Chapter 51 Constellations and Conditions
CONSTELLATIONS AND CONDITIONS
The secret archive is warm and intimate. The scent of leather, tea, and sandalwood grows stronger as the shelves close behind us.
“If there was ever an emergency, this is where you’d come,” Holden says, his hand still wrapped around mine.
“There are three additional entry points.” He nods to a door across from us.
“That leads to the bathing chamber. And that—” He motions to a door halfway up the wall that connects to a spiral staircase.
“If you’re on the second floor, my room is the entrance.
And on the third floor…” He points to a higher door that doesn’t have stairs or even a ladder.
“The stairs are invisible but fortified.” His hand slips from mine.
My skin tingles at the loss.
I should be asking how I’m supposed to walk down invisible stairs, but I’m staring at the high domed ceiling painted with constellations that subtly shift and move, like watching the night sky.
The walls are lined with rich mahogany shelves, a less rigid and organized landscape of knowledge than those upstairs in his office or the library.
A desk is across from us. And a massive round table dominates one end of the room, its polished surface glowing warmly, surrounded by chairs.
Two royal-blue couches face each other at the other end, but it’s the small reading nooks carved between the shelves, laden with cushions, that have me daydreaming of being here for entire weekends.
Lights stream from orbs that float near the ceiling, casting a gentle golden glow. The carpet beneath my feet is thick, made of blues, greens, and hints of yellow, warm against the stone floor.
“A secret library within a secret library, within a secret library.” A grin tugs at my lips as I admire the leather spines.
“I’m waiting for you to open another door and reveal yet another library.
” He doesn’t respond, watching as I trace the silky smoothness of the shelves with my fingertips.
“On Earth, we have nesting dolls—little painted boxes that stack inside each other, revealing a smaller one each time. But yours goes in reverse order. Defying more of the things I thought I knew and understood.”
Holden steps in front of me slowly, lithely. “The sentiment has been shared since you arrived.”
“Technically, I’m a theory. A maybe. A perhaps.”
His gaze zigzags across my face, not denying it. My chest aches at the silent implication, reminding me to pull my shields higher.
“There’s one rule for this space,” he says.
I wait for the condition, but he doesn’t say anything. “That I can’t tell anyone about the archive or what I learn here?” I quip. “We already went over that.” I raise my hand in a mocking gesture.
He shakes his head. “That was the oath required by the archives. This is my rule.”
I blink several times, trying to guess the stipulation. “What’s the rule?”
Holden steps closer, closer than he’s been since Portelina. His dark eyes hold an intensity that makes my heart spin. “In this space,” he says, his voice dropping to a register that has my blood heating. “I’m the only one who touches you.”
His words lick across my skin like a flame—heavy and claiming and impossible to unhear.
Not a question. Not a threat. A rule.
My pulse thunders as heat floods my cheeks despite every instinct screaming at me to stay composed.
The silence stretches, fragile but electric.
I don’t know whether to nod, argue, or reach for him, and the uncertainty feels dangerous in a way I can’t name.
Touches me how?
My thoughts drift back to that night in Portelina, remembering the way Holden had looked at me with reverence and lust as he told me to spread my legs wider. As he removed his cock and admitted that I made him ache as he pleasured himself.
Holden’s gaze drops to my mouth, then away for a moment—like he’s reminding himself why this is a bad idea.
He reaches for the codex folded against my chest, his knuckles barely brushing my collarbone. “Why do you keep re-reading this book?” He opens the cover, skimming over a passage.
My heart is still beating too fast, my nipples hard, and my breath uneven as his words replay in my head. I’m the only one who touches you.
I swallow thickly. “How do you know I’ve finished reading it?”
Those dark eyes slip over me again, the hint of a smile curving his lips.
“I’ve been assigning you impossible assignments for nearly two months.
I know exactly how fast you can read. Otherwise, your essays would be padded with sweeping generalizations, weak source integration, and an overuse of filler language. ”
Annoyance severs my lust. “Do you know how much work I put into those impossible essays that you never grade or return?”
His smile grows as though amused by my question. “Why have you been re-reading this codex? What has you so fascinated?”
I glare at him openly. “You constantly deflect.”
Again, he doesn’t respond.
It’s infuriating.
