Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I opened the doors to the library and forgot to breathe.
And I thought the dining room was large.
Vaulted ceilings with curved walnut rafters held wrought-iron chandeliers fashioned like globes, and buckets of light spilled from countless windows. A maze of shelves packed to the brim with books was laid out before me. Ladders of the same dark varnish leaned against the frames, perched on wheels for easy movement.
For the most part, it was quiet. A handful of assassins were parked in overstuffed armchairs, their noses lost in thick books. Another sat at a large oak table and was scribbling on parchment with several tomes spread open before him. My gaze bounced from head to head until I spied a bay window at the far end of the library. One with plush cushions and a view overlooking the yard behind Cruor.
It was occupied by a dark-haired man I almost didn’t recognize.
Back propped against a stack of pillows and legs stretched out before him, Noc lounged with a sizable book in his lap. One hand cradled the worn binding while long fingers toyed with a page. His lips occasionally formed silent words, as if he were reading the text to himself. At one point he frowned. Turned the page. Smiled.
He was entirely engrossed, and the lingering hesitation I harbored after our previous encounter ebbed away. How could he be so different? Warm, intriguing, approachable. Was that what it meant to be an assassin? Able to flip a switch with a moment’s notice? Making a wide circle so as not to draw his attention, I moved closer.
Noc continued to read, his gaze visibly tracking the lines of the story.
Late-morning sun softened the harsh edges of his expression. It was so jarring to see him like this. Relaxed. At ease. A complete and total juxtaposition to the man who’d cast me out of the kitchen with nothing but harsh words and an even sharper glare. This man was almost…endearing.
I inched closer, trying to catch a snippet of text. I wanted to know what he was reading. What story made his lips shape words of their own accord. What pulled him in and gave him such peace.
A snaking thread of frost licked my exposed arm. I glanced down, startled, to find a shadow curling around my bicep.
“You’re not very quiet.”
Noc didn’t look up from his book. I expected his expression to harden, but the only recognition I got was a slight tremor in his jaw. He turned another page.
I swallowed. “Guess not.”
The shadow continued its lazy caress of my skin. It was surprisingly gentle. Gooseflesh followed in its wake, and I suppressed a full-blown shiver. Finally, Noc glanced up. Obsidian eyes burrowed into me, and with a minute flick of his finger, the shadow dispersed.
“Do you need something?” The same question from last night, and yet it held none of the icy sting of before.
“Just passing the time. We could’ve been on our way to Ortega Key by now.”
He closed the book. “Kost is gathering supplies. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” He made a move to stand, and I found myself searching for a reason to keep him seated. My gaze slid to the bold silver title printed across the navy cover of the book.
“A Chalice of Lies?”
His feet touched the floor, but he didn’t stand. “You’ve read it?”
“No.”
He looked disappointed. “Pity. It’s good.”
“What’s it about?”
A glimmer of warmth bloomed in his dark eyes. “A young man who finds a box of letters left for him by his late father. They contain information about the reigning queen. Some are true, some aren’t. It keeps me guessing. The best stories do that. Make you search for the answer. Leave little clues.”
I felt myself smile. “Kind of like a puzzle.”
“Exactly like a puzzle.” His expression lightened a fraction.
This assassin I could work with. We didn’t have to like each other. After all, I’d barged into his home making threats and demands. I’d hurt Kost. It wasn’t exactly the most welcoming of introductions. Noc’s icy demeanor made sense when put into context. Maybe I’d misread him. All things considered, I wouldn’t trust me, either.
Trust was exactly what I needed to spark, at least on his end, if I ever had a chance of securing what I needed.
Noc tilted his head and pressed the book flat between his palms. “Something else on your mind?”
“I’m just interested.” I rotated the ring around my finger.
