Chapter Six
KHALIDA
Khalida walked into the great library. Her wrist tingled, but she refused to pay attention to it as she stalked toward the center.
It had been only a few hours since she had left Sypha.
She’d spent far too long staring at the scroll and scurrying through House Azaes’s archives only to find absolutely nothing about Ninhursag.
Asking for help was not something she did lightly, but there was no other choice—not when it wasn’t just about her.
The natural light from the dome ceiling filtered into the circular room.
The silver beams of the moonlight danced around the room, adding an ethereal quality to the atmosphere.
Around her were three levels of books, mostly Atlantean but with a smattering of human authors.
Wooden and metal ladders leaned against the shelves, allowing anyone to have access to the tomes.
A quiet peace instantly settled over her as soon as she stepped into the room.
She inhaled as the scent of old books and dreams floated around her.
As a child, it was one of her favorite refuges, and it still held a part of her.
More books existed in the room than even an Atlantean could read in their extended lifespan.
There was still only so much that could be read in three and half thousand years.
A handful of Atlanteans worked quietly at the oak tables scattered throughout the library.
Most of them didn’t interest her, but it didn’t take long to find him.
He sat alone at a wooden table, next to where the oldest volumes in the library were shelved.
Half hidden by a ladder, the Atlantean’s shoulders were hunched over, engrossed in a book, long fingers turning the pages studiously.
He wore a plain dark blue shirt and matching loose pants.
Within the room, he appeared inconspicuous, like any other scholar studying in the library.
His messy golden-brown hair, reaching just above his shoulders, was longer than she’d ever seen him wear it before.
He looked as if he belonged. And in the past, he had, before he’d thrown it all away.
Above her, the silver glint of a blaster skirted the edge of her vision. She nodded in acknowledgment to her guards as they quietly watched their prey. The orders she’d given them: disarm first and ask questions later.
“And we are here because?” Talik asked as she reached him. He stood in the center of the room, a look of disdain on his handsome face as he slowly turned to regard her.
Khalida allowed herself to glance at him—the first time since she’d entered the library.
She’d deliberately taken her time. She refused to give him that much power over her actions.
Talik had traded the matte black uniform for black trousers, a black T-shirt, and an expensive-looking tailored jacket.
His dark eyes were lined with kohl, making his gaze appear more smoldering than it naturally was.
Her mouth was suddenly dry. Khalida turned her attention to the reason why she’d asked for the meeting to occur in the library.
It gave her time to gather her thoughts.
“We both know someone who may be able to decipher this.”
“We—no.” Talik shook his head, his gaze darkening as he registered who she was talking about. “No,” he repeated a little more forcibly.
“We don’t have a choice,” Khalida said. She really wished there were other options, but they were running out of time.
They needed to use every advantage and everyone at their disposal.
Especially anyone who had the potential to give them an insight into stopping the wayfarers and the Anki. “He can help us.”
Talik clenched his jaw, a small tick forming, but he didn’t disagree. Instead, he turned around and stalked toward the librarian, his footsteps silent on the plush gray carpet. Khalida strode toward the lone figure when the light began to flash.
The trigger for all non-essential personnel to leave the library.
Atlanteans cast her furtive glances and slowly packed up as the librarian coughed, hurrying them along with a glare worthy of one of the immortals.
Thankful that Talik had the foresight to empty the room, she reached the table just as her target was about to move.
“Chaucer.”
His dark azure eyes widened as he looked her over before he glanced at Talik.
He sat back down, closing the book before crossing his arms across his chest. The surprise only lasted a second before being replaced with a look of boredom.
As she’d expected. He was Dante’s younger cousin, and only the second male Delacroix to outlive infancy.
Chaucer was just as much of an aristocrat as she, and their kind were nothing but exceptional at hiding behind facades.
However, for someone who was supposed to abhor violence and blood, Chaucer had proven to be entirely resilient when working with the enemy.
Khalida glanced up. The guards remained on overwatch.
