Chapter 24 Allaster
ALLASTER
“I APOLOGIZE AGAIN FOR MY ASSISTANT’S BEHAVIOR,” ALLASTER SAID in Ayadese, accepting a refill of coffee from the Queen.
One cup was more than enough but declining an offer of food or drink in Ayador was akin to spitting on someone, yet another mistake Eirlana had made.
He’d seen the face she’d made at the coffee, and he was only grateful it was Queen Sarren in season and not Queen Ayel, who would have taken offense.
Both were still better than their predecessors though, whose adherence to decorum had landed Allaster in trouble with Mora more than once.
Queen Sarren gave him a wry smile as they set the pot aside. “She is a spark that melts the snow. It reminds me of Mora.”
The words hurt less than Allaster expected them to, Mora’s name still a brand on his heart.
Perhaps because he’d thought the same himself these past few days, Eirlana a steady presence at his side.
He’d grown so comfortable with her reading beside him that he often forgot she was there until he heard the flutter of a turning page or the subtle inhale of breath that came every time she stumbled across something fascinating.
She came alive with books in a way she rarely did for anything else, and he couldn’t help comparing it to the way she had looked in the Eyrie that night he gave her magic.
As if the very core of her were broken.
He’d seen that look in her eyes before, though never so blatantly as that.
Like she was reading words from a script she knew so well, it no longer held any interest for her.
It was that part of her that still made him nervous.
That didn’t allow him to give her every truth despite May’s worsening predicament and his growing comfort with her.
She was still keeping secrets of her own, which was why he hadn’t wanted her to come with him on this mission.
He’d been seeking an audience with Queen Sarren for days now in search of more henolite, and Eirlana had already noticed the increased presence of it on his body.
He didn’t need her wondering why he was asking for more.
“I wish I could have answered your request sooner, but the threat of the ice has kept me occupied for weeks,” the Queen said.
“Even our most potent heat crystals haven’t managed to thaw it, and the impact extends far beyond the tyvna fields.
Coffee, grain, rice—every northern farm has been impacted, and the royal stores are running low. ”
“The Library has plenty in reserve. I can release some to you.” Allaster sipped his coffee, doing his best to remain polite without ingesting too much more.
He already felt as if he were buzzing in his seat, the roil of magic in his veins growing more painful.
“However, the cause of these disasters must be addressed. I understand your desire to remain neutral, but I beg you to consider the consequences. If Kalthos’s war on beasts is left unchecked, these calamities will only grow. ”
“Careful, Librarian,” Queen Sarren said wryly. “It almost sounds as if you’re taking sides.”
Allaster inclined his head. “Merely stating facts, Your Majesty. With Ayador the foremost trader among the six nations, Kalthos is dependent on your exports in a way it is not on Amorlin. I’m simply suggesting they might be more open to your concerns than mine.”
“Indeed,” the Queen mused.
With any of the other three rulers, Allaster would have toed a firmer line, but Queen Sarren had always enjoyed this game.
They were the most likely of the four to listen to him, and with the rising number of natural disasters across the continent, the opportunity to take action was swiftly dwindling.
If he could convince the other nations to pressure Kalthos into slowing its murderous rampage, it could help maintain the balance of magic long enough for the union of Nyelle’s daughter and the Kalish Prince to bear fruit.
Queen Sarren sighed, tilting their head onto their hand. “I will never understand their silly concern for the afterlife. Death is death; we are all equal in it.”
“The Kalish do not see it that way, Your Majesty,” Allaster replied, trying not to let his frustration with the familiar conversation grow.
He’d had it with Queen Sarren once already, and with Queen Ayel before that, as had Mora with many an Ayadese queen.
Their seasonal gods did not clamor about souls; in death, all returned to nature as one.
It was a common enough refrain across the other realms, where sin held no equal.
Only Jacara came even a little close, where they believed those most worthy could return as Revenants to guide future generations.
It made it difficult to get any of them to take the Kalish zealousness as a serious threat.
“Mm, so you say.” Queen Sarren let their hand drop. “I will consider your request.”
It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do.
“Thank you.” He inclined his head.
“Your Majesty?” Ryn appeared in the doorway, notebook in hand. “The council is ready to convene.”
“I’ll be there in moment,” the Queen replied, and Ryn bowed before departing. “I’ve begun to worry your Assistant has gotten lost.”
Allaster rose with a quiet scoff. “Knowing her, she probably found some trouble or another to get into.” He wanted to dive into the magic to check where Eirlana had gone, but he didn’t dare access it again so far from the Library.
The draw on it was too great, the effect on his body intensifying with every use.
He’d felt the claws tipping his fingers when he’d returned from relocating the Syovar, and even now he could barely restrain them.
It felt as though someone were scraping him clean from the inside out, as if, eventually, the magic would burst from his body, the creature it would give birth to discarding him like a serpent’s skin.
