Page 94 of Daughter Of The Ninth Line
The heaviness of the declaration sat between us like a mantle she didn’t know what to do with. She looked like a deer, caught in the sights of a hunter.
I leaned forward, brushing my lips across hers. “I can hear your mind overworking, Avie. There is no pressure for you to love me back like that. Not yet, anyway. I’m also okay that I might never be your all or nothing; I think I’ve proven I’m very good at sharing.”
Her cheeks turned scarlet, and Vox cleared his throat. “The First Line is aware of the Third Line’s belief in Soul Ties, Taeme. We’re aware of a lot of things. Like not only can you command your beasts, but you can converse with them. It’s what makes them amazing spies. You can also see through their eyes.”
I froze at that last one—that was another tightly kept secret. What else did the First Line know? Did they know we could shift?
Avalon was tense in my arms. “Soul Tie? Those are the right words?”
I couldn’t decipher the expression on her face. Why was she suddenly so pale? “Yes. It’s kind of like soulmates, but more. Our souls are tied together.” I squeezed her tighter. “Avie, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard that term before. In my dreams.”
What the hell did that mean?
Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask, because the Librarian reappeared, a stack of books in her arms. Vox raised an eyebrow. “You retrieved all these books this quickly?”
The Librarian sniffed. “It’s my job to know what the inhabitants of Boellium might need, before they even know they need it themselves.” She laid the books gently on the table between us. “The library in Boellium has been here for a very long time. Long before this was a war college. Long before the Line system. Some say even before Ebrus was named. It has its own magic, older and stronger than many would give it credit for. I belong to the library, not to the college.”
With that, she left. That was super fucking weird, but okay. No wonder the Librarian freaked Avalon out.
Vox sat at the table, shifting Avalon until she was pressed beside us both. He ran his fingers down the spines in front of us. There were general titles, likeGenealogical Lines of Ebrus, Magic on the Continent, and evenThe Story of the Goddess, which was a children’s book parents read to their kids before bed. But also there were more specific histories of the Ninth Line, even though that wasn’t what we’d asked for.
Did the libraryknowthat’s what we wanted? Or did the Librarian know more than she was letting on?
I found my fingers drawn to an older history, the dark-green leather spine cracked, and the embossing worn. It was familiar in a way that I didn’t understand. Had I seen it before? I pulled it toward myself and opened it.
An envelope fell out, addressed to the library at the Hall of Ebrus. It was stamped on a date we all knew far too well. The day the First Line had grabbed power, assassinating the entirety of the Second Line in a coup that echoed through the history of Ebrus. We’d all fallen into line after that. None were strong enough to stand against the First Line.
As I opened the envelope, a single sheet of paper fell out. Something about the gently curled script was also familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I’d seen it before.
The Ninth. The Ninth. The Ninth.
What did that even mean? The words reverberated through my head, like the knelling of a bell.
Setting it to the side, I looked at the book in my hand. It had a family tree scrawled by hand inside the cover, the different branches spreading across two pages. Someone must have been filling it in, because Avalon’s name was there, beside her siblings.
Flicking through the pages, I skimmed the text about her ancestors, their powers, and anecdotes of their deeds, both good and bad. Whoever had written and maintained this book didn’t pull their punches either. Stutgord Halhed’s gambling addiction and eventual hanging was written about, right below Reginald Halhed’s heroics in the Battle of The Coast against the Vylans of Fortaare.
This was before the Baronies had been assigned Line numbers, before we’d become a cohesive, governed country, back when there were borders and squabbles over land. There were accounts on how strong the Halhed family’s precognition abilities were, how their foresight had won battles and filled their coffers.
There were pages and pages of much the same thing, following the timeline of the country from when democracy had come to Ebrus, the end of wars between families.
And then something changed. The Ninth Line, known for producing only sons, had a daughter. Ellanora Halhed. The Jewel of Rewill. The First Daughter of the Ninth Line.
She had pages dedicated to her. About her power, which surpassed that of her ancestors. About her suitors and her predictions. Her disappearance. The speculation over her death.
I looked back at the note that had fallen out of the front of the book. The date in the corner was months after her supposed death, no return address, just the name ‘Ellanora Halhed’in cursive.
My brain went round and round in circles, and I didn’t realize I’d dragged Avalon back onto my lap and was rubbing my cheek reflexively on her arm until she buried her fingers in my hair, scraping her nails gently against my scalp.
“What did you find?” she asked softly.
I pushed the book in front of her. “Just that your ancestor disappeared, then sent a letter to the one place guaranteed to survive the First Line coup, months after she was gone. My gut says it’s important.”
The Ninth. The First Daughter of the Ninth Line.
I flicked back to the family tree, following the branches down, finding all the daughters until I got to Avalon. The Ninth Daughter of the Ninth Line. That had to mean something.
