Chapter Twenty-Six #2
The door is exactly where the queen said it would be: tucked into a narrow alcove beside the shrine of the Weeping Saint, barely visible beneath an arch of stone.
Ezra tests the handle. It opens with a soft groan.
He pushes it open just wide enough for us to slip through.
Inside, the scent of old parchment and wood polish hovers around me like a cloak.
The Ironshield Keep’s library is nothing like the one at Ivystone.
It’s cavernous, its ceilings vaulted and laced with slender buttresses, its walls lined floor-to-ceiling with arched bookcases.
Gold filigree gleams along the spines of thick tomes.
In the center of the room, narrow tables are arranged in perfectly straight lines, each one stacked with neatly arranged scrolls and catalogs.
The windows are shuttered to protect the books from damaging light.
It feels like we’ve stepped into a sanctum. Something secret and sacred.
“When can I move in?” Nadya asks, gaping at the walls of bookshelves.
“I’m sure they’d let you, if you marry Lord Marcos,” I tease.
“I prefer the princess,” Nadya retorts, “but I think she’s got her eye on someone else.”
My gut sours at her words, though I know deep down, Dante wouldn’t choose her over me. At least, I don’t think he would. Unless King Silas suddenly has a change of heart and wants to unify Hedera with Podrosa instead of Delasurvia.
Once we’re sure no one will disturb us, we waste no time.
I pry open a pair of shutters so we don’t have to work in the dark.
Nadya takes the far end of the room, rifling through indexes while Ezra and I split off toward the tomes labeled by era and subject.
The sunlight bathes rows upon rows of gilded script and brittle scroll cases.
It’s overwhelming—so much history, so many voices pressed between dusty pages—but I try to trust the pull in my gut, hoping it leads me to what we need.
We search for books that might mention fae, witches, or rituals that hide magic. Even if the subject comes close, we flip through as if searching for buried treasure. I read a dozen passages. A dozen more. Each promising something, each ending in a dead end.
I glance at the clock. We’ve been here an hour and haven’t gotten any further to understanding anything. Even a small clue would make this stealth mission worth it.
On a sigh, I move on to the next bookcase in the row, gliding my fingertips along the spines as I read them.
When I come across a tome titled The Turn of the Fae, I slip it out and bring it to the nearest table.
The pages don’t reveal text as much as illustrations in a variety of styles, telling me there wasn’t just one person who contributed to the book.
The first section is about ancient fae, and the word ancient is fully befitting, because the illustration depicts the fae walking along with and interacting with the gods.
And the fae drawings resemble the ones I used to see in children’s books, with wings and pointed ears, the air shimmering around them.
According to this book, this is what the ancient fae people looked like.
“Ezra,” I call, since he’s supposed to be the smartest one in the room. “Do you believe the fae used to look like this?”
He comes over, bending a bit to see the illustration better. “Ah, yes. They were believed to have been molded from the image of angels, according to what I’ve read”
“But this isn’t what fae look like now.” My ears, and the ears of all the fae I know, do have a slight angle to them, but nothing close to the pointed ears depicted in the book.
“The legend is that the angelic-looking fae were feared by the people of Terre Ferique. This caused the fae to become lonely, and the feeling of not being accepted caused a deep sadness. So the fae made a deal with the gods.” Ezra shifts to sit in the chair beside me.
“You see, apparently fae didn’t used to be only limited to one power when their magic manifested itself.
But the fae were willing to sacrifice in order to be one with the people, to be seen as the same community.
So they asked the gods to take their wings, to make them look more human, and as a payment, they would reduce their arsenal of powers to just one. ”
“That’s wild,” Nadya says. “I don’t know if I could do that.”
“Really?” I tilt my head. “I mean, I guess if it were for something like love, I could understand.”
Nadya gasps. “Oh, yes. I can just imagine it. A lovely fae, willing to sacrifice her wings and her ear tips and her… glitter, I guess… so she would be accepted by the man she loves.”
I let out a small giggle. “There’s no doubting what kind of books you’ve been reading.”
She gives me a smile and a shrug before continuing her search. Ezra lets out a small groan as he stands, returning to the bookcase he’d abandoned before I called him over.
