“You can’t help us if you’re dead.”
I shot him an annoyed look before sweeping my gaze around the area. I stood, searching for the thing that had pulled me here.
“A carving,” I said, seeing it again. The rock I had tripped over jutted out from the mountain, innocuous, but when you looked closer, it had a carving in the top of it.
An image of a jasmine flower.
Kiyan looked down at the same time as I did, and we both drew in a breath at the small flower at our feet.
This was something.
I pulled away from him and knelt down to inspect it. I traced my fingers along its edges, the symbol that was on my mother’s jewelry, and on every book about the Queen’s vault.
In the center was a large hole, the width of a thumb.
Air whistled between my teeth. It looked like keyhole.
I didn’t have a key, but usually, I didn’t need one.
Brushing the dirt away, my excavator instincts kicked in, and I wished I had all my tools with me.
“What are you doing?” Kiyan’s shadow draped over me.
“Looking for a door. Help me.”
Kiyan crouched down, his large frame looking incongruous as he felt for the seam of a door. I snorted at the thought of him being an excavator for the Citadel, his large hands holding the dainty brushes used to clean the delicate relics unearthed.
“What?” He glanced up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Nothing. I appreciate you being so hands-on.”
“What did you expect? Me to stand there glowering in the corner while you searched?”
“Something like that.”
My fingers brushed at the dirt, trying to find the edges of a door that didn’t seem to exist. I released a frustrated sound before something occurred to me. I stood and began to step back, right to the edge of the plateau.
“If you fall off again, I’m not saving you.” Kiyan crossed his arms over his chest.
“I thought I can’t help you if I’m dead?” I mimicked.
“I’ll tell Reza your own stupidity killed you.”
“I’ve been called many things, but never stupid,” I snapped at him. I kicked at the earth. If I couldn’t find the door, I couldn’t unlock it. My gaze ran the perimeter of the plateau, taking in everything.
“It’s the whole thing,” I whispered, and knelt at the edge again. I closed my eyes, imagining the perimeter of the plateau, allowing my magic to fuse into the edges of the door, feed into the jasmine carving, and snap into place.
My golden threads unfurled, pouring into the large hole in the center of the jasmine like rain.
“What...” Kiyan began to speak until my magic sparked to life in the air again, and he watched it with his mouth half open, awe painted on his face.
But I didn’t deserve his admiration, because the lock resisted me. It didn’t open.
I shook my head, working on the lock with my threads, coaxing it to listen. I fought it, pushing against its resistance.
Sitting back on my heels, frustration rose in my chest. I realized that Kiyan had no idea that I could open doors as well as find them, but I couldn’t be bothered to hide that portion of my magic anymore.
“What are you trying to do?”
