Page 122 of Fortress of Ambrose
“You’ve been crying.” He rushed toward her.
But she stopped him. “Three things.”
“Alright,” he said.
“The dead want me to grow the toushana. I need to understand the risks. I need to know everything, the stuff nobody writes down.”
He nodded.
“And when you leave this room, I need you to find the last piece of the Immortality Scroll.”
“And three?” Yagrin asked.
“No conversation, and you will be gone when my maid arrives in the morning.”
The brown in Yagrin’s eyes deepened.
“You will spend the night here, with me.” It wasn’t what she needed. But it was all she could have.
So she would take it.
Forty-Nine
Yagrin
Yagrin propped up a book at the desk in Nore’s room and turned another page. He skimmed for mention of the fall of House Duncan in the lamplight, but there were only scant details, like the dozen other books he’d been reading for hours. He slammed the book closed and gazed over at Nore, who was still sleeping.
Outside the night sky began to brighten. He returned the book to the stack Nore retrieved from the family’s private library, buttoned up his coat, and pressed a kiss to Nore’s hand, which dangled over the side of the bed, before slipping out the door.
He’d spent the last four nights with her, up late searching after a passionate yet emotionless time together. And he’d had it. She still didn’t feel anything for him, from what he could tell, despite her eagerness to keep him in her bed. But hope flickered in his heart, because before drifting to sleep, she’d lie on his chest and ask him to stroke her hair like he used to do. It felt like they were frozen in time, on a never-ending loop. Yagrin had to break them out.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could look into the girl’s eyes who he loved and see no love there. Nore was planning to escape, but her plan had no teeth. Telling her that hadn’t gone over well. So he did as she asked, night after night, at the desk in her quarters. It was useless. Chasing down the last piece of the Scroll from a House that had beendecimated decades ago felt impossible. Finding it wasn’t the best way to save her life if it came to that—breaking the Pact was.
That’s where I should shift my focus.
He always trusted his gut. He needed to now. But that risked disappointing her, when she’d decided to keep him close and trust him.
He strode fast through the House, which whirred with the sounds of early morning, when an idea struck him. No matter what time it was, the halls of House Ambrose always had students lingering. He took a detour past the dining hall, the grand ballroom, a few smaller specialized libraries, and ascended the stairs toward the Caelum.
When he reached the highest floor, he noticed low-hanging clouds outside hugging the tall windows. His legs ached. But he hustled toward the library’s doors. It was the grandest place of books he’d ever seen, with sweeping views, a lounge full of desks, and endless walls of books. Stairs built into the walls zigzagged between shelves. There were gaps every several feet with large plaques engraved with a Priest’s name, birth- and death dates.Burying the dead inside.He grimaced as he climbed a set of stairs wedged between the history and medicinal sections. The second-floor shelves were more tightly knitted together. Finding a staircase required moving a few chairs. He climbed to the third floor and found that most areas were roped off. A clerk sat typing at a writing desk.
“Clearance?” She held out a hand, still typing with the other, not even looking up at him.
“I, um, am a guest of the Headmistress and am searching for texts on her behalf.”
He wasn’t sure it would work, but the House staff had been so accommodating thanks to Ainsley vouching for him. The Draguns had even stopped asking him questions. The clerk’s head swiveled in his direction. He could go wherever Nore went, it seemed. But the Caelum is where they drew the line.
“Headmistress will need to escort you. This area is restricted.”
Creaky stairs groaned in the walls. Yagrin couldn’t see where the noisewas coming from. This floor was cozy compared to the others, and each of the areas of books was sectioned into rooms. But he’d heard the priests’ offices were hidden up here.
“You may go.” She went back to typing. Yagrin’s irritation thrummed. But when he turned, he spotted a bushy-browed man in long robes, poking his head out of a door. Priest Winkel gestured for him to quietly hurry over, his gaze darting to the clerk, a mischievous smirk on his face. Winkel led him inside, and they tiptoed through adjoining rooms of texts until it dead-ended at a concrete door.
“Nore sent you, I heard you say? For what, may I ask?”
He knew Nore adored Winkel, but he wasn’t sure how much to trust him. “She wants to know more about the Immortality Scroll.”And I want to know more about breaking the Pact.
Winkel twirled his white beard around his finger. “You won’t find anything written down. What you need is a true library.” He tapped his temple and offered Yagrin a seat. That was the first time he really looked around, taking in the priest’s office. He wasn’t sure what he imagined it would look like. House of Perl was hardly religious, and they didn’t believe in the Sage and the Wielder, nor that they needed a priest to communicate with any god.
