Page 121 of Keldori By Daybreak

She backed out of the circular room, and the marble door raised from the floor to slam shut.

“Grab the journal, and get out,” Ciarán barked in my head. “We’ll meet you at the bridge outside.”

“Right. Iseult, grab the book,” I commanded, but Iseult had already removed the glass case and was shoving the journal into her pack.

“What are you doing?” Orla hissed. “We can’t steal precious documents!”

“She’s a Lyrian, but so am I,” Iseult said. “I have just as much a right to Lady Lyria’s possessions as she does, and she never should’ve taken them from Tulyr in the first place.”

“The others are outside,” I said, turning back to the door. “If we hurry, we—”

I stopped, staring at the smooth face of the wall-like door. There was no handle, no lever, no indication of how to open it.

“Move.” Iseult shoved me aside to slam her hands against the door. “She locked us in. Why would she lock us in?”

“Maybe she figured we’d try to steal the journal?” Orla suggested. “She wasn’t wrong, if that’s the case.”

“Get out of there,” Ciarán said in my head. “Now!”

“Well, gee!” I snarled back. “If only there were a door for us to leave through!”

“Would you drop the sarcasm for once and listen to me? If you can’t find a way out, then make one. She’s not worried about you stealing. She’s turning you in.”

26. Museology

Dammit.

Ciarán was probably right.

Magick lit in my hands, but the blue fire did nothing against the stone of the door.

“Retinas,” Ciarán hissed. I blinked a retina guard into existence over my eyes, turning the room blue. “Check for hinges. That’s where doors are weakest.”

“Wren?” Orla asked, backing away from my swirling fire.

I scanned the doorframe, holding my flame aloft to better survey the ridges of stone.

“No hinges,” I reported back to Ciarán, and then remembered, “The door raises up and down out of the floor.”

“Then be ready, Blue. That door will open again, and who knows who Caitria will have waiting on the other side.”

“Lysanor’s getting the guards,” I said out loud.

Orla and Iseult exchanged a glance, and then Orla snapped her newly purchased goggles into place over her eyes while Iseult climbed up to steal the helm from Lady Lyria’s armor.

She left the journal on the counter as she did so, and an idea occurred to me.

“If you create a Nightmare, do you decide where they appear?” I asked Ciarán.

“More or less.”

“And what sort of range do you have?”

“It depends.”

“My mom. Summon her to me.”

“She’s a Saergrim. It’s not—”