Page 41 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Forty-One

EVIE

E mpty.

We stood in a massive marble hall, big enough to feel insignificant in. A deep, deep abyss burrowed in the middle, taking up most of the main floor. It stretched down so far into the bowels of the earth, I could barely make out the bottom. Its base was…moving.

“What is that?” I asked as I leaned over the banister surrounding the abyss, heart in my throat. Water? Mean, slow water?

“The sacred vines on which the library was built.” Goose’s voice shook. “They guard our most blessed texts, the foundations of our Clans.”

“That’s weirdly endearing. To have nature protecting the basis of society.”

“Yeah…they’re endearingly deadly. They will squeeze the life out of anyone who disturbs the sacred texts without the proper Blood Brotherhood touch. Which neither of us have. We’ll only be able to reach level eight, you have to climb the rest of the way.”

I frowned, trying to quiet my racing heart. “You can’t do magic.”

Goose’s cheeks tinged. “I’m still a civilian. But if I finish my studies, rise in the ranks and officially enter the Elite…Hope dies last, right?”

I gazed back down at the vines slithering and intertwining with each other. Hope would have to guide me–and the stubbornness my parents hated so much.

The upper floor around the leveled abyss was filled with symbols and crests, all flecked with gold. Sculptures sprouted from them, winding around the columns and spiraling into the underhang. There, dozens of the marble statues, each more fearsome than the next, supported the edge of the dome on their shoulders.

“Former kings and queens,” Goose whispered as my curious gaze whirled around. “The backbone of our Clan. The first stewards, dedicating their lives to aid and protect us.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. The statues held the entire dome so it wouldn’t cave. My fingers brushed my bracelet, as if it could ground me enough to be able to handle a future where I’d be responsible for so many lives.

I shook my deflated little satchel, the only thing I brought along with me. It was small and wouldn’t impede my movements, which was enough. “I hope this can hold all the books I need.”

“I don’t know if there are books down there.” Goose rushed toward one of the massive alcoves digging into the base of each tower. “I’ve never been down to the lower levels.”

I whipped toward him. “ What ?”

“Students aren’t allowed so low. I don’t know who is. Apart from the advisors, but I’ve never seen them in the Archives.”

“They don’t seem like the studious type.” Though they might have taken inspiration from whatever vile knowledge lay undisturbed in the shadows. Someone must have done it, every instinct screamed at me.

A metal platform rose from a sculpted shaft in the alcove. The thick ropes supporting it twisted as it moved.

“Constant motion. If it stops, the entire library goes on lockdown. Or if there’s any hint of smoke,” Goose said as we hopped onto the platform. The ropes hissed as the metal shuddered down.

I wasn’t surprised by the magical failsafe in case of a fire. The first level of the abyss we passed was filled with rows upon rows of shelves, carved directly into the marble. Hundreds, thousands of tomes lined the stones, all perfectly bound with cream and gold covers bearing dragons and daggers. They smelled new; the scent of fresh glue still clung in the air. A few tables lined the narrow, circular path between the abyss’ banister and the shelves.

The second level was mustier, the covers all shapes and colors. I spotted a dragon-scaled one near the exit. Fewer desks here. Even fewer on the third level. Maybe a dozen total.

“How many students are there in Phoenix Peak?” I asked, my voice ghosting through the shaft.

“Only thirty-two are accepted in our Academy every year. Most go to the official Clan Academy, but I wanted to be close to my family. And it’s a point of pride to be accepted here,” Goose said.

My frown deepened. Why was knowledge so carefully kept and rarely divided in the Blood Brotherhood?

The lower we went, the stuffier it smelled. The weaker the light became. My lungs sucked in air erratically, muscles twitching with anticipation and dread.

“Here.” Goose took out a glass sphere with a swirling ray of light inside it as the slinking sound screeching from the bottom of the abyss steeped into my bones. “It’s all I could smuggle in. It won’t set off the alarms and won’t leave a magic trace.”

The light was barely powerful enough to illuminate the hand which held the sphere, but it was better than nothing. Goose had risked so much today.

For me.

“Goose…what’s your name?” I asked as we neared the eighth and final level the platform could reach without Blood Brotherhood magic.

