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She drunkenly swirls around my head, her arms crossed over her chest and tiny face twisted in annoyance. “Hmph. Do I look like the Fae version of Alexa?”
“Please?” When she refuses to help me, I sigh and add, “In addition to my eternal gratitude, I’ll throw in a thimble-full of brambleberry wine.”
Her eyes brighten, and I know I’ve won.
My footsteps ring hollow against the wood-paneled walls as I follow her through the corridors to a stairwell. After plunging ten stories, at least, we’re greeted by a locked gate. She waves her fingers over the lock and it springs open.
Man, that lock-picking magic would have come in handy in my other life.
On the other side of the gate is a collection of the oldest books I’ve ever seen, housed in rows of tall metal bookshelves that look like they haven’t been touched in a thousand years. A copper chandelier resembling the clawing branches of a tree, complete with leaves of orange and red, hangs from the domed ceiling, providing a pittance of sputtering amber light.
Cobwebs and dust cover everything.
“Why would the library be down here?” I say, holding back a sneeze.
“This isn’t the student library,” answers Ruby. “This is the library for forbidden books.”
My gaze slides from the broken lock to Ruby. “We’re not supposed to be here, are we?”
She snorts. “My, aren’t you a clever one? What gave it away? The locked gate or the word ‘forbidden?’”
“Ruby, I need the library. You know, the place where we won’t get expelled for entering.”
“No,” she corrects smugly. “You need here. Assuming you still want to discover a way for Rhaegar to win the Nocturus?”
My eyes widen. How did she know that?
With a maniacal grin, she adds, “Unless you’re too scared to break a few rules, human?”
“Pfft.” I roll my eyes. “Where do we start?”
She swirls her hand in the air and a bright golden orb appears, floating just above her.
With my sprite lit up like a living flashlight, I search for the section labeled, Ceremonial Magic. A part of me wants to laugh at how different my life is now.
Three months ago, I was dead broke, desperate, and breaking into warehouses . . . now I’m still dead broke, desperate, and breaking into a library while using a tiny person as a flashlight.
I guess some things stay the same, after all.
When Ceremonial Magic proves to be a dead end—and also incredibly boring—I move on to Enhancing Your Power the Natural Way. Another dead end. The next section, The Forbidden Arts, is interesting only because I wonder why they don’t teach it in class—but it’s not helpful.
Ruby yawns above me, her little light bobbing as she wavers in the air. Afraid she’ll fall asleep midair and plummet to her death, I settle her on my shoulder and move on to the very last section.
A half hour later, with my sprite’s snores serenading me, I find a book without a spine covering. Curious, I pull the leather-bound tome from the shelf and search for a title. The front cover is missing, and the parchment feels as if it will crumble at the touch.
My heart leaps when I read the title page.
Histories of the Nocturus, from the Winter Wars until the Dark War.
“Gotcha.” I’m so excited that I fist pump the air, waking my sprite.
“What in the Fae hells?” she screeches. She nestles back on my shoulder, her eyes drifting closed . . . when they pop back open.
Alarm flickers across her face. “Do you smell that?”
The moment she mentions smell, my nose begins to pick up something. A fetid, dying odor. Like something dead is trapped beneath the floorboard. Except the rank odor is only growing stronger.
Ruby zips above my head, still sniffing the air. Then she hisses, “Deamhan,” and whips out a miniature dagger with a jeweled hilt. “Come meet your fate, deamhan!”
