Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
LYRA
Iawoke the next morning tangled up with Kaden, a plan fully formed in my mind. Carefully disentangling myself from the prince’s long limbs, I slipped out of bed, dressed in my fighting leathers, and left him asleep in our quarters.
Moving silently through the fortress, I took the now familiar path across the narrow footbridge that separated the soldiers’ barracks from the princess’s private rooms.
I encountered no one in the corridors, apart from the two Drathen guards stationed outside of Sorsha’s chambers. The pair eyed me warily as I slipped into the winding staircase that led down to the Repository, but neither of them tried to stop me.
My heart beat faster as I walked down the long stone tunnel and pulled open the heavy double doors.
Unlike the rest of the fortress, the Repository was just as lively as it had been when we’d visited at normal hours.
Monks wandered between the tall stacks, putting away books and scrolls or else adding to their own piles laid out on the polished oak tables.
A feeling of quiet awe overtook me as I approached the shelves, marveling at the astounding array of volumes bound in leather and silk. Many were written in languages I didn’t recognize, with odd symbols crawling up the spines in faded gold lettering.
Faelights flitted into my path as I ascended the narrow stone staircase leading to the second level, illuminating the carved wooden signs denoting each section of shelves (Creatures: magical, amphibious; creatures: magical, avian).
My head swam as I contemplated where to begin my search, lungs filling with the musty scent of old parchment and binding glue.
“Can I be of service?” came a clear, quiet voice from behind me.
My heart leapt as I whirled, hand automatically drifting to one of the daggers sheathed at my thigh, before I remembered that I was in a library and unlikely to be attacked so long as I wasn’t dog-earing pages or sloshing liquids around the ancient tomes.
Looking down, I found myself facing a diminutive monk with a shaved head and kind, dark eyes. He wore loose-fitting linen robes secured with a silk belt embroidered with the same odd symbols carved into the doors of the Repository.
“Um, I’m looking for a book,” I said, feeling a little foolish.
The monk smiled. “Then you are in the right place.”
I hesitated. I was unaccustomed to asking strangers for help, and I hardly dared give voice to the information I sought. Part of me was afraid of being overheard by the wrong person; the other part was terrified of what I might find.
If I’d hinged my plan on an incorrect assumption . . . Well, better to know now than later.
“If your search is of a sensitive nature,” the monk pressed, correctly interpreting my silence, “you could write it down.”
Reaching into his pocket, he produced a scrap of parchment and a stick of charcoal, which he pressed into my hands.
I chewed my bottom lip. Sorsha had said the monks cared only for the pursuit of knowledge, but that didn’t mean they would guard my secret if they were tortured by Semphrys’s demons.
On the other hand, the Repository was massive, and I had very little time. Without the monk’s help, it would likely take hours to find the information I needed, and I didn’t have hours.
So, I scribbled my inquiry on the piece of parchment and handed it back to the monk. His eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing — just turned and wandered into the stacks.
I was halfway up the winding staircase when I felt a soft tug on the mating bond. Opening a pathway in my mental hedge, I allowed that brilliant golden thread to wind its way through the thorny branches until I could feel Kaden fully.
Where have you gone, little huntress? he purred into my mind.
I had something to take care of.
So secretive. I was hoping I might take care of you this morning.
We’re about to fly into battle, and that’s all you can think about?
You are all I think about.
I smiled to myself, then remembered I was angry with Kaden for concealing what he knew about the sire bond. My swirl of relief and gratitude from the night before had faded, and in the cold light of day as we prepared for battle, his omission cut deep.
What’s wrong? he asked, concern lacing his tone as he felt whatever tangle of emotions I’d sent pulsing down our shared pathway.
I considered having it out with him right then and there, but at that moment I rounded another bend in the stairwell and nearly smacked into Adriel.
I put a hand to my chest as my heart skittered erratically and gently closed the opening I’d made for the bond. “You scared me,” I mumbled, frowning up at the royal guard. “What are you doing down here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he said, an edge of accusation in his tone.
“Research,” I said, moving to go past him on my way up the stairs.
But Adriel’s hand flew out, capturing my wrist, and a bolt of unease shot down my spine. “What are you up to, Lyra?” he growled, his tone low and menacing.