Mora had warned him of this. Told him it would worsen over time, its presence an indication he was nearing the end, but he hadn’t realized how badly it would hurt. Mora had borne it as she had all things, alone in her stoicism, when all Allaster wanted was a very stiff drink.
“There is one other thing I’d hoped to speak to you about, Your Majesty,” he said with some effort as the Queen led him back out into the garden. “Last time I was here, you gave me some raw henolite. I was hoping you would have more of it?”
“I’m afraid I gave you the last of our stores that day.
” Queen Sarren’s sharp eyes flicked from rings to torc.
They had never asked why he wore the jewelry, just like he had never asked about the yellow kyda crystal they always had about their wrist. Each crystal color had a different purpose, and yellow dulled pain.
To wear a piece that large for so long, the Queen likely dealt with something both chronic and severe.
Allaster swallowed his disappointment, trying not to let it give way to despair.
He’d used the last of his henolite a few days ago.
It had been worth coming here despite knowing he’d have to risk using his magic so far from the Library, but if he couldn’t find more henolite, he wouldn’t be able to slow the transformation any longer.
Every time he used his magic, he would grow closer to losing himself to it, and Eirlana—
“Perhaps Avaria?” Queen Sarren suggested offhandedly, as if it were the first time they had probed Allaster about the Library’s connection with the ice kingdom. The Queen seemed convinced they were in communication, never quite accepting Allaster’s assurances otherwise.
“The door is still shut,” Allaster replied, as he always did.
“Pity,” the Queen said as they crossed the glass bridge from the garden. “I must admit my curiosity abounds where Avaria is concerned. Do you truly believe the ice kingdom lives?”
It was as common a theory as any other that Avaria’s silence was not self-imposed, but the result of there being no one left to speak.
The weather had always been harsh in the north, the possibility of dragon fire a constant threat, and the changing weather patterns only made it more likely the climate had worsened beyond the point of survival.
It was quite possible there was nothing left beyond the Terasor Mountains but ash and snow.
“Perhaps one day we’ll find out,” he said as they neared the portal room door.
“Perhaps,” the Queen agreed. “Your Assistant—”
“Is right here.” Eirlana stepped into the alcove, looking very much like she needed to sleep for a hundred years.
It didn’t surprise him, considering the amount of magic she had used.
What he didn’t expect was the blossoming bruise on her cheek and the way she held herself, as if favoring countless unseen injuries.
“Where have you been?” he asked with a heat that surprised them both.
“Walking,” Eirlana ground out.
His eyes narrowed at her, and she glared back at him with a look that dared him to press her.
He’d never seen this side of her, bristling with emotion like a shield.
She wasn’t mad at him; she was defensive, curling about herself like an injured beast, and Allaster didn’t know what shocked him more: the sudden urge to comfort her that stole over him, or the one that sought to know the source of her pain so he could crush it.
Queen Sarren’s gaze switched between them before they said, “I have a few new candidate applications for you, Lord Librarian. I will send them after the council has convened. I look forward to your response.”
Allaster broke his staring contest with Eirlana to bow to the Queen, fist to heart, and Eirlana belatedly did the same.
Then he pulled open the Library door and stepped through after Eirlana.
It swung shut of its own accord behind them, and Eirlana collapsed into his chair.
He closed the space between them in one long stride and seized her chin, tilting her face up to the light.
It took every ounce of his control to steady his voice as he asked, “Who did this to you?”
His intensity seemed to still her, and for a moment, he was aware of nothing but the burn of her skin against his, his thumb a brush away from her lips.
Then her hand found his, gently pulling it away. “Morvir struck me after I refused to bring back his sword. The rest is from the Syovar.”
He didn’t believe her. The way her eyes dulled like a candle smothered by its own wax—what wasn’t she telling him?
His fingers curled into his palm, and she offered him her best reassuring smile as she rose to her feet. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing I can’t hand—”
She took one step before her knees buckled, and she collapsed.
He caught her before she hit she ground. “Eirlana? Eirlana!” She didn’t stir, and he gathered her swiftly into his arms, teleporting the short distance to the infirmary. His arrival startled Warrin, who was bent over the counter cleaning tools.
“Saints, what did you do now?” he demanded with uncharacteristic boldness.
“It wasn’t me!” He laid Eirlana on the nearest bed. “I think it’s the magic drag. She used too much and—” He cut off as his words bled together, all too aware of the adrenaline pounding through him, the sheer panic, and what it meant.
When had he begun to care for her like that?
He stepped back as Warrin approached, watching through a haze as the healer checked Eirlana’s vitals.
He had to get control of himself. Emotions like this—they were dangerous between Librarians and their Assistants.
Eirlana didn’t know the truth about him, about what would happen if he failed to prevent his transformation, a possibility that seemed more likely with every passing day.
He should have told her by now—she deserved to know—but this was bigger than naming her as his Assistant, bigger than granting her magic. For her to know the truth about his transformation, about the responsibility he would hang on her shoulders, he didn’t just need to trust her with the Library.
He needed to trust her with his life.