43. Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Two
Isoria
Archer had scarcely been in his quarters the past two days, and other than the return of Briar’s pestering visits regarding wedding plans, I hadn’t seen anyone but servants.
Orchid had told me that every available phoenix hunter was consumed with the search for the recently escaped male, that King Wystan was furious the prisoner hadn’t been executed immediately upon his capture.
“Thank you for keeping our secret,” I’d murmured, meeting Orchid’s gaze in the mirror as she’d combed through my hair.
She’d paused, fluffing her own pink hair, her eyes distant.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about. I always thought of your kind as…
cruel. That you had an unnatural relationship with death and fire and wanted to see our kingdom burn.
But now I’m realizing, it’s all hearsay.
If I met a phoenix shifter before you, I didn’t know.
I trusted the gossip and the lies King Wystan spread.
You and your brother are nothing like what I was taught. I’m…I’m so sorry.”
I dipped my head, blinking at the tears flooding my vision. “It’s not your fault, Orchid. You didn’t know any better, but now you do, and you’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy and kind. You don’t know what that means to me.”
When I turned on my seat, her eyes widened in surprise, but when I stood and opened my arms, she accepted my hug. She smelled of jasmine, the same flowers she’d once carefully weaved into my hair. “You are a true friend.”
Orchid pulled back, blinking rapidly and wiping at her own eyes. “It’s an honor to be considered a friend, Your Highness.”
When Briar stopped wasting my time each morning, I hastened to the castle library.
I didn’t have much time left, and I had to find a cure.
Now that I was half-confident I could get Archer to accompany me back home again, I abandoned my efforts toward finding a way to break our bond and focused only on whatever afflicted the phoenixes.
On the second afternoon, I made my way to the back of the fifth level, where a shadowy alcove holding a heavily barred door was half-concealed by shelves that seemed purposefully arranged to hide it.
I’d immediately hunted down the first librarian I could find in the echoey space.
“Could you assist me with opening a door on the fifth level?” I asked the female, keeping my tone steady and confident, hoping I sounded like a future princess whose wishes I expected to be honored.
She had freckles like a young doe, her wide, brown eyes deep and curious.
When she hesitated, swiping the wild curls out of her face, she glanced around her office.
I’d found her on the third level, in one of countless offices full of desks and stacked books and scrolls.
Some were vacant, others full of more librarians occupied with work.
She’d been the first to glance up with a friendly smile, but now she looked afraid.
“That is a space reserved for forbidden books,” she explained in a low voice. “King Wystan selected various works about the Emberglade family and their history—ones that were maybe too favorable—along with some about trolls that he decided weren’t to be for public consumption.”
I frowned. “But I am Prince Archer’s betrothed. Surely as a future princess, I need to know about our history.”
She smiled sadly. “I’m afraid one can only enter that room with King Wystan’s express permission.”
Frustrated, I left her office. What if that was my problem?
What if the reason I hadn’t found anything useful about losing magic wasn’t because this had never happened before, but because any past incidents had been essentially banned from public knowledge?
If the Emberglade family had been involved in any way…
Or maybe this has never happened before.
I wiped at the tears forming in my eyes. None of the gods we’d prayed to had answered. Solea's temple was abandoned, and who knew what state the temples belonging to other gods were in.
Maybe there was nothing useful in the hidden alcove, but I was tired of finding nothing. I had to follow every path, use every available resource I had. I couldn’t give up so easily. Every time I blinked, Mama’s wan face appeared in my mind’s eye or Brook’s sad smile. I couldn’t lose my loved ones.
And what if I was next to lose my magic? If I started to grow ill and exhausted like them, it could slow down my efforts even more.
I had to do something.
Returning to that alcove, I sucked in a breath, scanning the space around me to ensure I was alone.
I drew on that fire inside me, letting the strength of my magic fill my chest. It was delicious and glorious, something I’d been forced to stuff down far too much of late.
Tiny flames licked at my palm. Hot enough to melt a doorknob clean off.
It was risky, but perhaps I could commission Orchid to help find and replace the knob before anyone discovered what I’d done or guessed it was me.
Stomach knotting, I lifted my palm, half-mesmerized by my own dancing flames, white-hot and searing, as I approached the door.
