Chapter sixteen
Eisa
“I think we’re lost,” Branka hissed, her words muffed by the fabric of her hood.
She was correct. The castle was a maze, and I was certain I had taken a wrong turn somewhere.
We shuffled along hallway after hallway, keeping our faces toward the ground and trying to remain unnoticed by everyone who passed.
“Should we ask someone?” I suggested.
“That would give us away immediately,” she hissed back.
“Wandering the hallways in circles will also have that effect.”
I swayed on my feet, a wave of pain momentarily catching me off guard.
“You alright?” Branka grabbed my elbow to steady me. “Shit, you’re pale. We should have waited until tomorrow to do this.”
“Tomorrow was supposed to be the handfasting,” I reminded her, breathing deeply until the pain was safely tucked away again. “I’m fine.”
Branka squeezed my arm, but she didn’t argue. It was one of the things I loved about her. When I had my mind set on something, Sigrid would try to temper my flame. Branka would hand me kindling.
“Alright then, ask Arik.”
I felt like an idiot. Of course I should ask my mate, who grew up here.
Arik. I hoped he was already safely in his mother’s chambers with Jorgen.
Alright, Kjaere? His voice was strangely faint, as if a wall separated us, and I wondered if there might be iron in the stones and doors of the castle after all. I hadn’t expected it to be so difficult.
We’re lost. I tried my best to send a mental picture to him of the hallway and the tapestries that surrounded us. I think we made a wrong turn somewhere.
There was a long pause while I waited for a reply. Go back down the hall you’re in. Turn left, not right.
I nodded, gesturing to Branka to follow. Why are you so quiet?
Suddenly, Branka grabbed my hand and dragged me to one of the alcoves that lined the hallways. Most were used to hold sconces, but one nearby held a tapestry. She pushed me behind it, then tucked the weaving back into place before us.
“What are we doing?” I hissed, trying my hardest not to sneeze.
“Look!” She nodded to a sliver of light between the stone wall and the tapestry, and I could just barely see the hallway.
A skald shuffled along the corridor in an almost comical resemblance of Branka’s imitation. His hood was lowered, and wispy white hair gathered at his temples and in patchy spots along his jaw.
“We’ll follow from a distance,” Branka said, clutching my hand. “Tell me when he’s just out of sight.”
“You have no idea where he’s going!” I argued, watching as the dark blue robes swished slowly down the corridor until, at last, his frame disappeared behind the wall.
“Do you have a better idea?” Branka hissed, shoving me forward. I didn’t have time to argue as I found myself standing on the opposite side of the alcove. “Come on!”
Arik. I realized he still hadn’t replied, and a prickle of concern lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. Idunn?
They are fine. She sounded uncertain, but I knew she would tell me immediately if she sensed any danger. Something is strange though.
Iron?
She flickered agitatedly. I am not sure.
Keep trying them.
We followed the skald at a tedious shuffle, trying to keep him in our sights without alerting him to our presence.
When he stopped in the middle of the hallway before a vast set of doors, I had to quickly backtrack so as not to be spotted.
“Oof,” Branka murmured as I walked right into her. “What is it?”
“I think we’re here.” I peeked around the corner again to see the skald fumbling with a key. “We should wait a few minutes before–” I stopped as the sound of a familiar voice behind us made my blood run cold.
The king.
“In here.” Branka tugged me across the hall to another door, which was of course locked. Her eyes went wide with panic. “Shit, hold on.”
She crouched a little until her face was level with the door handle and blew. I felt Bryndis coming forward and saw her eyes shift to gold slits as a jet of fire emerged between her lips.
The lock gave way into melted metal. Branka pushed me inside the room and closed the door quietly behind us.
It was a broom closet. Branka nearly tripped over me as something with a hard, wooden handle hit me in the shoulder. She pressed her hand over my mouth to muffle my cry of pain.
“Shhh!”
“Tell that to the mop,” I hissed, rubbing my sore shoulder as Branka released me. “Where did you learn to do that?”
Could we do that? I added to Idunn.
Probably. Idunn sounded thoughtful. I never considered a partial shift. It raises interesting possibilities.
“Jorgen taught me,” Branka whispered back, her ear pressed to the door. “Listen.”
“…still ill, sire. Should I send for the healers in the city?”
I didn’t recognize the voice speaking, but I definitely recognized the owner of the voice that replied.
“No. No healers. It will be good for him to…”
The rest was lost to me as their voices faded down the hallway.
“They think you’re still sick,” Branka suggested, tugging me back from the door. “Perhaps Arne’s doing?”
“Perhaps.” I frowned. It made sense, pretending I was still abed so that we would be left alone. I wondered why Arne and Arik hadn’t mentioned it as part of their plan.
“I think it’s safe.” Branka tugged at my arm and poked her head out of the door. “Let’s go.”
I winced down at the lock, which was clearly unusable. “Here’s hoping we are long gone when someone discovers this.”
Branka snorted. “A melted lock will be the least of our worries.”
We ran back across the hall and stopped before the enormous doors of the archives. Like every other door in the castle, this one was carved with wolves, who snarled down at us as I fumbled with the key around my neck.
