Chapter 46
SAPHIRA
Ihad to move fast. I wasn’t sure how long I had before the tethers on Kaeleron’s temper snapped and he recklessly came after me to take me back.
My heart pounded a rapid rhythm as I hurried through the hallways of the castle, heading at speed for Sylvan’s office, the skirts of my dress in danger of tripping me.
Maybe I should have stayed in my wolf form rather than swiftly dressing again, but I hadn’t wanted to rouse suspicion if someone saw me, and running around the castle as a wolf carrying a dress, satchel and dagger in its mouth might have done that.
I grabbed my skirts with my free hand, lifting them, keeping hold of the satchel over my shoulder with the other.
The halls were quiet and I sensed no movement around me, not even beyond the door ahead of me.
I grabbed the door handle and twisted it.
Locked. I tried again with the same result.
Guess it was time to practice what Kaeleron had taught me.
I focused on the lock just below the handle, keeping my hand there, using it to create a bridge between me and the lock that I could use.
I funnelled my magic into that lock as I closed my eyes, feeling the shape of it with threads of solar power that tried to slip my tired grasp.
It took longer than expected to move all the pins into place, but a proud smile curled my lips when the lock finally clicked and the handle gave beneath my grip.
Pushing the door open, I quickly stepped into the room and closed it behind me, not bothering to lock it.
I would only have to unlock it when I escaped.
My footsteps seemed so loud on the floor as I crossed it to the large desk that occupied the centre of the room and set my satchel down on it.
I scanned the bookshelves that lined the walls, the only space that wasn’t filled with tomes and scrolls being the arched windows behind the desk that allowed light to flow into the room.
The night was bright enough that I didn’t need to use magic to light my way so I could see. My heightened vision and the perpetual light of this court did that for me. I moved from one bookshelf to the next, fingers dancing over the spines, pulling each one out to check the date on the first page.
I found seven books that were around the right time. I put them on the desk, creating a stack that I would sift through to see if they mentioned Belkarthen or the Shadow Court. I went looking for more, and found two on a shelf behind Sylvan’s desk.
Nine was a good start.
I flicked through the first book and then the second, finding nothing.
The third mentioned court movements around the time, and something about the queen, so I put it to one side for reading later and moved onto the fourth.
This one was a bust too. My ancient fae was still lacking, but I had learned the most important words, ones that would reveal if I was looking in the right place.
The fifth mentioned court advisors, Sylas, Shadow Court and what I thought was the word for retaliation. That one I moved to the top of the list of books I would hand to Kael the moment I was back with him.
The sixth and seventh book didn’t seem to have much to offer me, so I moved to the two journals I had taken from the shelves behind Sylvan’s desk. These ones were written in another’s hand—a familiar hand.
Sylas’s.
They were dated just over a century ago, filling in one of the gaps that I had questioned Sylvan about. He had said his cousin hadn’t written anything around then. He was a liar.
I scanned the pages, one after another, able to make out only ten percent of the words when I was rushing, but it was enough.
It mentioned heirs, and hiding them, and a danger to them.
Something about him being worried for heirs.
I turned the page, cold chills rushing down my limbs. It also mentioned the Shadow Court.
Had he feared the Shadow Court would come for his heirs again? That the cycle of revenge wouldn’t end without more bloodshed? Is that why he had kept them secret?
Kaeleron had attacked the Summer Court several times before Sylas had made heirs in secret.
I tried to read another line, just about able to make the whole of it out.
The Wrathful suits him as a name.
He had thought Kaeleron would keep coming for him and his children.
What he hadn’t realised was that the threat to us and his life had come from within his own court.
My gut said Sylvan was the one who had killed him.
It matched up with what I knew of the steward and his ambitions now.
I didn’t bother to read the other journal. I needed to get them all to Kaeleron. He would be able to read them faster than I could.
I went to push them all into the satchel and one fell, hitting the floor face down with the pages open. I bent and picked it up, twisting it towards me.
And froze as something on the page caught my eye.
I read both pages and flipped to the next.
