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All too soon, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and slightly disoriented. She blinked up at him. “I’ll be back soon,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the fountain. Promise.”
Endreth swallowed, then nodded, his gaze hardened as he released her from his hold.
Then she was off, disappearing into the shadows, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind focused on the task at hand. Anthea could feel Endreth’s eyes on her until she was well out of sight, his silent support lending her strength.
23
Using the darkness as a cover, Anthea slowly made her way toward the Cattleya court’s vault. Her heart pounded in her chest. If it weren’t for the music drumming through the corridors—she was sure someone would hear it. The castle’s labyrinthine layout was a daunting challenge, but she had studied; she had prepared for this; she could do this.
Gold lined the towering ceilings, glimmering ethereally under the soft glow of magic-infused torches. She passed majestic marble columns, adorned with carvings of blooming flowers and huge bear-like beasts. Her bare feet made silent contact with the tiled floor, crimson dress billowing gently with every step in her wake. The twin slits allowed her unrestricted movement. She didn’t think wearing red had been the brightest idea—but all her dresses for the event had been red. Something to do with keeping up with the appearances . . .
Anthea stopped, peeking around a column—waiting. Endreth had told her guards usually patrol this area.
She saw no one; heard no one.
Anthea sighed in relief.
It was likely the guards had been drawn away by the festivities, adding an unexpected advantage to her task. She slipped away from the column and increased her pace.
Then she felt it: a soft tingle prickling at her skin. It was the first line of magical defense—a barrier of sorts. Anthea steeled herself as she walked through, fearing she would trigger an alarm, a trap, anything. But nothing happened. She only hoped this immunity would hold for the stronger enchantments protecting the actual vault?—
Fear twisted in her gut, knotting into a lump of icy dread. She pushed through it, her thoughts straying to her home. The singular thought of returning to her sisters was a beacon in the darkness, a goal worth risking it all for. She needed these books. And so, she pressed on, her steps soft in the eerie stillness of the hall.
Anthea stopped at the vault door: a monolith of grandeur, shimmering with intricate, luminescent symbols that danced and whirled in an almost sentient manner. It throbbed with energy—ancient spells cast by the seasoned mages of the Cattleya court. The magic was designed to deter unwelcome intruders, to allow entry only to the ruling family members of the court.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Anthea extended a trembling hand toward the door, her fingertips brushing against the cold surface. It hummed beneath her touch.
Then, she gripped the handle and yanked it open. For a brief moment, the audacity of her actions stunned her—she would steal from Icarion’s vault; she would do it right under his upturned nose.
The vault was a cavernous spectacle, walls adorned with shelves holding piles of gold, old artifacts, and gleaming jewels that twinkled under the dim, magical illumination. The air was heavy with age, reeking of centuries-old spells cast to protect the treasures within. Amid the wealth, she spotted the section dedicated to books. Tall shelves stacked high with ancient tomes bound in exquisite leather, their titles embossed in shimmering gold and silver.
Anthea walked closer, skimming through the titles, searching for the two volumes that could hold the key to her freedom: The Tales of the Dragon Realms and The Ways of the Dragons.
Finally, she spotted them on the second level of the shelves.
The books seemed to pulsate with the aura of whatever spells guarded them, the air around them shimmering with the intensity of their magical wards—wards designed to inflict unbearable pain on anyone foolish enough to touch them.
Fear threatened to creep in, whispering dreadful outcomes into her ear, but she ruthlessly pushed it aside.
She couldn’t falter now.
Anthea picked up the books one by one. Each book was heavier than she’d anticipated. Carefully, she placed them into a small linen bag Endreth had given her earlier.
These books, these vast collections of pages, might hold the key to her returning home.
Anthea cast a final glance at the still-sparkling treasures around her, the trove of gems and gold, the magnificent sculptures, and the rich tapestries that adorned the walls—and left.
Closing the door softly behind her, she was back in the deserted corridors of the castle. Emotions welled up within her as she retraced her steps, the feeling of relief, excitement, and dread coiling together. She had the books; she had the potential knowledge that could be her ticket home. Now, she only had to reach Endreth at their agreed meeting place—the secluded fountain situated in the eastern part of the castle gardens. Anthea was closer than ever to returning home, closer than ever to escaping this strange world that had ensnared her.
She couldn’t believe it.
Out of nowhere, a powerful hand seized her elbow, wrenching her into a concealed alcove. Her scream was muffled by a large palm pressing against her mouth as her bare back collided with the cold stone wall. Her wide eyes landed on a male chest clad in black leather. How had she allowed herself to become so distracted? Anthea had thought the hard part was over, all that was left was to reunite with Endreth. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drum echoing her panic.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The male’s grip on her elbow was unyielding, but not painful. His hand left her mouth.
“I-I need to get back to my master,” Anthea stammered, injecting every possible nuance of fear into her words.
“I followed you. Saw you walk through those wards as if they were mere cobwebs. How did you do it?”