“I don’t think an Elemental wrote the codex,” I admit. “Or if they did, they weren’t raised here. The information and descriptions are raw. Unpolished. Unedited. It’s their thoughts poured over pages, constantly changing and discovering.”
“And you find that relatable?”
“I find it honest,” I confess. “The author mentions things I can’t find in other books.
Stories, tales, legends. They sketched plants and runes, even show different Vestra markings, and maps.
” I look at the page he’s opened to, and the handwriting that gets messier when the author was excited and rigid when they were uncertain. “They wanted to understand.”
He stares at me—a look that makes me feel too exposed.
I clear my throat. “If your father was an archivist, and you now have access to those archives, does that mean your job when not Professor Whitlock is an archivist? A curator?”
His gaze hardens as he shakes his head. “I authenticate and catalog runes.”
“What does that entail?”
“My job is to verify a rune’s origins, determine a rune’s power signature, and assess whether it’s been sanctioned for use, and report any that violate Rune Law.
” He runs his fingers along the spine of a dark book.
“The Council restricts which runes can be used. I’m tasked with identifying unauthorized runes and documenting ancient ones they want preserved but not accessible.
” He grins, though something dark flashes in his eyes.
“Then my memory is wiped so I can’t remember them. ”
My heart flatlines. “They wipe your memory.”
The right side of his lips kicks up. “They think they do.” He strolls toward his desk with my codex still in his hand. “But regardless, I’m not permitted to cast runes.”
My throat tightens—not fear, not panic, but a familiar, aching anger. The kind that comes from watching power dress cruelty up as procedure. “But you cast runes all the time.”
He arches a brow. “Only on lands we own. Lands we control and can’t be monitored.”
The fury that rises in me is immediate and intense.
They try to reach inside his mind and take pieces of him. The fact that they fail doesn’t make it less invasive, less controlling. And he has to pretend they succeed—has to hide what he knows, what he can do.
I want to say something—to acknowledge how wrong it is—but the words stick in my throat. What could I possibly say that he doesn’t already know?
Holden crosses to his desk, placing the codex on a pile of papers. “I’ve found a few of the prophecies in other versions—ones we’ve seen before.”
My gaze jumps to his. “Are they different?”
Holden shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”
I release a weighted sigh. “Of course not.” I turn the book slightly, reading a part of the prophecy so I can compare it to the version Holden has photocopied, a dozen notes scribbled in the margins. “Do you want my help finding more prophecies to compare, or what can I do?”
The archway opens, and Lochlan and Kai stride inside, their attention cutting to me. Lochlan looks surprised, but it’s fleeting, buried behind a slight scowl, but he doesn’t make a cutting remark about me being here.
“Anything?” Holden asks.
Kai shakes his head, then blows out a long breath. “Lyra’s on her way back. Bri’s hearing is set for the day after tomorrow.”
Lochlan’s gaze cuts to me. We had received word two days ago, but they had hoped to delay it further.
Holden moves to a shelf near one of the nooks and takes a thin volume bound in dark green leather.
He opens to a page marked with a thin silk ribbon as he walks back to me.
“I wanted to share this with you so you can begin memorizing it.” His dark eyes meet mine.
“Soul Elementals are under strict protocols because of what we’re able to see and do.
” I’ve never heard him mention any of his other elements before.
It has me paying closer attention. “There are boundaries even Lyra isn’t permitted to cross, even for official evaluations. ”
Kai’s eyebrows jump as he silently scoffs.
“You guys think she’ll break decorum?” I ask.
Holden holds my stare. “We know she will.” His certainty sends a chill down my spine. “Everything about you is far too intriguing to overlook. A female Soul Elemental suddenly discovered with an altered background.” He shakes his head. “We have to be prepared for anything.”
I follow his gaze to the page opened, a statute of laws and regulations that are as familiar as the Greek language.
“How will I know if she’s breaking any laws?”
None of them meets my eyes.
“Pain,” Lochlan says finally. “If she forces her way in, it will hurt. Badly.”
“How badly?”
His silver eyes jump to mine, and he hesitates, swallowing thickly. “Like it did when you were in the library and couldn’t stop pouring power into the air shield, and again at Portelina, in the bathing chamber.” He has the good sense to look apologetic, though he doesn’t voice one.
“Will I be able to stop her?”