Page 71 of The Court of Truth

BRODY

Dark magic. Dark magic. Dark magic.

Two words that were burned into my brain. Two words I swear are going to end up on my damn tombstone if I don’t get it together. Two words that are the key to the next step in protecting the kingdom, and I can’t find them anywhere.

What is the Mage’s library even for if not this kind of thing? I’ve checked every damn row of books three times, and here I am, trying again for the fourth pass in hopes of finding something.

There’s no way in Hell I’m going home without it. It’s here, I know it is, it has to be, butwhere?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhale slowly before taking in a few rounds of deep breaths to calm myself down. I’m exhausted beyond words, but sleep is for the weak. I spent all of last night hunting for the thorn in the kingdom’s side, Clementine, but neither hide nor hair. I just know there’s a lead, or at least some answers, on one of these shelves, there has to be.

I’ve been here for hours. It’s not fun. Not even a little bit.

Every time I come up empty handed, a pit grows in my stomach.

What if it’s not here because my father already has it?

Fuck.

I’m not supposed to be letting my mind wander and think the worst, but it’s impossible not to. My father, my own flesh and blood, was just as bad as the rest of The Council, and now, to top it all off, he’s off with Clementine and her followers. Sure, she broke him out of the council cells, but that’s beside the point. Why wasn’t I produced by someone who had even an inkling of compassion or selflessness?

Instead, I’m worried my father is one step ahead and already has the golden knowledge I’m searching for.

Cracking my neck from side to side, I take another deep breath before I lift my gaze and glance over the spines of the books in front of me.

Some are old, some are new. Most are worn, bound in leather, tattered and torn, on the brink of being lost forever.

Golden, ridged titles merge one into the next as I trace my fingers over them, noting that the embossing has worn thin on many of them, hoping it will help my focus as I desperately search.

It’s so quiet in here that when the soft click of the door sounds on the other side of the room, it echoes around the space, confirming that I’m no longer alone. It’s not the first time someone’s come in here and it won’t be the last. If they just stick to what they’re doing and leave me be, then everything will be fine. I don’t need a distraction right now, not a single?—

“Master Orenda, what a delight to see you here again.”

There goes my distraction.

“Mage Morgan, it’s a pleasure,” I murmur, not tearing my gaze from the man that stands an inch too close to me every time I see him.

I met him years ago when I was a kid, but he quickly made his presence known when we reported to Glacial Lake after the attack and he has a way of finding me every time I’m here. It’s like he has a tracking device on me or something.

“What brings you here, Master? When you left the other day, you predicted it would be at least another week, possibly two, before you returned.”

Dropping my hand from the spines in front of me, I turn to Morgan with a sigh. “I’ve told you, please, call me Brody.”

“But you are the Master of the Mages, it would be rude to not address you as so. Besides, that’s how?—”

“If you’re going to finish that sentence by mentioning my father, I’d advise you to stop there, Morgan. It’s not a comparison I consider a compliment. I am not him. I am not particular about how people address one another. My sole purpose is to help the mages thrive, among one another and the kingdom alike. My title doesn’t change that.”

He assesses me, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head to the side. I feel like I’m under a magnifying glass every time he does this. And when I say every time, I meaneverytime he sees me he does the same thing. Like he’s waiting for all of my deep, dark secrets to trickle out between us so he can really get to know me. That’s not going to happen, but even if it did, there wouldn’t be anything to delve into that I’m ashamed of or embarrassed by.

“Sir, what has you here again so soon?” he asks, ignoring everything I said, but thankfully calling me Sir instead of Master, so we’ll take it as progress.

His question, on the other hand, leaves me somewhat unnerved because I don’t know how to answer him. With the truth? That I’m hoping to find guidance among these shelves. Or do I lie and eliminate any chance that he might offer to help and potentially save me an infinite amount of time spent scouring through these books.

The former option sounds like the best idea, but I need to understand who I’m dealing with before I commit to such a decision. If my father’s actions taught me anything, it was to never trust anyone. He proved it when he abandoned the kingdom and the rightful queen. Not how I would have preferred to learn that particular lesson, but mission accomplished all the same.

“Mage Morgan, how close were you to my father?”

He freezes, his eyelids twitch, and the smallest hint of his nostrils flaring gives me my answer before he even speaks. “Sir, I don’t think the topic of your father will serve you well in Glacial Lake,” he admits, the truth falling from his lips surprising me.

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