Page 17 of Court of Bone and Amethyst

Bookshelves constructed of rich, gleaming wood stretch floor to ceiling on either side of the room. Rolling ladders provide access to the higher shelves. In the center of the space stands a huge table, ornately carved across the surface and legs with symbols that look strange and ancient. Several cushioned chairs are dotted throughout. I stare at it all in awe, breathing in the musty air which smells of paper and ink and leather. It seems to hold a faint golden shimmer, which I tell myself is just the light from the candles.

I can feel Zyren’s eyes heavy upon mine as I begin to move forward into my mother’s library. After not knowing the truth ofmy origin my whole life, now I am here, walking the halls of my ancestors. It feels as if they’re whispering to me, and a shiver moves over my skin, tickling along my collarbone. My feet lead me to the bookshelf on the left, where my fingers graze over the thick leather covers of the books. Strangely, they have no dust on them.

“With your permission, Sarielle, Merla and I will begin looking for a spell that might aid us,” Owyn says from somewhere behind me.

“Of course,” I say softly.

“I will look, too,” Zyren says. He is much closer, hovering practically at my shoulder. “I won’t be far.”

I’m not sure if his words are supposed to be soothing or cautionary. Either way, the message is clear:Keep your emotions in check.

I ignore him and keep walking down the long row of books. I feel unsettled, like something is tugging inside my gut. But it’s not a feeling of sadness or anger, nothing he needs to worry about. It’s just an insistent, incessant pull, calling me forward, deeper into the library beneath the earth. I follow it until I reach the back wall, which, like the ceiling, is painted in one massive mural.

Pausing, my gaze roams the surface of the thing. It depicts a battle of light and dark. On the left side are the nightmares, painted in purples and grays and midnight hues. On the right side are the people of Valaron, the people who once lived in Aureon before the nightmare realm consumed their lands. A kaleidoscope of vibrant colors illuminates them, reds and golds and greens.

And then there is the clash in the middle.

It’s here that my fascination is drawn, the maelstrom of the two sides colliding together. Silver spears and shadow magic, golden bows and black flames, swords cutting through wingsand impaling scaled hearts, the red of both blood and fire. It is horrible and yet somehow beautiful, all the colors mixing, a rainbow of chaos. My eyes are drawn to two figures at the very center: a woman with long silver hair like mine, and a man with black hair, black eyes, and black wings. The female warrior, encased in silver armor, has her sword raised, pointed at the man’s heart, and he has his clawed hands outstretched, wrapping them both in a swirl of shadow. A death dance, the moment before they take each other’s life. Somehow intimate, their expressions serene.

The tug in my gut grows stronger.Pulse, pulse, pulse, like a heartbeat in my solar plexus. I notice there’s an amethyst set in the stone between them, sitting amidst the grayish paint that represents the shadow magic spiraling around the two figures. Just like the ones set in the doors to this room. I reach forward and trace my fingers across the cold stone. It gives slightly beneath my touch, shifting inward. And then, with a low, soft rumble, the stone parts and a narrow passageway opens.

I don’t hesitate. I step into the passage, which is illuminated by candles like the library.

And I stride forward, barely noticing or caring as the entrance to the passage slides shut again behind me.

Chapter Eleven

Zyren

I’ve just selecteda leather-bound tome from one of the upper shelves near the entrance to the library when I feel a shift in the air. Both a slight current that wasn’t there before, and a wash of magic from the back of the room.

I whip my head toward it, but I see nothing. The room looks exactly as it had before. The bookshelves undisturbed, the giant table empty but for a strange stone bowl in the center of it, the mural along the back wall an eerie reminder of our history. Owyn and Merla are still selecting books from shelves on the opposite side of the room, each now holding a large stack. Nothing seems to have changed.

Except that Sarielle is nowhere to be seen.

With a loud curse, I leap down from the ladder, landing in a crouch. Owyn and Merla spin around, eyes wide. I slap my book down on the table and stride for the far end of the room, where I’d last seen Sarielle heading. Perhaps there’s some cleverly concealed reading nook as libraries often have, and she’d merely stepped into that. But even as the thought moves through my head, I know it’s not true. I’d felt something. Unfamiliar magic.

I reach the mural and pace the length of it, checking each back corner for hidden doors. Footsteps behind me announce Owyn. I spin to face him.

“Do you know where she went?” I growl, shadows beginning to spin off me.

To his credit, he does not so much as flinch. “I do not. This is my first time in the library, too.”

“Convenient story,” I snarl. I can feel my eyes going black. “If she comes to harm because of your idea…”

“Are you implying I have something to do with Sarielle’s disappearance?” Owyn’s tone is maddeningly calm.

“Ido nottrust you.”

“And what have I done to earn such low regard?”

“I have not known you long enough for you to earn my opinion either way.” I glower down at him, though he isn’t much shorter than me. “And also that your story seems entirely too altruistic. You’ve waited here all this time for the heir of House Otreyas, who has now led you to the secret library you no doubt desired access to? The heir who now has vanished?”

Owyn raises his brows. “Haven’t you also dedicated your entire life to Sarielle?”

Another growl rumbles through me. “I am herguardian. That is entirely different.”

“Ahh. I see,” Owyn says, though something in his tone tells me he sees something very different than I do.

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