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Gesine holds the book in front of her. “That is it.”
Jarek looks up at Pan in disbelief. “How did you find this?”
Pan shrugs. “I saw a leaf with a funny shape, not like the others, you know? And I thought that was neat, maybe it’s good luck, and maybe Eden would like it, so I tugged at it and—”
“Fuck. Forget I asked.” Jarek shakes his head. “Nitwit.”
I dismiss them both, dropping to the ground to trace the scrolling lines with my fingertip. High-pitched giggles sound in my ears that no one else hears. “This is definitely something.”
“Look here.” Gesine brushes aside the last few branches to uncover a small space where a hand could fit.
I groan. “This again. Great.” The last time I did this, I lost at least a pint of blood. But it opened up Ulysede to us.
What will this open?
She peers at me in earnest. “The book with Lucretia’s lessons must be hidden in here. This is important.”
“We should notify the king,” Jarek says.
I shake my head. “He’s busy. And we need answers. I need answers.”
With a sigh of reluctance, Jarek nods.
“Back up, everyone. Clear the circle.”
Jarek grabs Pan by the scruff of his shirt and hauls him away like he’s a little boy who can’t be trusted.
I fit my hand into the space and wince at the bite from the jagged stone shards that cut into my flesh. Despite the pain, I watch with fascination as my blood trails along the scrawling lines, just like it did on the exterior wall.
A loud rumble sounds, stone scraping against stone. Gesine and I share a look of trepidation and then suddenly, the entire circle sinks, releasing my hand in the process.
A steep, circular set of stairs waits for us, the burning torches that line the walls beckoning us to descend into the darkness.
I peer over the edge. “Well … I guess … shall we?” I can’t see the bottom.
Jarek draws two swords. “Pan, stay here. If there’s any sign of trouble, you find the king.” The warrior spares a steely look for the mortal. “And if you are not standing in that exact spot when we come back, you and I will have a very long and painful discussion.”
Pan swallows hard. “Don’t move. Got it.”
Jarek leads us down the uneven, winding steps, pausing several times for me to find my balance against the dizziness. Finally, we reach the bottom, ending in a circular stone chamber no more than twenty feet in diameter, dark save for the burning torches.
Four stone nymphs sit perched on pedestals around the circle, all facing inward. Beyond them, it’s empty.
“I don’t see this book anywhere.”
“Neither do I,” Gesine whispers, as she takes in the gargoyle version, much like the one that looms in the grand hall.
“Look at this, though.” I wander over to the wall, where nymph scrawl is carved into stone. It’s a tall rectangle, a hard, etched line defining the shape. “What is this?”
“I do not know, but there are more like it here.” Gesine points out two other rectangles with engravings.
“There are more around the room,” Jarek confirms.
I draw a fingertip over a line in the one nearest me, expecting that familiar childish laughter, only nothing responds. It’s as if my link is cut off. “It’s not answering me. Maybe it’s not from the nymphs?”
“I have seen something much like this before, deep within Mordain. What it means, though, what it is for … I have no idea. The seers have not seen the answer.”
“But it must be something important.” Why else have it hidden and protected within this vault?
I catch the faintest sound at my right, a second before my peripheral vision spots movement, and then it’s suddenly four feet away from me—a snake the color of midnight, rising up … up … up … until it towers, its citron eyes boring into mine.
Jarek dives between us before I can even scream, his blade angling for a sweeping blow just as Gesine shrieks, “No!”
But his blade never reaches the snake’s body before striking an invisible barrier, the metal vibrating from the force of impact.
Jarek grits his teeth against the painful jolt to his arms. “Was that you, witch?”
“It was not me,” Gesine says calmly, her focus locked on the creature. “But you must stay your blade. I think this is Lucretia.”
The snake’s forked tongue slips out, waggling at him, and it seems a tease.
Jarek ushers me backward with an arm across my chest as the long, scaled body folds into itself and curves, over and over again, melding until its scales disappear and it no longer resembles a snake. When it unfolds again, its form is veiled behind sheer fabric that offers no coverage for the feminine curves beneath.
“Clever sorceress,” the humanlike creature purrs, her voice throaty and seductive, as is the way she moves.