“If Arik does become king, he should definitely redecorate,“ Branka hissed.
“He’s not going to be king,” I insisted, feeling the lock click open.
“Hey.” Branka nudged my arm, her gaze meaningful. “You know he’d be a great one.”
The thought had occurred to me too, how much good Arik could do as king.
But it wouldn’t be worth it if the path to the throne was littered with the bones of his subjects, which is exactly what would happen if the king got his war.
Not only would the fae likely decimate our numbers, but the odemarksdyr would go unchecked in the south.
Death on two fronts.
“Let’s just start with the Book,” I murmured, easing open the giant doors.
I was afraid they would squeak loudly, but the doors opened smoothly and silently into the dusty archives.
Dusty was really the best descriptor of the room.
I’d have thought that a place of such importance would be carefully cared for, but there were long streaks showing where books had been pulled from shelves.
Fingerprints marred every surface. It was as if the skalds were too protective of their dominion to allow something as undignified as a feather duster into their holy space.
“Split up?” Branka mouthed, pointing to the opposite side of the room. Shelves were lined throughout the center of the space with two aisleways passing down each side.
I nodded, taking the side that was punctuated by stained glass windows so dirty with age and grime that they did very little to lighten the space.
Branka disappeared down her aisle, and I moved slowly, as if I were looking for a particular book but couldn’t remember where it was.
There were a few other skalds present, most with their hoods down, but I kept mine up and over my pointed ears and braid hoping that it wasn’t that unusual for one of their number.
I nodded at my feet as I passed, but no one whispered a greeting or asked me who I was. It was like the room absorbed every sound other than the soft swish of turning pages and the scrape of leather on wood.
I was about six shelves deep when Idunn balked.
What is it? I have to keep moving!
Idunn growled in irritation, but she obliged, letting me go as she grumbled, Something is not right.
Are we in danger? I glanced across the next shelf to the other side of the archives, where a similar form in blue robes was moving just a hair too fast. Branka.
No. Idunn paused, as if trying to find what was setting her on edge. I’m not sure. What do we do when we find the Book?
Find a way to get it out?
I’m so glad you’ve thought this plan through, Idunn huffed.
I’m open to suggestions.
We shift and shatter the windows.
I rolled my eyes, ducking my head as I passed another skald. Very discreet.
Dragons are not discreet, Idunn intoned haughtily.
I had reached the final shelf of the archives, and there was still nothing resembling a tome of great historical and magical importance. No thrum of Chaos calling me in any particular direction.
I paused at the final shelf, peeking around the corner to see a wooden lectern with a large, leather-bound tome atop it.
That must be it.
Idunn sniffed uncertainly, but I caught Branka’s eye and nodded toward the lectern. She took a quick glance behind her, then moved to join me. “Is that it?”
“I think so.”
“Arik didn’t tell you anything else?” She asked incredulously. “No hidden doorways or secret codes or anything?”
I frowned. “It’s not a fairytale, Branka.”
She gave me a wry look. “It’s a magical book about the history of dragonkind. It may as well be.”
An elderly skald shuffled out from a nearby shelf, and we sank back into the shadows. “We need the skalds to leave,” I hissed.
“On it.” Branka turned back toward the front of the library, shuffling far too swiftly to be a skald.
What is she doing? I asked Bryndis.
A pause, and then golden sunshine filled my mind. She is lighting one of the chairs on fire, Drekadrottning.
She’s what?!
The next moment there was shouting and crackling, and the old skald near us let out a cry as he fled to the scene of the disaster.
Go now, Idunn commanded. Grab it!
I didn’t hesitate, running toward the lectern and praying no one would see me as I snatched the book off the podium and returned to my shadows, breathing heavily.
This is it? The cover was a deep green leather stamped with embossed golden lettering I couldn’t read, and it was surprisingly small for such an important artifact.
I flipped through a few pages to make sure it was the right thing, and was met with an illustration of the different dragons and their sizes.
I frowned, waiting for the Book to do something more exciting, but nothing happened.
I thought it would be more magical.
Idunn reached out through my senses, examining the book as well. I knew my eyes glowed blue as she looked over each page with me. Something isn’t right.
“How do we get it out of here?” Branka startled me as she appeared at my side, and I snapped the book shut. I’d have to look at it more closely when we weren’t at risk of being caught. “Is that it?”
I nodded, slipping the Book beneath the scratchy robes. I had to hold it against my torso to stop it from falling to the floor, which made it look as if I were hunched in pain.
Just playing to my strengths, I supposed.
“Hold my arm as if you’re helping me,” I suggested, beginning to shuffle back to the entrance. “If anyone asks, mutter something about illness and don’t stop.”
“The fire is already out, but I can say you breathed in smoke or something?”
I nodded, hobbling along and trying not to garner the attention of the other skalds.
But when we reached the doors and looked back, there were no skalds in the library at all. We were completely alone.
Branka laughed. “That was almost too easy.”
“Branka, wait—“
The laugh died on her lips as she threw the door open to find the king, a ring of guards with swords drawn surrounding him, and several elderly skalds, some with dark smudges of ash on their robes, cowering against the stone wall behind him.
The king held out his hand as he glowered at me. “The Book. Now.”