Page 13 of The Seeker

It would take far too long, and far too much energy, to continue on with my current tactic. Instead, I reverted to my school days, counting the shelves on the bookcases from where I sat. There were just over fifty, and I’d already touched forty of them. Unless Hansen spent time burying the Seid books on the high shelves the furthest from the door (which was a possibility, albeit slim) there was a good chance the books I was searching for weren’t even in the library.

That was enough confirmation for me. Standing, I brushed my dusty hands on my husband’s breeches. It was amazing how much a change of clothes had affected my mood. Where this kind of searching might have exhausted me days earlier, now I felt invigorated at the idea of searching right under Leif’s nose.

Something made me pause, and I knew I shouldn’t waste the opportunity I was presented with. Turning back to the filled shelves, to the shelf Leif had once pulled a history book of Malheim from, I tilted my head to the side and read the spines as I walked. It was toward the end, tucked between The Heimland Revolution, and A History of Kings.

The History of the Seid.

The book was small in my hands, likely containing no more than 100 pages. My heart sank over the fact that the history of an entire people could be reduced to this. But still, I slipped the book into the front of my shirt before turning to exit once more.

I’d already taken a chance, coming to the library in daylight hours, but as I prepared to exit the room, I cracked my neck, remembering my brief spy training the season before. I could do this.

I closed my eyes, thinking as I would expect Hansen to think, and I narrowed down where I should search next for the magic books. Hansen would have kept the books close to him, and not where they could be stumbled upon—meaning I just wasted my time in the library—but I also knew that he didn’t want Leif to accidentally curse himself, meaning they wouldn’t be in our quarters.

I needed to find Hansen’s former suite of rooms.

When Leif and I had arrived back to the keep, newly bonded, three fortnights before, I was led directly to the suite of rooms we occupied now. Which, unless the elder Hansen’s death was premeditated by his own son, meant they were not the suite of rooms once occupied by his father.

I peered both ways before stepping out of the library. The halls were quiet, and it was a struggle to keep my booted footfalls silent. As I approached the courtyard in the middle of the palace, I gazed up, trying to gauge the time of day by the sun’s path in the sky. It was directly above, so everyone must’ve been at the midday meal. Although it was likely a tray would have been left in the bedroom for me, the servant who left it would, with any luck, assume I was in the bathing chamber and wouldn’t look any further.

At least, I hoped that was the case.

Hesitantly, I changed my path, heading for the kitchen instead of the servant’s quarters. I couldn’t ask Leif for the location of his father’s rooms, and unfortunately, I also couldn’t trust the staff not to report me to Leif. Meaning I needed an excuse.

I arrived at the kitchen, which I’d visited once, many moons before, to cook a potion for Collum in the middle of the night. The room was entirely different now, bustling with activity as servants rushed back and forth, filling pots which hung over the several stoves with a myriad of ingredients. None of them appeared to notice my presence.

I cleared my throat.

The woman closest to me stopped, a loaf of bread clutched in her arms. “Yes?”

“I’m wondering if one of you could guide me to Viscount Hansen’s former rooms?”

“Um . . .” The woman bit her lip and looked across the room, but none of the servants stopped their motions.

“Leif said someone here would be able to show me the way. He’s too busy to show me himself.” It was a lie, the second of many I would likely have to tell. I didn’t like lying, I never had, but it was one of the few skills in my limited repertoire after a lifetime of lying to the citizens of Ralheim about my identity.

“Yes. Let me set this down, and I’ll guide you.” She rushed to the counter to set down the loaf and whisper something to the woman who stood there, slicing bread. She glanced my way briefly but said nothing.

It was difficult in the crowded room to distinguish the emotions that flowed my way and who they belonged to, but when the servant girl led me from the room, I was able to feel that she harbored no suspicion, only curiosity.

In the Hansen Keep, I hadn’t seen much beyond the rooms that surrounded the courtyard, as those were the guest rooms. Leif’s set of rooms was like the servants’ hall—one hallway off of the main courtyard, providing more privacy and comfort than the rooms that opened to the outdoors. The servant woman led me past what I’d come to recognize as Friar’s healing room, past where Leif and I lived, to a dark door at the end of the hall.

She opened the door, then turned to me, her nervousness increasing. “I cannot go in with you.”

“No need,” I assured her, adding a quick, “Thank you,” as I stepped into the dark. The first step was easy, but when I lifted my foot to step a second time, panic climbed up my throat as I realized there was nothing there.

I couldn’t stop the sound that emerged from my mouth—something between a squeak and a scream. I was falling, my arms flailing, until my foot made contact with something solid, my hands slamming into stone.

“It’s stairs,” the servant woman said from behind me, and it was all I could do to nod.

“Yes, I just misunderstood how soon they started,” I lied, trying to make it sound like Leif had warned me. “Is there a torch system?”

“Yes,” she replied. “One moment.”

I waited there, convincing my eyes to adjust to the dark with no success.

There was a reddish glow from behind me, and I turned to accept the torch from the servant’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” I told her again, lifting the lantern to take in the stone staircase in front of me. It was a spiral, and I was unable to see the end.