I flip through the pages, hoping the book might mention fae hiding their magic and getting it back, but there’s naught to be found.
Ezra finds a book mentioning a great execution of witches, but nothing helpful comes out of those pages, either.
Moving on to a new section, I trail my fingers across the spine of a thick volume bound in faded, green velvet.
Something about the texture draws me to it.
I slide it free and take in the illustrated cover of a man in armor, standing in the foreground with a sword pointed in the air, with a sail-finned dragon roaring in the background.
I read the title out loud. “The Slayer of Hedera and the Final Age of Flame.” I glance over my shoulder.
Ezra nods. “It’s on our curriculum to go over, yes.
The tale of a warrior from centuries ago who became obsessed with conquering dragons.
What had started as a mission to track down and conquer one rogue dragon turned into a compulsion to slay dragons for their scales when he learned their worth.
Strong as steel and resistant to flame, dragon scales quickly became more valuable than gold.
Some said they held ancient magic. They were discovered to have medicinal qualities, used in potions to stave off incurable fevers.
Some believed they could strengthen the blood, prolong vitality.
Dull pain. And then, of course, were the rumors that they had the power to make one immortal. ”
A shiver runs through me, and I rub my arms.
Ezra continues, his voice lower now. “Once word of the worth of dragon scales began to spread, the king at the time—King Haldric—saw a different future for Hedera. Prosperity became his obsession. And he took the dragon slayer under his wing to build his fortune.”
I swallow. “Torbin once brought me to a cave entrance in Hedera,” I murmur, my fingers drifting along the edge of the page.
“We were just children. He said it was an old slayer’s den—where a dragon slayer used to sleep between hunts.
” The memory rises slowly, like mist from a forgotten glade.
“I remember how excited he was. He wanted to go inside, kept saying we might find old bones or buried treasure. But the moment I saw that dark mouth yawning open in the rocks, I froze. I was convinced there were monsters inside. I told him I wasn’t going any farther. ”
Nadya shivers. “I would have said the same.”
My smile is faint but sharp at the edges.
“He teased me. Called me ‘a coward.’ Said he thought I was brave—stronger than the other girls. That I disappointed him.” I shake my head.
“It stung more than it should have. So I took his horse and rode back to the castle without him. Left him standing there alone.”
Ezra’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt. Nadya looks like she’s holding back a smile.
“He walked all the way back,” I continue softly.
“Found me sulking in the castle later, pretending not to care. But he had flowers. Wild ones, barely tied together. And a small box of sugared dates he must’ve stolen from the kitchen.
” I glance between them, a strange ache spreading beneath my ribs.
“He said I was his best friend. That he was sorry for making me feel small. And I believed him.”
For a long moment, no one speaks. The memory hangs between us, whole and bittersweet.
“It’s strange,” I add, barely above a whisper. “Even back then, he could be cruel. But he never wanted to lose me. Not really. If he thought he had, he’d do anything to win me back.”
Nadya reaches out, her fingers brushing mine. “That doesn’t mean you owe him anything.”
“I know,” I say. And I do. “I knew it even then. That’s why I took the horse.”
Ezra lets out a thoughtful hum beside me. “That cave… Was it tucked into the cliffs south of Hedera’s southern pass?”
I glance at him. “I think so. Why?”
His brow furrows. “There’s a vault hidden in the rock face there.
It’s said to house a portion of Hedera’s dragon scale reserves.
It would’ve been sealed—heavily warded—but Torbin always did know all the secret passageways.
Perhaps he meant to show you the wealth.
Not bones or treasure. Gold and scales.”
Instead, he inadvertently showed me a side of himself he probably hadn’t meant to.
I close the book. “Well, I guess we can check that lesson off our list.”
“Do not fret,” Ezra replies, inspecting a scroll from the middle of the table. “There’s no shortage of lessons.”
“Yay,” Nadya says, devoid of enthusiasm as she strolls away from the table.
I take the dragon slayer book back to its respective shelf before perusing more titles.
Nadya meanders by a far shelf, humming as she glances at the spines. Suddenly, a large tome falls from a shelf she just passed, landing with a thunk on the floor behind her.
“Oh!” She remarks, twirling to gape at the book. She holds a hand to her heart and looks at me. “Did you do that?”
