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“Why not?” Nava clutched her stomach with her wounded arm. She already knew she wouldn’t like the answer to that question. “Is it not just a place for books?”
A stupid thing to ask, judging by Devon’s clenched jaw and Arkimedes’s tightened fists.
“Not quite,” Devon said. “All archives have a scrying mirror. I haven’t been to the one downstairs, but there must be one. The Society hides the mirrors in many shapes, and they communicate directly with its headquarters.”
Now she definitely felt uneasy. She moved toward her chair, reaching for her discarded drink. Alcohol would do wonders to make her forget about her anxiety and bone-deep exhaustion.
“But the mirror can also find information,” Arkimedes said. “The books will contain knowledge about the portals, and using the mirror can help us locate the right source quicker.”
Devon rubbed his eyes. “The Vulcan will alert them, Arkimedes. She is Celeste’s daughter. It’s enough of a miracle that the house let you through. I’m not so certain the mirror will think you’re one of us.”
“Which is why I won’t be the one handling it.”
“You want me to do it?” A rough laugh escaped Devon’s chapped lips, his chair scraping over the tile floor as he stood in a jagged motion. His jaw tightened before he spoke. “I’m too tired for this shit, and I’m not talking any more about this until I’ve had a wash and a good rest.”
He picked up his empty bowl and dropped it in the sink on his way out of the kitchen. “I’m taking the first room to the left. Good luck finding a clean place to sleep. This house is not what it used to be.”
6
ORION
The halls on the second floor were long and narrow, with dark wooden panels that extended from floor to ceiling. Orion much preferred the murals downstairs. They reminded him of the forest.
Beside him, Nava’s heavy steps dragged over the worn rug as she studied the paintings on the walls. All of them were group images depicting members of the Society of Crows, their faces a familiar anchor to a time that felt like an eternity ago.
“Are you in any of these?” She slowed to a stop and rose on tiptoes, studying the largest piece of art. Her brows were knitted tightly together with concentration.
“I’m sure they removed the one with me in it,” he said.
“Why would they do that?” She moved on to the next image without waiting for his answer, her brown and blue eyes bouncing over neat brushstrokes. “Do you think my mother is here?”
Her tired voice lit up with a trace of hope. Of course. It made sense that she’d want to see Celeste’s likeness immortalized in oil paint.
“No.” The finality of his tone made her expression fall. He cleared his throat to unravel the heavy knot that had formed there. “They don’t keep any paintings with members who have died or those featuring traitors.”
“But these are group paintings. What about the other people who haven’t died or betrayed the Society?”
“They commission a new artist, and the painting gets replaced. They don’t want any of us to be reminded of our own mortality.”
“Or that people can change allegiance?”
“Exactly.”
Nava froze in front of the next painting, her eyes narrowing in on a dark shape that took over the bright picture. It wasn’t hard to find him amongst the group of Crows. “You’re still here…”
Orion moved closer to take in the old picture. That was him at twenty years of age. A month ago, before he’d discovered that he’d lost his memories, the image would have appeared recent to him.
But now…it seemed like so long ago, and he could tell the difference in his youthful face. He’d even forgotten what these people’s voices sounded like, although some of them had been friends.
“This particular safe house we’re standing in front of was in the Gold Kingdom.” He remembered the rolling hills with tall grass, where it was less swelteringly hot in the summer.
Nava squinted at the picture. “Is she holding your arm?”
Orion blinked and inspected the picture again. Who did she mean? Ah, the woman beside him. He hadn’t been paying such close attention to her before.
“I’d forgotten Faria used to do that…”
“She seems rather friendly with you.” Nava’s cheeks turned bright red. The pit of his stomach suddenly churned with feelings that weren’t his but burned through his veins like wildfire.
