Page 50 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
“Librarian Sila, you’re awake,” Lune says. It is as cold as I have ever heard her, any pretence at bedside manner entirely gone.
Sila smiles, and it’s one of her sharp toothed ones. “Cupbearer,” Sila says, greeting Lune with her title with equal ice. The use of Lune’s title is a clear warning.
Once there would have been a Cupbearer to tip the poison into Sila’s willing mouth before she stepped towards the altar. In all the years since its inception, the ritual of the sacrifice hasremained the same. Now, Lune was the Cupbearer to others like Sila. To each sacrifice that had walked to the altar in the past decade.
Lune’s jaw stiffens. “I’ll need to check your wounds,” she says, as if she’d rather crawl through the corpse of a cave mole.
“I know your tone is only because of your care for Lorel, and so I will let it pass,” Sila says. “You may inspect your handiwork.”
Neither of them thaw much. Lune’s jaw is set in a stubborn line and Sila observes her as she might watch the scriptorium on a dull morning. I perch on the end of the bed and watch on anxiously.
“You’re healing remarkably well,” Lune mutters, already able to pull out the thread she’d used to stitch Sila’s skin back together.
“The Library takes care of its own,” says Sila blandly. Lune has her roll onto her side so that she can inspect the whole of the wound. Lune’s frown persists.
“Does it now?” Lune says sharply. A chill prickles over my skin and I go very still.
“You are lucky to even be in this room, Cupbearer,” Sila says. The tone of her voice makes me want to hide in a closet until she’s gone.
Lune straightens, relinquishing Sila so that she can settle back against the pillows. Lune’s eyes pass over the room, littered with the debris of Sila’s long life. “You’re lucky I haven’t reported you for holding a scribe,” Lune snaps back. Sila narrows her eyes.
“How about we call a truce,” Sila says, watching Lune intently. “For Lorel’s sake.”
Lune sets her jaw. “Fine.”
“Besides, I have other concerns.” Sila’s eyes turn to me. “Like why the Lightkeepers are pursuing a scribe that happens to be a Dawnchild.”
Lune looks at me as well. “So you have told her,” she says. She looks conflicted. I wish she’d trust me in this.
Yes. I thought it had become relevant.
Sila reads my hand signs aloud for Lune’s benefit. Lune sighs deeply, rubbing her face with her hands.
“I know we don’t talk about this, but you know my thoughts on this. And with this last incident? You’re not safe here,” Lune says.
I catch the very slight upward tip of Sila’s eyebrows. “And what are your thoughts on this matter?” Sila asks.
I grit my teeth.
“That Lorel should leave,” Lune says. She’s set her jaw again, like she’s ready to settle in for a fight.
Sila narrows her eyes at Lune. “Leave the Library?”
“Leave the Citadel,” Lune says. “A scion of the Dawn King with no magic? These actions prove that he clearly had no intention of letting you go?—”
“Lorel isn’t without magic,” Sila says.
Lune looks quickly between the two of us. “What?”
But they don’t know that.
“No,” says Sila. “Which only adds more weight to the Cupbearer’s theory. To the Dawn King, you are a weakness.”
I stare at them both and think of what the Heart had said. That the words I would speak would mark the traitor’s downfall. There was only one being of equal standing to the Heart. Only the Dawn King. He is the traitor.
“No, what do you mean Lorel isn’t without magic?” Lune demands.
This is a mess.