I shake my head. “No.”
She bends and picks up the fallen book. “It practically jumped off the shelf.”
When Ezra and I come over to her, I study the cover bound in deep-navy leather with an inlaid sigil gleaming on the front: a silver circle atop a four-pointed star.
“There’s no title,” I say. “What is it?”
“No idea.” She flips the book open. “The text is… strange. I don’t recognize the language.”
“May I?” Ezra asks, approaching her side.
She hands him the book, but he shakes his head after a few moments. “It’s not in any lexicon I know. And I’ve studied thirty-seven.”
Nadya exhales, clearly disappointed. “Maybe it’s nothing. Look at these swirls. There’s no way that’s a language.”
Ezra blinks, eyes darting between her and the book. “‘Swirls’?”
She lowers her brows. “Yeah. Look. Right there.” She points to something on the page.
“I see shapes,” he says. “Like squares and triangles.”
I stand, abandoning the dragon slayer book. “Let me see.”
When I approach them, Ezra holds the book out so I can study the page. Except I don’t see swirls or shapes. “This book must be enchanted. I see a series of straight lines and crosses.”
Nadya’s eyes widen.
Ezra flips a page. “Peculiar.”
“I suppose this book isn’t meant to be read by just anyone.” Nadya runs a hand over the print, shaking her head. “Which means there are secrets in here somebody worked hard to hide.”
Then the clock above the library door chimes the hour, and we all stiffen.
“Time’s up,” Ezra says. “Quickly, put everything back where we found it.”
Nadya takes the book from Ezra, her hand smoothing over the sigil on the cover once more before returning the book to its shelf.
I draw the shutters closed, and we hurry back down the secret hall.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing off the passageway to the library with a quiet finality.
We step into the corridor, shadows curling along the stone floor, the sconces casting a dull, golden light.
Nadya exhales, rubbing her arms against the chill.
“Well,” she mutters, tucking a curl behind her ear, “we didn’t get what we came for, but at least no one’s chased us down.”
“Princess Celeste?” The voice cuts through the silence like a blade.
I freeze.
We all turn at once to see Lord Marcos Trevose standing a few paces down the corridor, gawking at us with wide eyes. His hand, gloved in soft, brown leather, hovers near the hilt of the ornamental dagger belted at his waist—not a soldier’s gesture, but one of uncertainty.
He strides forward studying the three of us. “You were—” He looks past us, to the faint seam in the wall that betrays the secret passage. “Were you in the library without permission?”
Ezra’s mouth tightens. Nadya’s eyes flick to mine. I can feel the tension between the three of us, can feel it in my chest, tightening with each beat.
Podrosa does not forgive rule-breakers. Not easily.
“Marcos.” I keep my voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
I reach out to take his hands. They’re cool and slightly stiff with tension. He glances down at the connection, blinking slowly.
“I’ve always valued your friendship,” I tell him.
His lips press into a line, unreadable. Behind me, Nadya shifts her weight. I can sense Ezra readying himself to speak, but I squeeze Marcos’s hands and lean in just a little closer.
“We meant no harm. We only wished to read for an hour or two.” I hold my empty hands up for him to see. “Nothing was taken. Nothing damaged.”
He glances toward the sealed passage again, clearly torn. There’s a flicker of hesitance in his eyes, but it conflicts with what I can only assume is a sense of duty. Podrosan loyalty. But if he reports this, it could bring punishment for us.
He holds my gaze for a second longer, and then he gives me the faintest nod. “You should steer clear of this corridor.” He turns and walks away without another word.
When he rounds the corner, disappearing from view, Nadya lets out a slow breath. “Gods, I thought he was going to haul us straight to the stocks.”
Ezra’s voice is dry. “We’re fortunate he values your friendship.”
“Come on.” I glance over my shoulder. “Before someone else catches us.”
“You could have told him the queen gave us permission,” Nadya says, quickening her steps to keep up with me.
“No. I wouldn’t do that. She took a risk giving us access, and I wouldn’t betray her trust just to clear our names.”
I press a hand to my chest, feeling my pulse still racing beneath my ribs. We’re leaving tomorrow. We spent two hours in the most tightly guarded library in Terre Ferique, and still, we walk away emptyhanded.