Page 60 of Enthralled

We reach the library stairs, and here the Noswraiths abruptly thin out. They are still reluctant to go anywhere near the site of their former imprisonment. We hasten up to the top floor of the library and step into the open space beneath the crystal dome. It’s strange to pass through that doorway and feel some measure of safety. What used to be the most dangerous place in all Vespre—possibly in all the worlds—has become our unexpected haven.

Mixael and I stand on either side of the door, pens at the ready, until each member of our party is through. Then we shut the door fast and drop the bolt. “Go,” Mixael says, turning to me. “Help the Prince. I’ll stand guard.”

I open my mouth to answer, but it’s Khas who speaks instead. “No,” she says, reaching out to take his hand. “You come, Mixael.”

He lifts his blue eyes to hers, soft and yet fixed with resolve. “Khas, my love, you must carry our son through the gate. You must be the warrior Sor needs.”

She nods, her jaw firm, her expression fierce. “Yes,” she says, “and you will come with us.” She looks in that moment as though she will sling her husband over her powerful shoulders and carry him away with her.

But Mixael shakes his head. “I am the last librarian of Vespre,” he says. “It is not a role I sought, but one to which I was born. I cannot abandon the people of Vespre. I cannot abandon the library.” He draws a steadying breath. “I will remain until every last Noswraith is bound once more or I will die in the attempt, as befits a Vespre librarian.”

A low growl rumbles in Khas’s throat. “Then I will remain with you.”

“No, Khas. I’ll guard your retreat, but I cannot protect any of these others where you are going. They will need you. Sor will need you.”

For a moment I fear Khas will fight him, that she will stand her ground and utterly refuse. And what could Mixael or I or anyone do to persuade her otherwise? But Mixael is right, and she knows it. Wherever the troll refugees end up, they will not be received with warm welcomes. They will need whatever protection they can get, and no one is better suited to that role than Captain Khas.

She bends her head and kisses her husband. I have to turn away for fear the sight will bring me to tears. I cannot afford tears. Not now. Not yet.

“Grakol-dura,ghorza,”Khas says, drawing back from Mixael, the words rumbling harsh in her throat.

He smiles, touches her cheek. “My shining diamond,” he says. Then he kisses his weeping son, their two red heads momentarily blended under the starlight. “Now go,” he urges his wife. “Go quickly! Lead the others.”

Khas wrenches away and marches across the upper floor of the library to where the rest of our small party already gathers outside Castien’s office. Mixael turns to me then and nods. “Help the Prince,” he says. “I’ll stand guard.”

I nod. “Give a shout if you need me.”

He flashes a roguish grin, which momentarily transforms his face back to the young man I first met upon my arrival in Vespre. “Consider my next bloodcurdling scream your official invitation.”

With a quick salute of my pen, I turn and hasten across the upper floor. The family groups have gathered into clusters, surviving parents holding their children tight. The orphans cling to Lir and Anj and my own grown children, but they do not weep. They are too stricken for tears. Everyone stands as still as the stone from which troll myth claims they were born. I feel as though I’m weaving through a cemetery as I make my way to my husband.

Castien stands in a little clear space before the door, which is open to reveal the messy room on the far side. For an instant I let my memory return to the stolen time we shared together there, and my skin burns with warmth. But there’s no time to dwell on such pleasures. Castien holds out both hands, his fingers moving in a pattern I don’t understand as he summons magic. I feel the flow of energy answering his call and feel how he directs it into that empty space beneath the doorframe. The air ripples, shifts, the same phenomenon I’ve witnessed beneath the great Between Gate arches. But something isn’t right. There’s resistance.

I turn to Castien. He looks strained. He’s expending a tremendous amount of energy, and his wellspring isn’t limitless. As the trueborn King of Aurelis, he was endowed with great power at the moment of his father’s death, but that power is also linked to Aurelis itself, and he is far from his kingdom now.

Finally Castien utters a little curse that might be a prayer. I catch my breath, peering into the whirling space under the door once more. “Did it work?” I ask, uncertain. To my eye, it looks like an ordinary doorway; I can no longer detect the ripple of realities.

“It’s been so long, and the connection is strained,” Castien says, shaking his head. “We need someone on the other side to come through first in order to establish the opening.”

My heart sinks. “It’s hopeless then,” I whisper. There’s no one left on the far side of this gate who could possibly help, no one left who cares for Vespre or its people.

But Castien casts me a glittering smile. “Not so hopeless, Darling. I do still have friends in Aurelis.”

“Who?”

A sudden surge of energy beneath the doorway draws my gaze. Bursts of golden light, like dawnlight pulled directly from Aurelis, shoot in stray beams from across the worlds, illuminating the library gloom. The trolls gasp and shield their sensitive eyes. I hold up a shading hand as well, but peer through my fingers into that swirling vortex.

A silhouette appears. The perspective is strange, making it seem both impossibly far away and simultaneously as though the figure stands in Castien’s office, right in front of his desk. It walks toward us, closer, closer, hazy and warped as though seen through rippling veils. My heart lurches, and I grip my quill and book, half-convinced it’s a Noswraith speeding toward us.

Then the figure steps out through the doorway—a man in a well-tailored household uniform, gloves on his hands, his hair slicked back from his plain, freckled face. He looks mildly around at the huddled trolls, at me with my pen, and brings his gaze at last to the Prince. “You summoned me, sir?”

Castien steps forward and claps his Obligate on the shoulder. “Good man, Lawrence! I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“I do endeavor to oblige,” Lawrence responds with a hint of a smile.

“There’s no time to lose.” Castien indicates the gathered refugees. “We’ve got to get these folk through to Aurelis. What will they find on the other side?”

“Better than Noswraiths but not by much,” Lawrence admits solemnly. “Princess Estrilde has taken over rule of Aurelis. She does not, however, pay much mind to the goings on in the library. Your friends’ arrival will not be immediately discovered.”

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