30. Books and Weapons #2
Growling, Anara slammed her own palms onto the desk, her claws scratching the wood beneath her. The skogkatt hissed again, leaping from the desk and disappearing behind the curtain. “And where did your pacifism get your people? Your son will never wear his crown, and your husband—”
“Enough.” Though quiet, the one word held enough strength to surprise even Anara.
Anara ran her tongue along her teeth before she spoke again. “Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll leave. Trust me, I don’t want to remain here any longer than you want me here.”
Kiah leaned back in her chair, folding her delicate hands in her lap.
She shook her head, her short, spiraled hair bouncing with the movement.
“I can’t help you, Anara. Our people don’t take sides.
I won’t alert the Empress to your presence—you’re right, I don’t want her here—but I can’t help you find what you seek. ”
“Can’t or won’t?” Anara sneered. “Never mind, it’s the same thing to you, isn’t it, Regent Kiah?”
Anara knew she should stay, try and persuade Kiah, but there was no point.
A Smaragdian would only ever see their own needs.
Anara let her nails sink into the desk further, contemplating whether the threat of violence would compel Kiah to help them, but Darien’s annoying reminder played over in her mind.
They weren’t Shiko. They had to do things differently, or there was no point in doing them at all.
Anara turned, not toward the window to leave, but rather toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Panic entered Kiah’s voice.
But Anara was already sliding out into the hallway.
Kiah might not be willing to share her secrets, but Anara knew where she could find the answers regardless.
The Library of Seierbók was Smaragd’s greatest treasure.
Though no doubt it had been ransacked by the Empress, Anara knew what Shiko did not.
During her travels, she’d overheard a Smaragdian runaway speaking about a hidden subterranean level under the library that contained the Smaragdian historical texts.
Before they’d left the Vienám, Anara had confirmed with General Sture that there was indeed such a place.
If there was something written about the Norn, Anara was sure to find it there.
Spurred on by her resentment of Kiah’s inability to choose a side, Anara shifted, allowing her wings to guide her through the halls.
She ignored the looks of the aristocracy, winging into yet another hallway before the servants could decide whether or not they ought to get a broom to shoo her outside.
Anara found the stone steps that led to the lower levels and, confident she was alone, shifted back into her human form.
The unguarded library doors surrendered easily under her touch, and Anara slid between them.
She wrinkled her nose as the smell of a warm metallic blanket with a twinge of old paper washed over her.
Underneath the library’s odor, she caught the same scent of incense that seemed to have followed her from Kiah’s office.
She weaved between bookshelves, avoiding the librarians and meager bibliophiles.
Though perhaps she needn’t have bothered, as they all were consumed in the pages of the books they held to their faces.
Two women in particular discussed a line in one of the books, each commenting on how the author could have improved the passage.
The rows of shelves led on until Anara lost sight of the entrance.
It was nearly impressive how much literature Smaragd had collected and even retained over the years.
Nearly , she thought. It would be more impressive if they valued people as much as their precious books.
In the farthest corner, where Anara could no longer hear the library’s other occupants, she stopped.
The rich, earthy scent was stronger here, and the air was a few degrees cooler.
The entrance to the subterranean level had to be near.
Her hands trailed along the spines of the books.
The pads of her fingers pressed into books in a methodical fashion, knowing the trigger had to be near.
Her fingers stilled at the quiet patter of footsteps heading her way. With less patience, she pressed into the spines that nearly cracked under the pressure.
Come on, come on. Where is it?
The footsteps grew louder, though their owner was still hidden by the shelves. The overwhelming scent of incense wafted toward her along with something undeniably male.
Distracted, her fingers knocked a book from the shelf. The sharp tang of the underground greeted her senses. A small cylindrical latch presented itself in the gap caused by the missing book. When she turned it, the mechanisms behind the wall clanked in response.
A gap, so thin that even Anara’s advanced sight almost missed it, appeared at the end of the shelf.
