Page 80 of A Sin So Pure

No, that doesn’t do it justice.

The right word escapes me as we step onto a small landing that overlooks a vertical tunnel carved into the mountain stone. It stands maybe fifty feet wide and five stories tall, with three going up and two going down from our vantage point.

At the top of the cavern is a massive, pointed skylight. Made of large panes of stained glass, it paints a rainbow of colors across the neutral-toned stone canvas. Below, the bottom of the circular cavern hosts a few round tables. A handful of fae sit there, studying next to piles of thick tomes. Behind them, rows of bookshelves continue under the cover of the lowest level.

My head shakes at the sheer size of the place.

“How?” I whisper.

“Generations of stubborn Royals committed to their contingency plans,” Silas quips from my side. “Myself included.”

He leaves it at that and leans his back against the railing, arms crossed. The position makes him look like a puffed-up cat, with the fur-lined coat collar pushed up to his chin.

Part of me has the sudden urge to push him over the ledge.

Would he shadow-walk himself to safety? Or would he spread his wings and glide down to the lowest level?

Maybe he’d simply fall to his death.

Silas studies me studying him, the corner of his rose-colored lips twitching up.

“Come,” he says, pushing off from the ledge. “I’ll show you to your room. Your bag will be there already.”

We turn towards the stairs and climb up the stone spiral. My blood unfreezes, and warmth seeps back into my flesh. I unbutton my coat, shuck it off my shoulders, and tuck it over my forearm.

“Everything better be as I packed it,” I mumble under my breath.

“Wrath may be thorough, but he isn’t a thief,” Silas chirps in front of me.

We climb past the first level, then the second.

“Will we be seeing much of him during this trip?”

“He is integral to what I have planned for us, so prepare yourself to be in his presence more than you’re used to,” Silas says. He peers over his shoulder with a glint in his obsidian eyes. “Robbie really is much nicer than he seems. We’ll get some liquor in him, and he’ll loosen up.”

I blink.

Is that Wrath’s name?

I imagined him as more of a Bartholomew, or something equally stuffy.Robbieis a child’s name.

“I didn’t come here to drink and make friends,” I say.

Silas tuts, “Don’t be such a grouch, Nora.”

We crest the third landing, turning down a narrow hall. It’s lined with burning torches, rather than electric sconces, which cast the space in flickering shades of amber.

I guess they can’t fit an entire mountain with electricity.

We stop in front of a wooden door, carved with swirling lines that knot together in symmetrical patterns.

Silas shucks his jacket off, revealing a sharp pin-striped charcoal suit. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a metal key, holding it out to me.

“This one is yours. I’m next door and Wrath is one past mine,” he says, pointing down the curved hall.

I take the key and our fingers brush, though they’re both covered in winter gloves. He doesn’t flinch. He simply lowers his hand back to his side, unfazed.

“Get settled, then meet us at noon for a debrief in the library. It’s on the bottom level with the big green doors,” he says. “You can’t miss it. But even if you do, each floor is a circle, so you can keep walking till you pass it again.”

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