“I knew it.”
I extinguished my flames, whirling toward the all-too-familiar voice.
It was too late. There was no hiding what I’d done this time, no torch nearby for an excuse. No way I could twist the truth.
Dell Rosebrough, standing at the edge of the shadowy alcove with a sneer on his face.
“Didn’t know I could manipulate air and conceal myself, did you, little fire whore?
” He stalked closer, the gleam in his eyes murderous.
“It’s a rare magic, one that has made me quite useful to King Wystan as an advisor. ”
The blood left my face, my limbs going weak with terror.
“Are you threatening me? I’m Prince Archer’s—”
“I don’t give a flying flame in Mortius’ afterlife if you’re the goddess Solea herself,” Dell cut in. the sound of his dagger scraping free of its sheath rang through the air, punctuating his statement.
My mind was frantic, my thoughts tumbling over one another like a cornered animal trying to claw its way free.
I could scarcely remember a single piece of the training that Archer and his friends had been drilling into me the past several weeks.
Parry. Slice. It was all a blur. It was pathetic, desperate, but I leaned into Archer’s and my bond, his name the only clear thought in my head. Archer. Archer. Archer.
If only he was near enough to hear my silent screams for help.
The floorboards creaked and Dell moved nearer.
“If you’re so valuable,” I said, voice tremulous as I tried to edge my way around Dell and toward the alcove’s exit, “then surely you should be on Archer’s phoenix-hunting team. You should be looking for the escaped fire demon, not—”
Dell lunged, not letting my words distract him. With a choked gasp, I ducked and rolled, but he spun. The dagger flashed in the shadows, slicing across my cheek.
I kept going, charging past the shelves and out into the open fifth floor.
There was no one around, and I was as afraid of calling for help as I was of being alone with Dell.
Once he told another living soul, I’d be doomed.
Not even Archer could charm and lie his way out of this one, and I wasn’t convinced the king would spare me to save his son.
But maybe, if I could get away from Dell and warn Archer before the awful male went to the king, Archer and I could come up with a plan. We could run. We could find a way to survive.
I considered shifting into phoenix form, but I wasn’t sure I could force my way out a window to exit the castle. And if there was a chance Archer could stop Dell and bury our secret again, I didn’t want to throw it away.
My boots thudded against the floor as I passed rows of bookshelves and unoccupied tables and chairs, my brain scrambling to remember details about the secret tunnels that led to Archer’s quarters.
Hadn’t Lily mentioned something about a tunnel leading to the library?
If I was fast enough, maybe I could find the entrance and slip away before Dell realized where I’d gone.
I tossed a glance over my shoulder, but there was no way to tell if Dell was in close pursuit when he could conceal himself and my own panting breaths masked other sounds.
What had Lily said about finding the entrance to the tunnels in the library? Something about the fourth or fifth level and a stone to push in the wall behind a picture or statue of the late queen—
Something slammed into my left shoulder so hard it sent me sprawling on hands and knees, sliding across the floor.
Pain bit deep and shuddered all the way down my arm.
I tried to roll my weight off the wounded arm and found the floor beneath me slick with my own blood.
The heat of it was already trickling down my arm and adding to the puddle.
Dell’s face flashed into view above me, his gloating smile showing all his teeth. He stomped on my bad arm, making my vision go white. I was frozen, in so much agony I couldn’t scream.
This is it. The fulfilment of my prophecy. It was wild to have the epiphany now, as my lungs still burned from my failed attempt at fleeing and my pulse hammered against my temples. I’ll die, and that will be what destroys Archer. That’s how I’m his ruin.
But even in my agony, I wasn’t helpless. My magic unfurled, eager to help. I wasn’t strong enough anymore to shift, not with my injury and blood loss, but my fire was ready. As Dell swung his blade, I focused all my energy into summoning flame and hurling it at him.
He screamed, his aim shoved downward, and his blade missed my neck. It punched into my stomach, driving deep. My own shout of agony melted into his, and more flames leapt up in response, a mass that consumed the male’s body.
Dell wrenched backward, the blade going with him. Blood poured from my wound, the pain lancing through me so hot and consuming I could scarcely breathe or move.