, steadying me. “Careful.”
“I got distracted by the artwork.” It sounds so petty and foolish when I think of the danger Elias and the others may be in.
Me, distracted, when they could be dying.
“Sorry. I’ll keep looking for a way out.
” I turn and start down the wall, though it looks completely void of a door, and filled with more distracting paintings.
“A former king and his queen,” Hallam says, taking in the painting. He begins speaking slowly in a fae language, and I can’t help but look back over my shoulder. His fingertips barely graze the wall, trailing along where I saw a few rows of swirling symbols.
I shake my head and take a few more steps, nearly at the end of the row. The wall is solid, nothing in sight. I reach the end and let out a huff of disappointment. It’s darker back here, but there’s definitely no opening in the wall to indicate an exit.
A startled exclamation rings out behind me. “Aimee, come see this!”
I rush back around the corner. “You found an exit?”
I slow as I take in Hallam still standing in front of the artwork. My lips thin. This is not the time—
“Fewli duena tuchiery,” he says.
No way. My blood runs hot and cold at once.
I skid to stop beside him, staring at where he points to what must be ancient fae words painted near the images.
“I thought it sounded like an ancient dialogue, and I believe it is.” He speaks quickly, excitement pouring from him. “Look here. See this phrase? Duena tuchiery. This passage describes the painting, the Unseelie King Mortem and his queen. His human queen.”
“Human?” I eye the painting with sudden intensity. Good God. It was so subtle I didn’t notice it the first time. But her ears are not elongated or pointed like a fae’s. They’re shorter, rounded. Human.
“Yes, yes,” Hallam nearly squeals with delight. “He found that she gave the blade more power, or rather, her blood. Specifically, I believe the passage reads ‘the blood of a human marked by the land.’”
I shake my head at that. “Marked by the land? How so?”
“I thought the word sounded a little familiar when you told me it yesterday, but it’s not a phrase we often use now. To be marked by the land is to bear the mark of the monarch who represents all Unseelie. They bear the mark and magic of the Unseelie royal, the power of the land itself.”
I have to put my hand on the wall to stay standing. “Fewli duena tuchiery is the blood of a human marked by an Unseelie. That’s why Wren’s blood didn’t work on the blade, nor mine.”
“Not just any Unseelie. I believe it must be one tied to the land. A monarch.” He rubs his chin. “Maybe an heir?”
My whole body feels like it’s been set on fire. “If the king and I… If we…”
I cover my mouth and lean against the wall, sliding a little way down its surface.
I could be what Elias needs to repower his sword. I could provide the missing ingredient for Matt’s potion, assuming we get the damn flower to grow.
“Oh my.” Hallam shuffles to my side. “Are you all right?”
I drop my hand from my mouth, staring at the dust on my skin, the little cuts I hadn’t noticed before that have almost stopped bleeding.
The answer is in my blood. Or rather, it can be.
I shove off the wall, ignoring Hallam’s concerned questioning. “I could be the solution.”
“Ah.” Some of the tension leaves his body and he takes me in appraisingly. “Yes. I quite believe you may be.” He grins, glancing up wistfully. “It is a good thing I followed you down here.”
“But we have to get out of here. We have to find Elias. If he’s lost, none of this matters.”
“Elias?” His voice holds more surprise than a question as his brows rise.
Shoot. “Kallan. The king.”
“Oh, I know.” His grin turns fond.
Somehow, that only makes me blush worse.
“He is alive,” Hallam says with certainty, one hand folded on top of the other on the ball of his cane.
That stops me in my tracks. “How can you know that?”
“Vibrations, remember?” He taps his cane on the ground for emphasis.
I sway, terrified to give wings to the hope fluttering in my chest. “You hear him.”
His grin widens.
And then I hear him too.
“Aimee!”
A half sob cracks from my throat before I call back, “Elias!”
He’s alive. He’s here.
Something explodes inside of me, radiating waves of warmth out from my chest that make every ache, pain, and worry vanish. I rush the few steps to the sloped section of the collapse, trying fruitlessly to climb up it as if hope alone would give me the ability.
But I don’t need to. Because a moment later, Elias is there, literally racing down it with inhuman grace and ease. He hasn’t even touched down onto the floor before he’s scoops me into his arms and pulls me tight against his chest.
“You’re alive,” he gasps into my hair.
“You’re safe.” I burrow my face into his tunic, breathing in his scent, savoring his warmth.
His hand comes around to grip my injured shoulder, and I flinch, letting out a soft little gasp of pain. He lets me go instantly.
“You’re hurt.” Elias pulls back, eyes searching me from head to toe.
“Bruised. A few cuts,” I admit. “Nothing bad. But you! The collapse! Katiya and the others?” I look past him, staring up through the opening to the floor above.
A familiar pink-haired form waves back.
“A tunnel collapsed,” he says. “We were blocked for a short time, but we are all safe.”
I let out a sigh and slump against his chest once more. “Thank goodness for that.”
Elias’s arm comes around me slowly, as if he’s afraid he might break me.
“I am—” His voice shakes.
I lift my head and finally get a good look at him. His eyes are wide and wild, hair partially pulled free from the tie behind his head. There’s a small cut along his cheek, still red with blood.
“I am so grateful you safe,” he says, voice stronger this time. He swallows thickly then blinks. The emotion in his eyes has calmed, as if tucked away and hidden. “We should treat your wounds. Get you cleaned up.”
“My king.” Hallam bows where he’s joined us just a few feet away.
“Thank you for watching over her,” Elias says, his arm coming around me even more to tuck me close to his body.
“Let’s get you both out of here. It’s too risky to stay.
” To me, he says, “I shouldn’t have brought you here.
If you’d been seriously injured, or killed? ” He grimaces. “What was I thinking?”
“Perhaps it’s good you did,” Hallam says, oblivious to his panic.
The king all but snarls at him. “What did you say?”
“Elias.” I lay a hand on his chest.
At my touch, he calms.
And finally, finally, I get to give him something for all the help he’s given me. “I think we found what you need.”