Furious, I yanked my arm out of his grip and turned toward the royal guard.
I wanted to tell him it was none of his godsdamned business and that he should be more concerned about the secrets his best friend was keeping.
But before I could speak, there was a loud groan of a door opening, and I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Adriel froze.
A single ball of faelight bobbed into view, and Sorsha rounded the bend. “Oh, good. You found her,” she said to Adriel, her shoulders sagging in relief. To me, she added, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Siran invited us to stay for morning mess, but then we must be on our way.”
On our way to Dorthus, where we’d face the demon king’s army.
Swallowing thickly, I nodded and followed her up the steps, trying to ignore the prickle of Adriel’s gaze along the back of my neck.
He couldn’t know what I’d done, could he? Even if he didn’t, he sure suspected something. My plan had to work. There was no other option.
By the time we reached the top of the stairs, Kaden was pacing outside Sorsha’s suite, dark wings flaring behind him. His expression softened when he saw me, though I didn’t miss the flicker of anxiety in his eyes.
The four of us made our way to the mess hall, where the first rays of golden light were streaming in through the high windows.
Dozens of Drathen soldiers were already seated at the long benches, tucking into platters of greasy sausage, boiled eggs, and filets of that oily white fish I’d sampled on our last visit.
There were also tureens of lumpy porridge cooked with dried fruit and baskets of hard brown biscuits.
Despite the growing lump of dread in my stomach, I found I was ravenous. I piled my plate with sausage, eggs, and two of the biscuits, though I avoided the slimy-looking fish and porridge.
Sorsha, too, started filling her plate, but Kaden didn’t touch the food.
As the room continued to fill with soldiers, he turned and made his way to the front of the hall.
Dark eyes followed his every move until he stood beside the head table, where Siran was deep in conversation with one of his lieutenants.
The captain looked up as Kaden approached, irritation flashing in his eyes.
A hush spread through the crowd as the soldiers took notice of Kaden, but he waited until the hall fell silent.
“I’m sure many of you are wondering why I am here,” he said, tucking in his wings as he strode the length of the hall. “You know who I am. Son of Elowynn. Bastard prince. But I am not your king.”
More silence greeted that statement, and my stomach clenched.
“Just a few days ago, Euroshean forces attacked the village of Klod?sch, murdering innocent fae, setting fire to their homes, and destroying their businesses. The attack was unprovoked. Many innocents were killed, especially the old, the young, and the infirm.”
A round of frantic murmurs swept through the hall. Some narrowed their eyes in disbelief; others looked downright hostile.
“Why should we believe you?” boomed one soldier, standing to face Kaden. He was tall and broad with a shadow of scruff and the look of a seasoned warrior. “The demon prince who hides away in Dorthus to do the Dark King’s bidding.”
More rumblings fanned out across the hall, and I grimaced at the rage that flashed in Kaden’s eyes.
When he spoke, his voice was low and deadly. “You needn’t believe me,” he said. “You need only to remember what you already know.”
Kaden started to pace again, not sparing another glance in the direction of the male glaring at him from across the hall.
“Two hundred years ago, Alfrigg’s soldiers drove your families from their homes in Aerdale.
He burned their houses, raped their females, murdered their younglings in their beds.
Any male who refused to fight for the false king was forced to his knees and executed in front of his loved ones.
Alfrigg banished our people to the fringes of Anvalyn, and still he is not content. ”
The murmurs around me grew angrier, but I couldn’t tell if the whispers were expressions of outrage against Alfrigg or Kaden.
“He doesn’t just want the Drathen fae relegated to the most inhospitable corners of the continent.
He wants them exterminated. He seeks to repopulate Anvalyn with fair-haired fae who recognize him as the one true king.
” Kaden stopped, his throat bobbing. “Even though much of the land he now rules was secured through a peaceable alliance struck by Queen Elowynn.”
“Cursebringer,” spat a fae to my left.
Kaden’s gaze shot to the soldier who’d spoken, and the look he gave the male could have melted glass. “Do you call her Cursebringer because you believe she caused the blight that is spreading across the continent, or because she was forced to bear a youngling conceived from rape?”
The hall fell silent.