Page 82 of Oracle of Ruin

Blaine groans. “There’s so much shit in here, I forget what we’re even looking for.”

“Anything on blessed weapons.”

“It’s just a figure of speech.” The former captain throws his hands in the air and I drown out the rest of his irate response.

The room is dim, lit only by torches and a single window. I forgo my search in the bookshelf and approach that window, a shiver creeping up the back of my neck. With careful hands, I push the glass panes open and jump as they creak.

A cool, fall breeze caresses my skin and prickles gooseflesh across my exposed forearms. I dare to lean out a little further and drop my gaze to the ground. A tall and withered tree stands near the base of the palace, dried and dead wisteria vines climbing the stone near the roots. Branches reach skyward, save for the portion of the tree closest to the window—the dead portion the size of a small child.

My heart hammers in my chest. The drop must be at least twenty feet and she was only a child…

A heavy hand settles on my shoulder and I jump. Blaine grimaces when he traces my gaze to the ground below and quickly shuts the window.

We both take to sorting through Irene’s desk drawers together. I rifle through papers then pass them his way, allowing him to check for anything my tired eyes might have missed. I pretend I cannot feel the gentle caress of the wind on my neck, nor the way that window beckons me to come and lean out just a bit further.

“You were the one who found her that morning, right?”

“I was.”

“Was she…”

“I thought she was dead,” the Vari man answers honestly. “She was so small and her skin was so blue. Her eyes had frozen over and the frostbite stole most of the flesh on her fingers. The healers said if she wasn’t a pureblood, she wouldn’t have survived and even then, it was a miracle. None of us knew she was a mage at that point.”

I inhale sharply and take another step away from the window. “Was that the only instance like that?”

Blaine’s eyes darken and he unconsciously rubs at his aching leg. Vera told me some of her history with Irene, but we all know there’s more that happened between her and Irene than anyone will ever know. Some things are too terrible to utter and risk it reentering the universe. Blaine is my only link to her childhood, and her only savior in those times.

“No.”

“I found it!” Amír’s strong voice breaks through the silence. A wad of papers crumple in her fist that she hoists in the air before folding it and placing it in the satchel she carries. We nod towards the gunslinger and make for the door when a low rumble shakes the foundations of the palace.

“Still not earthquake season,” she whispers.

Not a moment later, dust and rubble falls in the hall, the stones of the floor beginning to crack. The door to the study snaps shut and the rumbling within the room ceases.

The three of us share a single glance and thought. The room has been left untouched, not because it has been frozen in time, but frozen in dark magic. Irene was powerful enough to cast a spell of this magnitude and have it live over ten years after her death.

We wait a few moments before Amír opens the door again to find the hall has completely caved in. Small stones clatter at her feet. She promptly picks one up and throws it at the wall of rock. Blaine lifts her away by the waist and slams the door shut as the larger stones begin to fall her way.

“Well that was helpful,” he deadpans when she smacks his arm.

“It’s no use, we will have to go out the window,” she elaborates when Blaine and I both stiffen. “I packed picks to jam in the stones just in case we had to scale the wall to get in. We aren’t jumping, so you two just need to pretend this is any other window for the two minutes it will take to get down, okay?”

This challenge proves to be easier said than done as I wedge the first pick into the stone. My shoulders groan as I lower myself with only the strength of my upper body. I drop an arm lower to place the next pick and it slips out of the crevice, leaving me hanging from the wall by one arm.

A small stone hits Amír in the forehead and she looks up to glare at me.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry,” she mimics my tenebrous voice. “Laei.”

Blaine seems to fare far better than I am as he lowers himself above me until we are next to each other on the wall. On my second try, the pick holds and I lower myself a few feet lower. We are nearly halfway down the crumbling stone now.

“Tired?” he jests, even though I can see the sweat beading along his brow.

I grin through gritted teeth and quickly lower myself again. “Never. You?”

“I could do this all day.”

---