My gaze flicks in his direction. “What does itlooklike I’m doing?”
“Stealing the Book of Voyd from this ancient protective chamber, making an instant enemy of the Tri-Council.”
“Correct, yes. The Tri-Council can eat spangle shit for all I care.”
His silence tells me he appreciates neither my snark nor my thieving antics.
I sigh, dashing a hand at Roan. “He’s already been ‘assassinated’ for this very crime. Technically, the book’s free game, and it could help protect your folk against the impending moonfalls. Let’s not waste time mourning my withered moral aptitude.”
The look I receive is dryer than the Boltanic Plains, time stretching before Kaan fills his chest and blows out a sigh. “You’re right.”
I gape at him. “I’mwhat?”
“Right.”
“Louder this time. And with more gusto.”
His responding glower almost makes me laugh despite our shitty predicament.
“Be quick about it,” he grits out, jutting his chin forward. “Before somebody catches us.”
I throw him an exaggerated bow, spinning to grab—
“WAIT!” Roan yells, barely refraining from leaping over the threshold into the room with me. “You might faint if you touch it with your bare hands. Or …worse.”
Kaan and Pyrok both glare daggers at him, the former growling a taut“Explain.”
“It’s not a normal book,” Roan continues, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s said to grapple with anyone who picks it up.”
Sounds fun, just maybe not right now.
“Sometimes to thedeath,” he tacks on, and my brows bump up. “There are stories of past Tri-Council members disappearing from this very chamber, leaving nothing behind but splats of blood. Once, a Mindweftendured the book for a long while, but eventually became so troubled she had to be cut loose. I hear they’ve only recently found someone who appears to be able to come and go without going mad or getting slaughtered. So far.”
Wow. The Fate Herder wasabsolutelytrying to get me killed again.
Prick.
Wish I had it in me to skin the asshole next time he prowls into my personal space. Turn him into a pretty silver rug or an end-of-pallet throw.
“Alright, well. Worst-case scenario, I get mauled to death by the book. Good to know.”
Silence hungers as I pull a blade to strip the hem off my black cloak, using it to protect my hands and lift the book off the plinth—ice cold despite the thick buffer of material. Like I just plucked it from a nest amongst the stars.
My heart labors, a tightness in my chest almost pulling me in on myself.
I tip the book, checking it’s still in one piece before I gently bundle it within the material. “Now what?”
“You get the fuck out of there.” Kaan’s volcanic eyes burn, his entire body trembling, hands fisted at his sides.“Now.”
Islash a metal hook through the leathery skin of the slow-moving magma river, carving a bright-orange wound. Smoke and lava spew free, releasing a heat so brutal the air distorts, squirming around it.
Tossing the tool aside, I scoop my bucket full of loose molten stone. Move away from the scorching heat, up the steep bank, into the dark tunnel beyond. Not that it grows much cooler, the air in these underground warrens a thick sulfuric haze I doubt I’ll ever get used to choking back.
The bucket’s glowing contents light my short journey through the tight passageway—barely taller than me and just as wide—until I come to a small, domed cavern I spoke into the orange stone. I set down the bucket and jostle a jar of firelice, encouraging them to rouse and better illuminate my humble lodgings. Basic. Large enough for my nest, some flat stone to slumber on, and space to stash my few belongings.
I pull off a glove and tug my dense shroud down around my neck, thankful for the air-purifying runes Roan was kind enough to teach me as I fill my lungs with slightly less-toxic air. The only comfort I have in this caustic place, but a welcome one.
Crouching beside the makeshift nest I’ve spent cycles perfecting, I slop some magma into the bowl, quick to smooth it around. Reshape it.