As the approaching footsteps grew in volume, she pressed her body through the opening that widened incrementally around her.
Once through, she leaned against the wall, feeling it latch back into place.
She exhaled, not in relief, but in reluctant awe.
The only light in the small cellar was a lamp sitting on a table in the center of the room.
All four walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves, which was not all that remarkable apart from the books that sat upon them.
There were books on the creation of the cosmos; the first humans; the AEsir -Vanir War, followed closely by their joint war against the Jotnar; and stories of óeinn’s lost eye and Sif’s golden hair.
Anara’s fingers hesitated over the blood-red book titled The Binding of Fenrir .
Beside it was a book about Ragnarok and the Rising.
Anara pulled the tattered leather book from the shelf, knowing by Yggdrasil on the cover that it was the book she was searching for.
She fanned through the pages, her eyes scanning for the right words.
She paused at the illustration of the Norn sitting in Yggdrasil with the well wrapped in roots at its base.
The Norn, concealed in shadows, were only recognizable by their fiery red hair.
Their names shouted at her from the page as the story told of how the Norn had given the power of the gods to humans to ensure their survival post- Ragnarok .
Rúna, Larissa’s grandmother, even made an appearance in the story, but when she left and later returned to humanity, there was nothing about where she’d come from.
No landmarks, no directions. Nothing that would help them get to the Norn.
Dust billowed from the pages as Anara slammed the book in frustration. Though she scrutinized the other titles on the wall, she knew none of them would tell her what she needed to know. The Norn had protected their secrets too carefully.
“What’s the point of sending us to Smaragd?” Anara asked herself, pacing the length of the miniscule room. She lifted her head toward the ceiling. “Why not just tell us how to come to you?”
As expected, there was no answer. Anara growled in frustration. It was the sudden breeze in the stagnant room that cooled her temper.
Someone else was coming through the passage.
Anara pressed her back against the shelves, so that whoever it was would have to push past her to get inside.
The same smell of incense assailed her nose so forcefully that she nearly sneezed.
The shadow of a man slipped into the room.
Before he could notice her, Anara whirled on him, slamming her full strength into the man who’d dare pursue her.
She shoved him up against the bookshelf, hearing the wall click once again as it settled into place and locking the two of them inside.
She was as trapped as he, but those were odds that Anara could appreciate.
Bracing her forearm against his throat to prevent him from shouting for help, she hissed, “If you value your life, you’ll forget you ever saw me.”
To her surprise, the man smiled. He was annoyingly tall, tall enough that he was able to stare down at her when many others were not. As he was caught in the shadows, Anara could only make out his dark skin, emerald eyes, and the flash of his brilliant white teeth.
“And yet, I’m the only one of us who is armed,” he said.
Anara growled low in the back of her throat, her teeth elongated into fangs as her fingernails transformed into claws that scraped his throat. “I’m always armed.”
At that, his smile vanished, but a look of wary fascination replaced it. “So it’s true. You’re really a shifter. I didn’t think any of you still existed. Besides the draugr , of course.”
“You followed me because you were curious ?” Anara scoffed. “Idiot.”
“I followed you because I can help you.” His eyes narrowed. “Though you’re making it extremely difficult so far.”
Anara narrowed her eyes, keeping the pressure against his throat. Her ears flicked toward the secret entry, but from the silence on the other side, it seemed no one had heard their scuffle. “You’re Smaragdian. What help could you possibly offer me?”
He eyed her arm, raising his hands in surrender. “Do you mind?”
Anara pushed harder. “I do, actually. Tell me whatever it is you have to say before I get bored enough to finish what I started.”
Anger replaced fascination in his eyes. “Typical Rubinian. Straight to violence.”
“Typical Smaragdian, straight to deflection. If you have something to say, say it.”
He worked his jaw. “I can take you to the Norn.”
Anara nearly dropped her arm in surprise, but she forced her body to hold steady. “Why would I want to go to the Norn?”