“I–” Goose averted his gaze, his right flying to the back of his neck. “Gargyntualet. Old name in my family. Not anywhere else in our Clan, though. People didn’t get it.”

“Hence Goose.”

“Beats Gargle,” he muttered.

“Which do you prefer?”

“Goose. They’re proud creatures, aren’t they? Fierce when rattled, though they’re not predators.”

“Whatever you want. And thank you, Goose.” I stepped closer to the edge of the platform, feeling my heart beat straight into my toes.

“For what?”

“For trusting me,” I said over my shoulder. “You go back up and don’t come back down. If you hear even the slightest sound, you run away. Got it?”

“Your Grace, I can’t leave you alone–”

“That’s an order, Goose.”

I could barely make out his reluctant nod in the darkness before I jumped off the platform onto the cold floor of the eighth level. My feet slipped on the sleek, gooey layer covering the surface. The humidity was so potent, I struggled to breathe.

Who would store sacred texts in such conditions?

Cautiously, I approached the banister and gazed down. I was two bloody levels above the slithering vines. And what awaited me below…

They looked like the ancient water snakes from the Bone Bridge legends. Monstruos tendrils twisted together, groaning where they touched. Their surface shined with vile moisture that smelled rotten.

My hands tightened on the satchel’s strap; I was repulsed by the viscous layer on the banister. Nothing and no one could save me from passing through those vines.

You could always go back .

No.

I couldn’t.

I had to know.

Who killed my parents–and if the Blood Brotherhood Clan, who I was supposed to lead, had anything to do with it.

Smothering whatever instinct roared at me to go back to the surface, I gripped the banister. My skin instantly recoiled at the sensation. Moist and gelatinous and warm. So very warm and disgusting.

I steeled myself against the revulsion threatening to lock my feet onto the floor and swung my legs over, toward the chasm waiting below. A gust of warm, decaying air gagged me. Underneath, the black pool of vines coiled, as if asking for a sacrifice.

I clenched my jaw and placed the sphere in my satchel. The darkness took over, punctuated only by the horrid sounds spinning underneath me. The hairs on my body stood up as I twisted my body so I faced the column.

With nothing but experience and scraps of courage, I climbed down. My stomach roiled, threatening to spill. Every single bone and muscle in my body cringed, begging me to climb back up, not down. I’d never fought against myself so hard in my entire life.

My feet searched for every nook and cranny they could wedge into without slipping.

The spiraling column became a pole I held onto for dear life as I slid down, the carved motifs helping me find leverage.

The air turned hotter.

When the hiss of the vines was so close I couldn’t stop my shivers, I finally caved and took out the sphere of light, angling it shakily behind me. I flinched and almost dropped it when the closest vine, twice as thick as Owyn’s powerful body, sprung up right in my face. As if it had detected an intruder.

I stood as still as my fear allowed, even as sweat poured down my temples.

The seconds ticked by.

Finally, the vine collapsed back in the nest with its petrifying brethren.

I didn’t even allow myself one sigh of relief, scared I might rattle them into suffocating me.

How, in all of Malhaven, was I going to get past them? And to where ?

I looked down. Beyond the twisting tendrils, I could only see bottomless darkness. I could only hope there wasn’t a frightening creature waiting below.

But I couldn’t go down without knowing.

I stood perfectly still as I assessed the horrifying situation. Soon, my eyes saw the pattern. Every fifteen twists, the vines shifted so that a little crevice formed between them. It was big enough that I could barely squeeze through, but it only lasted a breath.

I had to jump and hope gravity was fast enough to pull me down quickly enough.

I knew how to fall without breaking anything–as long as I was aware of what awaited underneath. I needed to estimate the drop.

Praying to forgotten gods, I swallowed thickly and waited for the next gap in the vines.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fif–

I dropped the glass sphere, hoping against all hope it wouldn’t shatter on impact. Or worse, be swallowed by some monster.

A clink later, I barely saw a wink of light, before the vines tightened again.

My shoulders tensed. Long way down, but not impossible–as long as I didn’t touch the vines.

Questioning all the decisions that had brought me here, I waited for the next gap. I tensed my muscles to the point of pain.

Thirteen.

I shouldn’t do this .

Fourteen.

Go back to the surface. Forget about this mad plan and save yourself .

Fifteen .

I jumped.