Page 10

“It’s done.” I cracked open an eye as the Nomad lifted me and carried me to the cabinet, and he pulled my hand, which was still wrapped around the amulet, crashing onto the top of the glass. Without the wards, I was sure the glass would have shattered with the force of his strength.

The loosening wards fogged the glass, and then the lid clicked open.

I tried to focus. The blazing pain had lessened to a stabbing headache, and I dropped the amulet and pressed my fingers into the pressure points on my temples. I didn’t have time to be weak.

Breathe.

Not for the first time, I wished it really was Aster with me. “What was that?”

“You did this to yourself. Now. Take. It. Out,” he demanded.

We were so close that the sound of Aster’s voice soothed me when it shouldn’t have. My hopes and desires had a stranglehold on me. When I didn’t move, he grabbed the back of my neck, his index finger pressing into the base of my skull.

“Now.”

The cloth of his veil was cool against my skin, and my shoulder caught fire. There was no doubt—the Nomad was a danger to me.

“Stop it.” I tried to pull away, but his hand was a vice on my neck, and my head still hadn’t cleared. His grip faltered as if he were battling with himself. Then it tightened again, and this time it was harder than before.

“I’m done. You have the case open. Get it yourself.” My voice was hoarse but defiant.

He didn’t say anything; instead, his hand shifted to my throat and twisted so that it reached my windpipe. I knew the move well—Aster had taught it to me. Exactly like that. I wondered if he had a knife pointed at my kidney.

Squawk!

That was all it took to snap me into action. Where was the pin? It was time to do what was needed to get rid of the Nomad, find Ember and Thorn, and get the codex to the Fairground Manager. Craven City was getting more dangerous by the second, and the Nomad Rider standing with his hand around my neck was the embodiment of that danger.

I rolled my shoulders and then relaxed them, running through the movements needed to get myself out of the mess I had created.

“Very well,” I said softly.

If my change in attitude surprised the Nomad, he didn’t mention it. He released me, and I reached my hand into the cabinet toward the books. Perhaps he didn’t want to touch anything because he thought he could be tracked.

There were four leather-bound books in the case, all cracked with age. One had a gold phoenix etched on the front, and another a silver phoenix emblem. As my fingers brushed over the worn leather, a shot of heat prickled up my arm. The night had just got a lot worse.

“As I told you. It’s damaged; it’s of no use.” I was counting on the damage so that no one could read it apart from me.

“It’ll tell me what I need.” He nudged me. “Pick it up.” He pointed to the gold phoenix emblem.

A knowing smile tugged at my lips. “No, it won’t. There is no book magic left.”

He didn’t seem bothered, which told me he had no idea what book magic was, or he had a way to mend the book and get the magic back. I opened the first page, and only eight or nine words on the whole page were visible.

“This happens when the scribe’s magic has been ripped out.”

“Take it.” Maybe I imagined it, but I was sure his shoulders slumped for a second, and while he looked defeated, a plan was forming in my mind. In the corner of the cabinet was the little book I had seen a number of times before—a book that almost called to me. It was worn, with rounded edges as if someone had carried it around with them day and night. This time it hummed more as if it worried I might never come back for it again. Reaching out for it, I ran a finger down its spine, trying to soothe it or me. We’ll get out of here. If I could get free, I would free this book too.

Each of the books had a padded silk sleeve under them, so I placed a large codex and the little book inside their designated book sleeves and then put them in my bag. When my fingertips brushed over the other book with the silver emblem, I came up with another plan. If the Nomad wanted the book and I needed one to trade, then the extra book could be used as a decoy for the fairground manager or the Nomad.

I had been vague when describing the codex to the rebels, but they knew it held a phoenix emblem on the front. And there were only a few books in the archive of that description. Did the Fairground Manager know that detail? Could he mend the broken book and read ancient Annatalian? I was betting on the fact that he couldn’t. Because if he did, and I handed over the wrong book, then this night would get even worse very quickly.

6

I stood by the gate of room eight and looked out. There was a Tracker walking up and down the archive corridor, pressing his hand to each door and muttering as if he were talking to the door.

“The library will open to him, eventually. No matter how fond this book magic seems to be of you, it can’t ignore the demands of a Phoenix or its Rider. They’ll only delay folding to the command. These places were built for the Skyworld scribes.”

“I suppose you’ve another plan…”