He leaned over his knees, dipping a large hand in the water. “You’re right. I don’t want you to tell me. Any of it.”“I hate that,” she breathed. “I hate her.”He looked away, toward Goldryn, discarded behind them on the rock. She’d told him its history this morning as she scarfed down enough food for three full-grown Fae Mob s. He hadn’t seemed particularly impressed, and when she showed him the ring she’d found in the scabbard, he had nothing to say other than “I hope you find a good use for it.” Indeed.But the silence that was building between them was unacceptable. She cleared her throat. Perhaps she couldn’t tell him the truth about the third Wyrdkey, but she could offer him another.The truth. The truth of her, undiluted and complete. And after all that they had been through, all that she still wanted to do …So she steeled herself. “I have never told anyone this story. No one in the world knows it. But it’s mine,” she said, blinking past the burning in her eyes, “and it’s time
The private library’s doors were locked. Joyce jangled the handle, but it refused to open.She said quietly, “Open this door.”The House ignored her.She tried the handle again, shoving a shoulder into the door. “Open this door.”Nothing.She continued slamming her shoulder into the door. “Open this door right now.”The House declined to obey.She gritted her teeth, panting. She’d had more books than yesterday to shelve, as the priestesses had apparently heard from Gwyn that Joyce was to be their errand girl.So they began dumping their tomes on her cart—and a few asked her to retrieve books as well. Joyce had heeded them, if only because finding the requested books took her to new places in the library and occupied her thoughts, but by the time the clock had struck six, she was exhausted and dusty and hungry. She’d ignored the sandwich the House had laid out for her in the afternoon, and this had apparently pissed off the House enough that it now refused to allow her entry int
But she sliced into Leonard before he could go on. “Does that mean you’re done panting after me as well? Because what a relief that will be, to know you’ve finally taken the hint.”Leonard ’s muscled chest heaved, his throat working. “You want to rip yourself apart, go right ahead. Implode all you like.” He stood, meal half-finished. “The training was supposed to help you. Not punish you. I don’t know why you don’t fucking get that.”“I told you: I’m not training in that miserable village.”“Fine.” Leonard stalked out, his pounding steps fading down the hall.Alone with Azriel, Joyce bared her teeth at him.Azriel watched her with that cool quiet, keeping utterly still. Like he saw everything in her head. Her bruised heart.She couldn’t bear it. So she stood, only two bites taken from her food, and left the room as well.She returned to the library. The lights blazed as brightly as they had during the day, and a few lingering priestesses wandered the levels. She found her ca
Joyce stood in the training ring atop the House of Wind and scowled. “I thought we were going up to Windhaven.”Leonard strode over to the rope ladder laid out on the ground and straightened a rung. “Change of plans.” No trace of that red-hot anger had remained on his face this morning when she’d walked into the breakfast room. Azriel was already gone, and Leonard hadn’t said a word about why he’d left. Something about the queens, presumably, judging by what she’d heard the previous night.When she’d finished her porridge, she’d looked for any sign of Morrigan, but the female had never appeared. And Leonard had led her here, not speaking on the walk up.Everyone hates you. The words had lingered, like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing.He finally clarified, “Mor’s gone back to Vallahan, and Rhys and Feyre are busy. So there’s no one to winnow us to Windhaven. We’ll be training here today.” He gestured to the empty ring. Free of any watching eyes. He added with a sharp grin
The minced lamb turned leaden in his stomach at the sight of their uniforms, at how they stood so tall and proud. How many meals had he himself been positioned by the doors, or out in the courtyard, monitoring his boss ? How many times had he laid into his men for slouching, for chattering amongst themselves, and reassigned them to lesser watches?One of the Carl ’s guards noticed his stare and gave a curt nod.Leonard looked away quickly, his palms clammy. But he forced himself to keep observing the faces around him, what they wore and how they moved and smiled.No sign—none—of any wicked force, whether dispatched from Morath or elsewhere. No sign beyond those white banners to honor their fallen princess.Aelin had claimed the Valg had a reek to them, and he’d seen their blood run black from mortal veins more times than he cared to count, but short of demanding everyone in this hall cut open their hands …It actually wasn’t a bad idea—if he could get an audience with the Carl to
Well, it’d certainly be helpful if they bothered to read less and hunt more. But the cats answered to no one and nothing, except, perhaps, their namesake, or whatever god had found a quiet home in the library, within Silba’s shadow. To offend one Baast Cat was to insult them all, and even though Matilda loved most animals—with the exception of some insects—she had been sure to treat the cats kindly, occasionally leaving morsels of food, or providing a belly rub or ear scratch whenever they deigned to command them.But there was no sign of those green eyes glinting in the dark, or of a scurrying mouse fleeing their path, so Matilda loosed a breath and set aside the ancient scroll, carefully placing it at the edge of the desk before pulling an Eyllwe tome toward her.The book was bound in black leather, heavy as a doorstop. She knew a little of the Eyllwe language thanks to living so close to its border with a mother who spoke it fluently—certainly not from the father who had hailed f
The footsteps on the other side of the stack neared. Matilda stood on trembling knees, taboss a steadying breath as she forced herself to walk again. Forced herself to leave that dead healer in the dark. Forced herself to lift her bag as ifnothing had happened, as if showing the satchel to someone ahead.But with the angle of the stacks—the person didn’t know that.“Just finishing up my reading for the night,” she called to her invisible salvation ahead. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Silba that her voice held steady and merry. “Cook is expecting me for a last cup of tea. Want to join?”Maboss it seem like someone was expecting her: another trick she’d pickedup.Matilda cleared five more steps before she realized whoever it was had again halted.Buying her ruse.Matilda dashed the last few feet to the hallway, spotted a cluster of acolytes just emerging from another haze of stacks, and hurtled flat out toward them.Their eyes widened at Matilda ’s approach, and all sh
Matilda sat up, any lingering color draining from her face. “Tumelun’s body was not drained. Hadiza —the Healer on High herself declared it was a suicide.”There was, of course, a chance the two deaths weren’t connected, a chance that Kashin was wrong about Tumelun. Part of Leonard prayed it was so. But even if they were unrelated, what had happened last night—“You need to warn the Carl ,” Matilda said, seeming to read his mind.He nodded. “Of course. Of course I will.” Damned as the entire situation wasPerhaps it was the in he’d been waiting for with the Carl . But he studied her haggard face, the fear there. “I’m sorry—to have brought you into this. Has security been increased around the Torre?”“Yes.” A breathy push of sound. She scrubbed at her face. “And you? Did you come here under guard?”She threw him a frown. “In plain daylight? In the middle of the city?” Leonard crossed his arms. “I would put nothing past the Valg.”She waved a hand. “I won’t be heading alone into a