Neither do I.
I roll my head to the left—veer the final blow and escape his scouring stare.My gaze lands on an open archway between two tapestries, a sliver of bright shafting through a dull skylight, illuminating—
Books.
Stacks of storedbooks.
Finally.
“Great chat. Super uplifting. Now, if you could step out of my way …” I try to wriggle free, but all that really does is familiarize me with the stony slants of his powerful body. “I’ve found what I was looking for.”
He glances over his shoulder to the opposite wall, and though he doesn’t move an inch, I somehow feel less stuck to the stone.
Jerking free, I snatch his sputtering torch off the ground and dash toward the room, stepping within the eerily silent space, breathing thick, musty air as I scan the uneven piles of books—some almost twice my height, others no higher than my knee.Somany books, I’m certain I could spend the rest of my life pawing over the words and never make it through them all.
I think.
I have no idea what my life expectancy is. Perhaps I’m eternal. A simmering stain that doesn’t rub out.
That’s one of the things I’m here to find out.
I weave down a wiggly path between the stacks, settle near a navel-high pile, and blow the thick icing of dust from the top, batting the swirling particles that rush up to meet me.
It’s no Spines, that’s for sure.
“These symbols on the front …” Rhordyn’s deep, echoing voice rattles me as he reaches past, casting shivers up my arm.
Across my chest.
I feel my nipples pinch into tight little peaks when he traces the gold-brushed stamp pressed into the leather.
A shifting mountain would feel less significant.
“It’s ancient Valish for mathematics,” he says, the words a cold blow against my ear. “In case you were wondering.”
“You ruined the surprise,” I croak.
“Apologies.”
“Not forgiven.”
Jaw set, he makes this low, rumbling sound that almost buckles my knees, then paces between the stacks, inspecting the scene as though he’s studying a field for the most advantageous way to battle amongst it. “It appears Cain shifted his entire library down here.”
Probably thought they looked messy stacked in his pristine, blue-stone shrine.
“Better than using the books for firewood,” I mumble flatly, receiving a grunt in return.
I pry my gaze away from the brutish anomaly tucked between the fragile stacks, leaving little room for me to breathe.
Or think.
No.
Frowning, I force my lungs full and snatch the book from the top of the pile, flick through the pages, and confirm that it is, in fact, entirely dedicated to mathematical equations.
Snapping it shut, I set it aside and scan the stacks …
It’s going to take forever to find what I’m looking for.
