Page 16

The markets of Apante weren’t as famous as the Great Library—they weren’t called the Great Markets, after all—but they still far exceeded anything I’d ever seen.

Colors exploded from every stall, vendors shouting bargains and enticements in a joyful cacophony.

The noise hurt my ears, but there was so much life in it I forced myself forward.

For years, the only yelling I’d heard had been from pain.

Here, there was every other emotion on display—greed and pride, pleasure as customers inspected beautiful goods, good-natured bartering at every stall.

We had time to spare, since Prince Marcel would likely spend the day with the Librarians. Until he left tomorrow, we’d be unable to get an audience with them. We’d have to put in a request tomorrow, and if I was lucky, we’d be seen the same day.

One more day. Then we’d part ways.

There was a lovely deck holder that caught my eye.

The case was surrounded in delicate beading, with bright blue and reds forming a pattern.

It slotted along a belt that continued the same pattern, with sturdy leather that could fit all kinds of tinkering tools in addition to the deck.

It would do a much better job holding the pile of cards than my makeshift pouch, that much was for certain.

Raphael, of course, caught me looking.

“Should I thrall him into giving it to you?” he offered, humor in his eyes.

I forced us to continue on. “It’s pointless where I’m headed.” For more than one reason.

“So you have decided to join the Monastery.”

Was he joking? “I’m an exile,” I hissed, keeping my voice so quiet only his vampire hearing would pick up on it. “It’s not like I have any other option.”

There were three main powers in the Witch Kingdom.

The Crown, of course, set in Ulryne. The Great Library of Apante was another, because even outlawing seers didn’t diminish their power.

But the Monastery was different. Despite the name, it was really a network of churches that stretched throughout the kingdom.

It claimed all of Eurobis as its seat of power, since the gods, too, claimed all of the continent .

The Monastery would take in anyone on the condition they forsook the use of magic—criminal, pauper, princess.

All you had to do was devote yourself fully to the gods and forsake any use of magic.

Converts put their faith solely in the gods, and, supposedly, were rewarded for it eternally.

Since voids already lacked magic, they weren’t giving up as much.

But I’d also give up use of enchantments stored in cards.

“Surely you’ll miss the magic.”

I forced myself to still, hating how easily the vampire saw inside me. “Where I was before”—I avoided saying Greymere lest anyone accidentally eavesdropping pay closer attention—“I had no access to magic. This will hardly be a big adjustment.”

Except I loved the sensation of using magic. I had loved it even in the years I’d been forced to go without. I reveled in feeling it around me as we walked through the markets. The electric spires dancing over my skin when I cast a card felt like armor. Giving up that protection, after everything…

Still, I’d be safe. The Monastery allowed criminals to join because it stripped you of your identity, including any past sins, when you joined. You gave up all markers of individuality. Not just magic, but ostentatious displays of wealth like the beaded toolbelt.

“There are other options,” Raphael insisted.

I snorted and walked faster. Somehow, it was less fun to look at the wares available now that reality had sunk in.

No matter what I did, I’d never own any of them.

“What life could I have? I’ve missed my chance at any apprenticeship.

And I’d be living a life looking over my shoulder, waiting for them to throw me in the dungeons. Or worse.”

“You could continue with me. Come to my realm.”

I actually managed to laugh at that. It had to be a joke. “A human? Find sanctuary in the Vampire Kingdom?”

“It’s not so uncommon,” he said mildly.

“Because your kind use us as chattel,” I snapped. “Just a food source for any hungry vampire to drink from.”

“You wouldn’t be. If you came with me, I’d see to that.”

“And what power do you have to promise that?” I demanded.

Whoever Raphael was in the vampire world, he was expendable if he’d been sent into the heart of the Witch Kingdom alone.

Especially given the way he’d risked his life on his quest. I forced myself to dismiss the offer before it took root in me, like a weed.

I belonged among my own kind, at the Monastery.

Raphael didn’t answer, didn’t say a word arguing that I was wrong.

“It’s for the best.” I wasn’t sure why it sounded like I was trying to convince him, when it was the obvious truth.

My gaze tipped to the Monastery of Apante. From the market, I could see the bright white tower. It stood out in stark relief from the other colorful buildings that adorned the city.

