—RECOVERED CORRESPONDENCE OF LIEUTENANT XADEN RIORSON TO CADET VIOLET SORRENGAIL
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We’re back in enough time for me to visit the Archives, so I do just that. If I can’t see Xaden, I may as well spend my time researching. It’s late afternoon before I can get cleaned up and make my way down there, and it makes me smile to see Jesinia working at one of the tables with Aoife.
Aoife looks up at the sound of my bootsteps, prompting Jesinia to, as well. They both wave and I return the gesture.
I pause at the study table, setting down my book to return as the two have a quick discussion before Aoife rises and heads to the back of the Archives. Then Jesinia walks over, carrying what looks to be the notebook Aoife brought along during the land navigation exercise.
“What are you doing in here on a Sunday?” I sign as she reaches the study table.
She puts the notebook down on the scarred oak surface and lifts her hands to sign. “Helping Aoife transcribe her account into the official report to be filed. She’s taking a quick break. Want to see what she chronicled?” She picks up the notebook and offers it to me.
“Absolutely.” I nod, then take the notebook and skim Aoife’s neat handwriting. It’s amazingly accurate, with little details I’d missed, like the two infantry cadets who’d offered to be the healers’ aides because that’s their job for the squad. They have designated roles for each mission. I set it down on top of the book I’m returning to sign. “This is incredible.”
“Glad to hear it’s accurate.” She glances over her shoulder, as if checking to see if we’re alone, which we are. “The tricky thing is to capture the truth and not just an interpretation. Stories can change depending on who tells them.”
If she only knew. How does someone like Jesinia graduate to become whatever Markham has evolved into? “Can I ask… What book did Jacek request that got him hauled away and killed?” I sign before I think better of it.
Her eyes widen. “He was killed?”
I nod. “A few days after we saw Markham take him.”
Her face turns the same shade as her robes. “He was looking for an account of a border attack that doesn’t exist. I told him there’s no such record, but he came back three times, certain there was because he’d had family killed in the event. I recorded the request and sent it up my chain of command, thinking it would help him, but…” She shakes her head and drops her hands, blinking back tears.
“It’s not your fault,” I sign, but she doesn’t respond, and it hits me that I could have been hauled away by Markham last year, but I wasn’t. And there’s only one logical explanation. I glance around us quickly to make sure we’re still alone. “Last year, you didn’t record when I asked for a book that doesn’t exist in your records.”
Her eyes widen.
“Did you?” My hands tremble as I sign. Shit. This is a bad idea. She’ll be in danger if I bring her into this. But she’s also the best person who can help me find what I’m looking for, and we only have months.
“No.”
“Why?” I have to know. Everything hinges on her answer.
“At first, because I didn’t want to be embarrassed that I couldn’t find it.” Her nose scrunches. “Then because…I couldn’t find it.” She looks over her shoulder at the empty Archives. “We should have a copy of almost every tome in Navarre here, yet you told me you’d read one that we don’t have.”
I nod.
“And then I looked up wyvern.” She spells out the individual letters because there’s no sign for the winged creatures. “And nothing. We have no recorded folklore like what you read.”
“I know.” My heart thrums faster. We’re venturing into dangerous territory. Her brow knits under her hood. “If you were any other rider, I would have considered that you have a faulty memory and got the title wrong, or even the subject matter. But you’re…you.”
I sign slowly so she doesn’t miss a word. “The title wasn’t wrong. I found my copy.”
She takes a deep breath. “Which means our Archives are incomplete. There are books in existence we have no record of.”
“Yes.” And now we’re talking treason. I can’t tell her too much, not just for her own safety but in case…in case I’m wrong about her.
“I sent requests to other libraries looking for a wider collection of folklore, but the responses made it clear we have the most comprehensive selection.” Her forehead wrinkles in concern.
“Yes.” Gods, she’s catching on without me even having to tell her. “Does anyone know what you were doing?”
“I implied that it was a personal passion to collect forgotten folklore from the border regions.” She winces. “And then I implied that I was considering compiling a new tome as my third-year endeavor to graduate. I lied.” Her mouth tightens, and she drops her hands.
“I’m doing a lot of that lately.” Once I’m sure we’re still alone, I continue. “Have you recorded any that I’ve asked for this year?”
“No.”
Great Dunne. If she’s caught breaking regulation, she won’t just be denied the adept path; she’ll be expelled from the college—or worse. She’s already risking so much on my account, if she’s telling the truth.
“You’re looking for something. I knew it the second you lied about preparing for a debate.” She searches my eyes. “You’re a horrible liar, Violet.”
I laugh. “I’m working on it.”
“Can you tell me what you’re looking for? I won’t record your requests, not if you’re thinking the same thing I am.”
“Which is?”
“That our Archives are incomplete, either by ignorance…” She breathes deeply. “Or intention.”
“Helping me could hurt you.” My stomach sinks. “Get you killed. It’s not fair to bring you into something dangerous.”
“I can handle myself.” She lifts her chin, and her next gestures are sharp. “Tell me what you need.”
What can I tell her without endangering her further? Or risking our exposure? I have no idea if she’s capable of shielding Dain or any memory reader from her mind. So clearly nothing about battles or venin. But that’s not what I need, anyway. “I need the most comprehensive texts you have about how the First Six built the wards.”
“The wards?” Her eyes flare.
“Yes.” It’s the simplest request that could be messily explained by wanting to research how to strengthen our defenses…if she tells. “But no one can know I’m asking, that I’m researching. More than my life depends on it. The older the text, the better.”
She looks away for what feels like the longest minute of my life. She has every right to pause, to think, to realize just how badly this could go for both of us. This isn’t a slip of memory, simply forgetting to record a request from a friend. This betrays her quadrant, her training. Her eyes meet mine. “I can’t risk Aoife seeing right now, but I’ll find you this week with the first tome I’m thinking of. One is all I can risk going missing. Saturdays are usually the day I work the Archives, when it’s quiet. Bring it back then and I’ll give you another if the first doesn’t have what you need. Only Saturdays.” She lifts her brows as she signs those last two words.