“Right after the Asteri arrived,” Athalar added, and Ruhn looked away from Lidia long enough to consider what was before them.
He said, “Well, despite its mists, Avallen clearly has had no problem revealing its shape and coastline to the Asteri for the empire’s official maps. Why hide the islands?”
“There are no islands,” Sathia said quietly. “The ones on that first map …” She pointed along the northwestern coast. “We sailed in from that direction. We didn’t see a single island. The mists could have obscured some of them, but we should have seen at least a few.”
“I’ve never seen or heard any mention of additional islands here,” Flynn agreed.
Silence fell, and they all glanced between the three maps as if they’d reveal some big secret.
Dec finally shook his head. Something happened here a long time ago—something big. But what?”
“And,” Lidia murmured, the cadence of her voice sending shivers of pleasure down Ruhn’s spine, “is this knowledge at all useful to us?”
Bryce tapped a hand on the oldest map, and Ruhn could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
“Silene said something in her memories about the island that had once been her court.” Bryce’s face took on a faraway look, as if she were trying to remember the exact words. “She said that the land … shriveled. That when she started to house those monsters to hide the Harp’s presence, the island of the Prison became barren. And the Ocean Queen said islands literally withered into the sea in despair when the Asteri arrived.”
“So?” Flynn asked.
Bryce’s gaze sharpened again. “It seems weird that two Fae strongholds, both islands, were once archipelagos, and then both lost all but the central island in the wake of the arrival of … unpleasant forces.”
Ruhn raised his eyebrows. “I can’t believe you actually told us what you were thinking, for once.”
Bryce flipped him off as Athalar snickered. She nodded decisively. “Team Archives: keep looking into this.”
The others dispersed again to resume their researching, but Bryce grabbed Ruhn by the elbow before he could move. “What?” he asked, glancing down at her grip.
Bryce’s look was resolute. “We don’t have the luxury of time.”
“I know,” Ruhn said. “We’ll search as quickly as we can.”
“A few days,” Bryce said, letting go of his arm. She glanced toward the sealed front doors of the archives, the island beyond. “I don’t think we have more than that before Morven decides it’s in his best interest to tell the Asteri we’re here, risks to his people be damned. Or before the Asteri’s mystics pinpoint our location.”
“Maybe the mists can keep out mystic eyes as well,” Ruhn suggested.
“Maybe, but I’d rather we not find out the hard way. A few days, Ruhn—then we’re out of here.”
“The caves could take longer than that to navigate,” Ruhn warned. “You sure there’s anything in there worth finding? As far as I could tell, it was some decorative crap on the walls and a lot of misty tunnels. We’d get through the archives way faster if we all tackled the catalog together.”
“I have to look at the caves,” Bryce said quietly. “Just in case.”
It hit him then, like a bucket of ice water. Bryce wasn’t entirely sure she could find anything to help her unite the blades. To kill the Asteri.
So Ruhn squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Bryce.”
She offered him a grim smile. It was all Ruhn could do to offer one back.
* * *
They found nothing else regarding the missing islands, the mists, or the sword and the knife in the hours they spent combing through the catalog. They’d barely made a dent in the collection by the time Bryce called it quits for dinner, her hands so achingly dry from all the dust that they burned.
In silence, the group walked to the castle dining room. What a long, fucking day. Each of their trudging steps seemed to echo the sentiment.
The dining room was empty, though a small buffet of food had been laid out for them.
“Guess we’re early,” Tharion said as the group surveyed the firelit room, its faded tapestries depicting long-ago Fae hunts. Their quarry lay at the center of one: a chained, collared white horse.
Bryce jolted. It wasn’t a horse. It was a winged horse.
So they’d survived here, then—at least for a few generations. Before they’d either died out or the Fae had hunted them to extinction.