And when it seemed she would succumb without relinquishing her magic, Idia’s enemy, as they had with her sisters, grew desperate in their inadequacy. They took Idia’s Stewards to the knife, and when the blades touched their necks, Idia rose like a dark creature.
Theo came to tell her that the half hour had elapsed, and that he would be back momentarily. She waved him off, hair falling into her eyes, suddenly frantic.
Theo’s footsteps withdrew.
Polly’s hands shook.
She sent a shudder through the earth so mighty that the hills reformed, theslopes melding and splitting. The soil turned to liquid, shifting underfoot and swallowing men whole. The earth rose and fell to protect her, its loving mother. A crack appeared, cleaving the land in two, so deep the pit of hell was glimpsed. And Idia, ebbed of power and blood, greeted the black as though it were an old friend and went gladly into it.
The earth cradled her and closed its seam, so no man would reach her again.
But in coming years, the fields and meadows would grow abundantly, and the ones who witnessed the magic there would come to believe that beneath the surface, magic lurked.
Even after death, Idia’s enemy would not relent, and the people of the Trench pillaged the earth…
“Almost done with that, are you?” came a voice.
Polly paused without looking up, her entire body convulsed in shivers. The very makeup of her existence, of every existence, shifting. “Another moment, please,” she said hurriedly, praying she was mistaken.
“Take as many as you need” came the answer, only this time, the speaker pulled out the chair opposite, the wooden legs shrieking across the tiles. The man sat straight-backed, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned his cane against the desk.
Lord Shop looked back at Polly and seemed to settle in. Over Polly’s shoulder, she noticed, for the first time, the outfit of Artisans, of policemen, shackles and batons in hand. Between two of these officers, Theo was detained, his lips white with fear, his eyes beseeching her.
“Go ahead, Miss Prescott,” Lord Shop said, his eyes lowering to the glistening ink on the page. “I’m dying to see how it ends.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINENINA
I slipped through the doors as a surge of Artisans exited.
There was a scream, and it was difficult to tell which direction it came from. It seemed the Artisans were being shepherded out by Scribblers, all of whom wore stark expressions, their eyes wide and fearful. One called to me as I barreled past. I ignored them and fought my way through the confused horde.
And then, the stacks, the dim oppressive light, the close air and the smell of a thousand pages. Normally comforting, but now, an omen. Another scream—a woman’s.
There were sounds of protests from behind, and I turned to see Patrick, so patently out of place, skirting around the sea of Artisans flooding the exit.
“Hey!” shouted an officer, trying to funnel toward him. “You can’t be in here!”
The moment he got close, Patrick pulled a gun from his coat and held it to the man’s gut. “You’re gonna scare all the swanks, lad,” he said. “Get out of here while you can.”
The officer swallowed once, seemed to consider Patrick’s size, then turned on his heel and left with the remaining visitors.
My back was pressed against the first row beside a rolling ladder, and Patrick met me there, his eyes icier than ever. “Well,” he murmured, looking around the corner, down the empty aisle. “That was a fuckin’ choice, wasn’t it?”
My heart pounded. “We can’t let him just take everything,” I whispered, sweat beading over my forehead. “It can’t all have been for nothing.”
Patrick swore beneath his breath, then held his gun up to me. “Not a single bullet in the chamber,” he breathed. “Do you understand that? Not a single fuckin’ one.”
“I’ll rip the ground up around us if I have to,” I told him.
“Lord almighty,” he growled quietly, looking up to the ceiling. “We’re outnumbered, Scurry girl.”
But I hadn’t lost everything only to lose this, too. I’d kill Lord Shop here, in this very library. It didn’t matter who else I had to bury with him.
“Please,” I said to Patrick, the void in me yawning wide. “Let me do this.” He must have seen the desperation leaking through, the shake in my breath.
Seconds passed, and then he growled and looked away. He took my wrist in his hand and held it tightly. “Have mercy,” he said. “Stay behind me.”
Backs hunched, we slunk down the aisles, listening for voices. The vaulted ceiling only fed us the sounds of someone’s whimpering. It was almost impossible to tell from which direction it came. Adrenaline swarmed me.