And then I read them again, needing to be sure, my heart pounding in my ears.
And again.
And each time it told me the same thing.
The name of the one responsible for the attack on Belkarthen.
“What are you doing in here?”
My whole body locked up tight as that voice sounded behind me, one that was distinctly masculine and bone-chillingly familiar, and dread pooled low in my stomach as I swallowed hard, my hands shaking against the book I quickly closed and clutched to my chest as I turned to face him.
Turned to face the male who had taken so much from Kaeleron and Jenavyr.
Sylvan.
His sharp blue gaze lowered to the book I had tucked against my chest, and I was sure he could hear my racing heart as the corners of his lips turned downwards.
“I—You scared me.” I forced a shaky smile. “I was looking for you.”
He looked at the door he held, at the lock as his brows lowered, and then at me, his eyes narrowing on me as his head tilted slightly. “It is late to be looking for me here, do you not think?”
My gaze shot to the windows behind me and then leaped back to him. “A little. Maybe. I couldn’t sleep and I was sure I had seen you down here before… working late. I had wanted to speak with you about whether I could challenge Lorien in return. Like he challenged me.”
Those sharp, searching eyes narrowed further, gaining a calculating edge. “You could. An heir has the right to challenge another heir any time they see fit… but it would be most unusual for the heir presumptive to challenge someone lower down the ranks.”
“I thought Lorien challenged the other heirs, even when he was heir presumptive.” I glanced at the corridor behind him, not sure I could get past him without him capturing me, and not sure whether I would need to run if I could just convince him I really had been here to see him.
“No. He only challenged the heir presumptive so he could take their place. Usually, he dispatches them quite easily. It was most interesting to see him fail with you.” He angled his head the other way. “What are you reading?”
I shrugged as I looked down at the journal. “Just another book I took from the library. I was reading it while I waited. I still can’t read half of what it says though. Just pieces of it thanks to Meiryn. I’m an awful student. Meiryn constantly lectures me. Maybe ancient fae isn’t for me.”
For a moment, a beautiful moment, his shoulders relaxed and his expression lost its dark, honed edge, but then I made the mistake of moving.
Revealing the satchel on the desk, and the books that spilled from it.
His eyes narrowed on me again, his tone sharper than a blade. “What are you really doing in my office?”
He lunged for me, moving in a blur of speed that I had trouble tracking, and no hope of evading. His fingers closed around my upper arm, nails biting into my skin to bruise and mark it as he yanked me away from the desk, his gaze scanning the books on it and then me.
“These are my journals.” He turned on me, towering over me, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. “I knew I was right and you have been lying the whole time you have been in my court.”
His court.
If I had ever wondered about his motives, I didn’t have to wonder any longer.
Sylvan wanted this court as his own—his to rule as king.
No wonder he wanted us to all kill each other.
His nails transformed to short golden claws, digging into my skin and drawing blood as they did so, and I flinched and gritted my teeth against the pain as the coppery tang of it filled the heavy air.
“I knew all along you were up to something. The dagger made me suspicious.” He lowered his eyes to my waist and reached for the belt that circled it, wrenching at the leather and easily breaking it.
He held it aloft before him, his eyes narrowing on it.
On the damned pommel. I had been an idiot to bring it with me.
“But what made me realise you were a traitor… a filthy spy… was when you attacked the Wrathful King in the fae town, conveniently forcing me and the guards away from him. One might say you were protecting him.”
I summoned solar magic to my fingertips and shoved at his chest, but the power fizzled out before I even made contact with him.
What?
I tried to summon it again, my heart sinking as Sylvan laughed at me.
And then I felt it.
A ward.
A fucking ward.
That connection between me and the magic felt muted, fuzzy, as if someone had placed it behind a sheer veil. I could see it; I just couldn’t reach it.
Instead of shoving Sylvan back with magic, I shoved him back with all my strength instead, managing to break his hold on me. I scrambled behind a chair, pushing it towards him, wielding it like a shield as he grinned at me and slowly drew my own dagger.
He tossed the teal and gold scabbard on his desk and advanced on me.