Page 125 of The Bond That Burns

Yet here I was. Did I have some kind of death wish?

The answer, irritatingly, was no. I wanted to live. Needed to live. Not just for Aenia, but for Pendragon. She might have left my tower, but she was still my anchor. My reason for not burning this whole place to the damn ground.

Because the more time that went on, the less I seemed to care about the things a typical highblood should care about. Status. Privilege. Wealth. Power.

I’d been floating through my life, like an actor saying lines. Never really meaning them.

Until she came along.

I reached the tall doors leading to Viktor’s office and hesitated for a moment, pressing my ear against the wood. Silence. Guards weren’t permitted inside. I knew my uncle was absent. He wasoff attending a gala hosted by some of his allies in a very posh inn somewhere in Veilmar. I’d snuck a look at his agenda the other day when I’d come to give him an update–leaving out everything that really mattered, of course.

I pushed open the doors. Viktor’s desk sat like a throne off at the far end of the room. I skirted the edge of the chamber, moving towards the smaller door hidden in shadows along the opposite wall.

With a deep breath, I pulled out a thin knife and knelt down outside the door. My fingers were shaking as I worked the lock. The tool felt clumsy in my hand. Ask me to break some bones and I’d have no problem. But this was delicate work. My hands still felt wrong—too hot, too tight, as if my skin didn’t belong to me anymore. It wasn’t just physical pain. This was like an itch at the back of my mind, as if something or someone lurked there, waiting for my acknowledgement.

Eventually, however, there was a satisfying click. The door swung open.

I was in.

A blast of cold air hit me from inside the archives, carrying the scent of old paper. Shelves stretched in every direction, crammed with scrolls and books that looked older than I was.

I lit one of the lamps on the wall, then froze as I took it all in. So, I was here. Now what? It was quickly obvious someone could spend days in the room without turning up the information they were looking for. I wasn’t an archivist or a librarian. What hope did I have?

The faintest scuffle broke the silence.

I whirled around, my hand already on the sword sheathed at my hip. “Who’s there?”

Nothing.

Then, from behind the shadows of a nearby shelf, a furry head emerged.

“Neville!” I let out the breath I’d been holding as the fluffin padded into the torchlight, his huge glowing eyes fixed on me with an expression that looked almost smug. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were with Florence.”

Not to mention Pendragon. I’d heard Kage had put the two girls together. I felt a pang in my chest. Pendragon must have loved that. Kage had done something to make her truly happy. So why did that make me want to punch his lights out?

The fluffin hopped closer to me, his large tail flicking back and forth. He looked far too pleased with himself, as if sneaking into the Black Keep was all part of some grand adventure that he’d planned.

“You were following me the entire time, weren’t you?” I muttered. “Some stealthy thief I am. Unbelievable.”

Neville gave a soft little yip, his wide eyes still fixed on mine. I couldn’t if he was here to mock me or to offer moral support.

I crouched down and rubbed his head. “You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute. Fine. Stay quiet and don’t touch anything. If Viktor finds us here, he’ll probably eat you.”

Neville cocked his head, clearly unimpressed by my threat.

I started working my way methodically through the shelves, running my fingers over the spines of volume after volume,scanning their titles in the feeble light. After an hour, I had a tall stack of books piled on a table. But when I flipped through them, none contained what I was looking for.

I told myself it didn’t matter. I’d come back. Again and again if I had to. The answers were here. I’d find them even if it killed me.

I went back to the stacks. The hours dragged on. Dust coated my hands and stuck to my palms. My head ached from reading snippets of ancient Drakharrow genealogies–endless records of deaths, marriages, births, and tedious disputes over bloodlines and borders.

Nothing on dragons. Nothing about what was happening to me.

I rubbed my temples, sighing with frustration, and reached for another dusty volume. The sound of small claws skittering on stone made me pause. I looked around and realized the fluffin was gone.

“Neville?”

I walked up and down the rows of shelves, scanning for any sign of the little creature. “Now is not the time for hide-and-seek, you little...”

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