It was the only place in the kingdom where a void could hold even a small measure of power .

Without power, you were nothing.

As predicted, Prince Marcel left the next morning.

Raphael and I watched from the shade of the forest outside the city where we’d camped.

Every inn seemed to be filled with visitors who had anticipated the prince’s arrival and wanted to get a glimpse of him, and the last thing I wanted was to find the one single room available and share it with Raphael.

That morning, three dozen horses and three golden stagecoaches exited the city gates. Once the echoes of their footsteps faded, we returned to the city. I placed my request with the administrators of the Great Library and returned in the evening for my appointment.

The sun was setting by the time we returned. A line wrapped around the building, promising a long wait despite any appointment.

“Will you tell me your question now?” I asked as we trudged slowly along. Apparently, having an appointment was just the first step in seeing the Librarians. “Or do you plan to get through the wards and ask for yourself?”

The ancient wards that guarded the Great Library wouldn’t be fooled by a little disguise magic.

It would’ve been nice if the Librarians shared whatever ancient magic let them bespell the building to block vampires from entering with the rest of Eurobis.

Perhaps the knowledge of how had been lost with the oracles.

Raphael sighed, as if having to rely on a human was such a heavy burden. Then he bent his towering frame down and whispered his question in my ear: “You’re going to ask precisely how one can gain possession of the Black Grimoire as soon as reasonably possible.”

His hot breath grazed the side of my face, and I blinked, barely able to process. I jerked back, desperate for some distance between us. “That’s your question? What does it even mean? The Black Grimoire doesn’t exist.”

The Black Grimoire was nothing but a myth.

It wasn’t even a common myth, so I remembered nothing but the barest facts: the book existed and could only be used by a special kind of witch not seen in ages.

That alone was enough to discount a tale—no witch had claim to an entire branch of magic.

Grimoires, books of magic, did exist, and were often passed between bloodlines of powerful witches.

Unlike cards, the magic in them couldn’t be used by voids, and was more instructional than transactional.

What would possess a vampire to ask about a fairy tale?

“The phrasing is critical,” Raphael said, ignoring my question. “If you don’t ask for precise terms, they will respond with useless ambiguity. If you forget to give a time frame, the answer will be equally useless. Do you understand?”

“I’m not an idiot,” I groused. I committed the nonsensical question to memory .

“I didn’t say you were,” he said smoothly, not moving out of my space in the slightest.

“But I want to know why .” Why I was wasting my one allotted question on a myth.

But Raphael would say no more. He left my side once we moved a few more paces forward, no doubt lurking in the shadows, to avoid tripping any vampire sensors.

It was half an hour more before I was finally to the front of the line.

An extra five minutes, because the balding man in front of me wouldn’t stop complaining.

Apparently, he didn’t appreciate the answer he’d gotten and was demanding another audience.

“Sir, you do not have an appointment.” The hooded Librarian who stood at the entrance was half as tall and half as thin as the portly figure. Her voice was gentle, like a spring breeze. Her uniform was a bright sky blue, a thin chain of links clasping the shoulders together.

“I don’t need one! I told you, girl, I was here the other day, and the Librarian was wrong.”

“The Librarians are not wrong.” A bold claim, but delivered without an ounce of ego. Like it was simply a fact—witches had magic, Eurobis had three moons, and the Librarians had all the answers.

Frustrated, the man made a critical mistake.

Since arguing wasn’t getting him what he wanted, he tried to force his way past. He threw a hand on the girl’s shoulder and pushed.

I braced for the Librarian to stumble back.

She couldn’t match his physical strength.

Instead, it was the man who bounced back as if repelled by an invisible force field.

“Sylvester Norag, you are not welcome in the Great Library.” Her voice thickened—no, that wasn’t the right word. It was more like several voices spoke at once, some higher pitched, some lower. The hair on the back of my neck tingled.

She lifted an arm in front of her, a single card lifted between her fingers.

“You are not welcome anywhere in Eurobis.”

Powerful magic flew from the card. A beam of light engulfed Sylvester, swallowing his body. I tucked my head into the crook of my elbow to block out the blinding glare.

When I looked up, there was no trace of the balding man. Only ashes remained, fading into the dirt of the floor.

I gaped.

“Next, please,” the Librarian chirped.