“Isn’t that what you asked Regent Kiah for?”
“How do you know that? Who are you?”
There was something familiar about the shape of his nose and the fullness of his lips.
She shifted her body, letting more of the lamp light coat his face.
The light caught on the small emerald hoops and studs lining his ears, their shape and coloring so similar to the ring on Kiah’s hand and identical to the emeralds she’d seen in the dream Vereandi had sent.
“I’m Masai,” he said.
Loki’s knot. Anara had assumed that Kiah’s child had lived, but she’d never come into contact with him, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to look like that .
As if he could read her thoughts, a smug smile crept up his face.
She dropped her arm, stepping away from him as Masai rubbed at his neck.
“How did you know I was here?” Anara asked.
He raised an eyebrow, amusement back in his eyes now that he could breathe properly. “You didn’t think my mother wouldn’t have a way of alerting me to danger in our own home, did you?”
The fluttering curtain in Kiah’s office and the sharp smell of incense came back to Anara.
It was the same smell that coated Masai’s dark skin.
Anara assumed it had been from Kiah’s desk, but her eyes narrowed at the realization.
Had Masai been hiding behind the curtain and listening to their conversation?
Had the Smaragdians found a way to mask their scent?
It was clever, for a city filled with soft-hands, anyway.
“How do you know how to find the Norn?”
“Every Smaragdian royal learns the story.”
“Haven’t you heard? There is no Smaragdian royalty, only regent-puppets under the Empress’ command.”
Masai crossed his arms, but he leaned back against the bookshelf, unruffled by Anara’s insult. “The Norn said you wouldn't like me.”
Goosebumps raced down Anara’s arms. “What did you say?”
“The Norn,” he said slowly, his voice patronizing. “I assume you’ve heard of them.”
Anara’s hands twitched. “Start speaking or I’ll rip your throat out.”
“As fun as that sounds, it’s not necessary. The Norn told me you were coming and said you would need directions on how to find them. The moment you left my mother’s office, I followed you to pass on the Norn’s message.”
“I’m surprised a Smaragdian would help a Rubinian.”
He shrugged. “You don’t exactly argue with the gods.”
“You also don’t have to follow them blindly,” she said halfheartedly, but her mind was already running in a different direction.
Was Masai the reason the Norn had forced this little detour into Smaragd?
Still, Anara didn’t know him and certainly couldn’t trust him.
She would hear his message and leave him to the Norn and their dreams. “Give me the directions.”
“Not so fast. The Norn said I’m supposed to go with you.”
At that, laughter bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You? A soft-handed Smaragdian wants to rough it in the Myrkvier Forest in search of the goddesses of fate?”
Masai’s lips tightened. “In case you haven’t noticed, all of Treheim is encased in the forest.”
“Have you ever left your precious city?”
Masai shifted. “No.”
Anara smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
“You take me with you, and I’ll take you to the Norn. Or you leave without me and figure it out on your own. Up to you.” Masai folded his arms, matching Anara’s posture.
Her eyes trailed his face. If he’d been born soon after the fall of Smaragd, he had to be nearly fifty years old, yet he didn’t even look thirty. Anara paused. If his galdr was strong enough to stunt his aging, it would come in handy—if she accepted his offer, that is.
“Why?” Anara asked again. “Dreams from the Norn aside, why?”
Masai held Anara’s glare. Something in her expression must have made him realize only honesty would work. He uncrossed his arms. “My people deserve better than this.”
Anara shook her head, already regretting her decision, but they were out of options, and she was out of time.
Vereandi’s command rang in Anara’s ears: trust him .
Unlikely, but if this was the way to find the Norn, she would let him accompany them.
Besides, if she didn’t return to the others soon, she risked Larissa coming in after her with a foolhardy plan and a besotted Safírian.
“Fine, you can come. But if I catch so much as a hint that you’re leading us in the wrong way, I’ll put you down myself. Do you understand?”
Masai only smiled at the threat. “I’d like to see you try.”