I’m probably going to leave empty-handed again tonight, and that terrifies me. Because with Rissa’s new plan, time is breathing down my neck now more than ever. I might have to abandon this idea of finding a map and start searching on foot instead. I have no idea how I’m going to avoid all of the guards in this place though.
I don’t want to fail—myself or Digby. And I don’t want to be failed, either.
At that awful dinner, with the way Midas treated me, there was a moment when I wanted Slade to intervene. To show me that his previous words were true.
I let myself hope.
Since we kissed on my balcony, this thing between us has grown. Expanded. Just like he was accused of encroaching on Fulke’s territory, Slade has encroached on me. On my emotions.
I tried to fold it up. Creased it with denial, tucking it beneath the furthest recesses of my thoughts. But like a finger slipping beneath the flap of a letter, I couldn’t resist the temptation to open it, to see what was inside.
Now, all I have are empty words and paper cut pains radiating from my chest, because he didn’t prove it to me like he said he would.
My stupid heart hasn’t learned its lesson, it seems. So I have to get out of here before it ruins me completely.
Suppressing a sneeze from the dusty air, I get to my feet, sore knees popping from all the time I’ve spent kneeling on the hard floor rummaging through scrolls. I didn’t find anything in this stack but old birth records of Fifth’s monarchs.
Real exciting stuff.
With a huff, I drag myself away, delving deeper into the cavernous room and wishing for the hundredth time that there was more light in this place.
I wander over to a bookshelf that’s cut right into the wall. A single sconce hangs on the left, a good foot away from the nearest shelf and casting off a pitiful amount of light. Honestly, there’s enough dust on these books that they’d probably smother any flame that dared try to burn anything.
Squinting, I let my fingers drag across the book spines just enough to read the titles. When nothing helpful leaps out at me, I stand up on my tiptoes to look at the scrolls at the top, but just as my fingers close around some, footsteps clop my way.
With a silent grumble, I abandon the shelf and hurry in the opposite direction, cursing whichever scribe is interrupting me. I’m never going to find these stupid maps at this rate.
As I head for the first bookcase to duck behind, another pair of footsteps sounds from that direction. The two scribes begin to talk quietly as they near each other, their voices echoing off the walls and making it sound like they’re much closer than I first thought.
I whirl on my heel and rush back the way I came and then dart between two shelves, not even paying attention to where I’m going, so long as it’s far away from them.
The voices converge somewhere to my left, and then their steps fall into unison as they walk together. Toward me. Again. I shoot a look at the ceiling as if I can see straight through to the night sky and curse the goddesses hiding in the stars.
I cut a sharp right to the next aisle of stacks, and then another one, and another. The library swallows me in its dark belly, but it’s worth it, because soon, I put enough distance between us that I don’t hear the scribes speaking anymore. I stop to catch my breath, ears straining, and finally relax after several seconds when no other sounds greet me.
Unfortunately, the deep breaths I keep pulling in means I inhale a whole lot of dust, and my nose tingles violently. All I manage to do is slap a hand over my mouth before the sneeze ruptures out of me.
It echoes.
Loudly.
I freeze in horror, heart taking off like a wild horse, not daring to even breathe as I listen for the scribes to come running my way.
“Bless you.”
A shriek clutches my tongue and crumples beneath my throat. Hand on heart, I spin around and find none other than Slade leaning against the stone bookshelf. With dark clothes, piercing green eyes, and power curling over his sharp jaw, he practically basks in the shadows.
“Don’t do that!” I snap, though my voice is barely louder than an exhale. I’ve made enough noise as it is.
With his arms crossed in front of him and a smirk on his pale face, the bastard looks perfectly at ease and amused as hell.
“Do what?” he asks with a cock of his head. “Say bless you?”
I look over my shoulder as if I’m ready for the scribes to storm the row and grab me with their frail, age-spotted hands.
“Be quiet!” I hiss.
This time, he does nothing to hide his amusement, because his teeth gleam in the dark as a smile spreads over his face. “Only you would dare tell King Rot to be quiet.”