“Khalida, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Chaucer asked, his tone borderline insubordinate.
As if he did not realize the precarious position he was in.
He leaned down and flicked the hem of his pants, displaying a thin black band on his right ankle. “Do I have you to thank for the new accessory?”
“Think of it as a thank-you gift,” Khalida said as she clenched her fist. The leather of the sword’s hilt bit into her skin.
Every part of her was screaming at herself.
She didn’t negotiate with traitors. Especially those who betrayed them for money and power.
Chaucer had been willing to use Rieka as bait and Dante as collateral damage to get what he wanted—the accolades of finding Atlantis.
But in the end, Chaucer couldn’t go through it.
Instead, he’d helped Rieka. Khalida wasn’t entirely sure it had been altruistic or that Chaucer wasn’t still working for Ninhursag.
“Hello, traitor,” Talik added as he stood next to Khalida.
The warmth from Talik’s body enveloped her. He was standing so close she could brush her arm against him if she wanted to.
Chaucer smiled coolly but didn’t object to the term. “Hello, Talik.”
“Enjoying house arrest?”
“If you ignore the guard as a shadow, it has been awfully pleasant. A chance to catch up on my reading,” Chaucer responded, as if he was talking about the weather.
There was still a sallow tint to his skin, but he was looking far better than he had seventy-two hours ago.
He tapped his wrist innocently, a hint that he knew they were keeping permanent tabs on him.
There was no mark on his skin, but it was where Khalida had ordered the doctor to insert the tracker.
Talik tsk-tsked. “The dungeon is always an option. According to my memory, it is positively freezing at this time of year.”
Chaucer lips twitched. “I will take your word for it.”
“Are you both done?” Khalida interrupted, glaring at both of them before she turned to Chaucer. “When did you become a jerk?”
Khalida struggled to reconcile the timid, bookish Chaucer prone to fainting at the sight of blood with the Atlantean before her.
“When he decided to become a traitor?” Talik interrupted. “Seems like he has shed his old skin and has finally revealed his true self.”
Chaucer sighed as he clenched his fist under the table. “Would you prefer me to act like the Atlantean you expected? Would that get me out of house arrest?”
Talik laughed. The sound swirled around her, comforting her.
Khalida rolled her shoulders back, brushing up against Talik as she stared down Chaucer. “We need your help.”
Chaucer looked taken aback, his eyes widening for a second before he quickly recovered and an emotionless mask fell into place.
It had been too brief and raw to not be an honest reaction.
Chaucer may be a Delacroix, but he had not inherited the same coldness or ruthlessness that seemed to be second nature to Dante.
Some sort of decency, something buried deep within Chaucer, had made him stop and prevented him from betraying Rieka.
Khalida didn’t think if the roles of Dante and Chaucer had been reversed, that Dante would have afforded Rieka the same curtesy.
“What do I get out of it?”
Talik shifted, the mood in the library instantly changing to a darker tone. “You get to stay alive. Rieka may have spared your life, but I would hate for you to have an unfortunate accident.”
“Always the thug, even in your designer suit.” Chaucer tilted his head, his gaze inscrutable. “I will need access to the archives.”
“We haven’t told you what we want,” Talik replied.
Warmth spread through Khalida at the hint of the word “we.” It wasn’t something she took pride in, harshly reminding herself that they were not friends.
Chaucer smirked. “You are only talking to me because Idris is unable to give you the information. And while Rieka has declined to agree to my execution, my intrinsic value is having more information about the Anki and the wayfarers than the rest of you.”
Chaucer was smarter than she previously had given him credit for.
She slowly removed the scroll, careful to keep it out of Chaucer’s reach, but close enough that he would notice the transforming glyphs. Holding the scroll up in the moonlight, it appeared more fragile than in the infirmary. Over the last couple of hours, the edges of the scroll had darkened.
Chaucer looked transfixed.
Khalida dangled the scroll in front of him, determined to get an answer. “How do we find the Anki?”