Nocturne whispered, “He told you what he was going to do to them.”
Kit shifted again, a strand of snowy hair falling in his face. Nocturne tilted her head back to look at him; the sharp lines of his silhouette were softened by starlight. For the briefest moment, his eyes flicked to hers.
“It didn’t matter when I told him I changed my mind—that I’d do as he asked. He ignored me and ordered them killed anyway. It took his men a week to reach the city where my family lived, and during that whole time, I was trapped in that gods-awful room in the catacombs.” A heavy pause. Nocturne held her breath. “I…feltwhen they died—my world changed that day. There was a squeezing in my chest. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. They were gone, and nothing in the world would ever bring them back.”
“Did you…did you ever wish you could join them?”
His fingers tightened around hers. “Every day.” The two words were strangled. “But more than that, I wished for revenge. I wanted to rip the flesh off the bones of the men who’d killed them.”
“Why didn’t you?” she whispered. “Why serve in his army, after everything?”
Silence. And then, “Because he didn’t kill all of them. Two members of my family remain—my mother and my eldest sister. Their safety is my tether to the North, and he knows that as long as he holds them under his thumb, he also holds me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking.
A gentle squeeze of her hand was the only acknowledgment he gave to her apology. And then he said, “You saw them, didn’t you?” His gaze drifted over her, to the forest across the ravine. He was speaking ofherfamily now.
Nocturne sniffled and used her sleeve to wipe at her runny nose. “They were with a little girl. A spirit, I think.”
Kit’s voice was hollow as he said, “Not a spirit. I’ve seen her before, too. Izlia, the Goddess of Death.” A breeze ruffled their hair and clothes, carrying with it the scent of orchids and decay. “She was once called by another name,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Nocturne waited in silence until he spoke again.
“Hannelore.”
44
Hadrian had gone to the library half an hour ago, and he still wasn’t back. Although the lingering poison from the arrowhead was making her drowsy, Avalon was tired of lying around all day doing nothing. She’d asked Hadrian to find new books for her to read, but he’d taken the others with him when he’d left so he could return them. Without any books in here, there was literally nothing to do.
As she nibbled on her lip, she remembered there was still one book—the one whose pages she hadn’t thought to flip through since the incident in the Iron Forest.
She shuffled over far enough to grab her bag, and she didn’t bother putting the mask on this time as she flipped the book open to a random page. She would rather Sable didn’t watch as she failed—yetagain—to translate a language that she wasn’t even sure was learnable.
But the words and symbols stared back at her, their meanings suddenly so crisp clear that Avalon gasped out loud and nearly tumbled to the floor.
She read and read, but before she could get too far, she staggered over to the cluttered table and grabbed a quill, a pot of ink, and a scrap of parchment.
Leaning on the table, the book aglow in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, she started writing.
~
The lands surrounding the Elven House were a maze of gold bridges arching over lazy streams, and weeping willows drooping low over tangled dirt paths. Avalon and Kyrie strolled across one of these bridges, a dozen guards following behind them at a respectful distance. The intricate patterns carved into the gleaming surface of the guardrail left Avalon’s mouth hanging open in awe.
She had requested Kyrie’s presence today for two reasons: to ask if she knew where to find the Star of Midra, and to see if the Elven princess knew anything about spells. Ever since they’d left the Realm of Ice with the book in their possession, and since removing the bracelet Avalon had foolishly believed was her mother’s, she had wondered about the dizziness. The headaches.
The same headaches that became unbearably fierce whenever she so much as glanced at the pages in the Book of Elements.
She hadn’t told Hadrian yet, but she had revealed the truth to Sable earlier that afternoon—that she was now able to read the book. But there was a catch: she could only read it if iron was not in contact with her skin, the mask included. That left the question ofhow.Everyone they’d talked to about the complicated tongue had said it was the language of gods, only readable by those in the Celestial City or the Spirit Realm. So why could Avalon read it?
Sable cut into her brooding.I don’t think we should tell the captain. Not yet anyway.
Me neither.
Kyrie’s voice, soft as the stream trickling over the colorful rocks below the bridge, startled them both, regardless of the low volume. “Something is troubling you, Lady Avalon. I knew full well there was something you wanted to ask me when you suggested we go for a stroll.”
Avalon stopped halfway across the bridge and leaned against the rail. The guards came to a standstill a broad distance away. As she drummed her fingers on the gold, Kyrie waited patiently in silence as she found her voice. “Are you familiar with the rules concerning spells?” she said at last.
Kyrie settled her slender arms onto the rail. “I know more than the average person,” she began. “Our race once specialized in spells. Which type are you curious about?”
