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CHAPTER THIRTY

I sak didn’t find out what the ice bear had meant by ‘ships’ until a day later when he and Anzhelika overheard gossip on their way to the library to meet Harth. Sunny would have been with them, but someone had to be the breadwinner of the family. Well, bread maker; Sunny, it turned out, had a bakery on a cute little street in the artisan quarter. That explained the lavender biscuits Isak couldn’t stop thinking about. He’d miss them when he had to leave the capital. He’d miss Anzhelika and Sunny, too.

He’d been in a black mood last night when their first search of the mammoth library that towered above the learning quarter of Saintsgarde turned up nothing, not even a hint at a gold box. The mated couple had stayed up late telling jokes and bawdry tales until he couldn’t help but laugh, passing a bottle of strong honey whiskey between them until Isak felt almost optimistic. They were good people. Good friends. He’d never had good friends before.

“Great,” Isak muttered as they passed three men loudly discussing huge ships that had been spotted close to Sainsa’s border. “Now we’ve got to worry about ships invading as well as Vassalian soldiers.”

“Vassal only has a small number of ships, though,” Anzhelika replied with a frown, tucking closer to him when a woman stormed past, lugging a cart full of freshly bound books behind her. “Everyone knows that. The ships can’t be theirs.”

“Or they’re the saints’ ships,” Isak muttered. “Did you hear what those guys said?”

“I heard a lot of superstitious bullshit,” she dismissed, flicking a pale hand. “Dark ships made of living wood that bleeds when stabbed? That’s complete shit.”

Isak would have agreed except… “He said they sailed up the Crooked Finger. That’s where the Venhausian saints' circle is, and I highly doubt it’s a coincidence.”

“So—what? You think the saints brought ships through the stones? I’m not an expert, but aren’t those things ten feet tall? Hardly big enough to fit a ship through, Isak.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, but the fact that Olek had told Harth to ask his father about them was unsettling. What did the ice bear know?

“Come on,” Anzhelika sighed, nudging him when his mind wandered. She elbowed him so hard that Isak wavered off the pavement and nearly ended up in the road. “Less talk about invading ships and more focus on finding that gold box so you can rescue your mate.”

“It’s hard to stay focused with the end of the world drawing closer,” he replied dryly, leaning on his stick as he regained his balance beside her. “We still don’t know if the saints' circle near Marszton is intact.”

There was no information coming from that side of Lower Aether at all. Darkness had fallen across most of Venhaus and the silence from the other side hardly inspired confidence that Isak and co. could beat the saints. Two weeks and the saints had swept across most of the fucking continent, and Isak was no closer to getting his brother, mate, and their friends out of their clutches.

“Oh look, it’s His Scowling Highness,” Anzhelika drawled quietly, a smirk crossing her face as she gave a sardonic little wave at Harth, already waiting with a continent of three guards on the steps of the library. Her flirty interest in him had worn off after a single day, where she'd seemed Harth too serious and unimaginative to join Sunny in bed.

“You’re late,” Harth snapped, looking even more surly and pissed off than yesterday. Isak was immediately annoyed by how gallant and princely he looked. “I’ve been waiting for minutes.”

As if the universe liked him, a nearby clocktower brightly chimed the hour. Isak grinned. “Looks like we’re right on time, general.”

Harth’s expression darkened, and Isak might have felt some sympathy for the shadows around his gold eyes and the obvious stress lining his bearded face, but he was too anxious himself. He’d never been particularly nice when he was worked up.

“Shall we go in?” Isak asked in a taunting little voice, skipping up the library’s wide steps and trying not to gawk at the beauty of it. The building was made of huge blocks of a rare teal stone, with arabesque patterns carved from the base of the library all the way to the towers that soared above. Every window and doorway was lined with bright gold. The name that curved above the grand doors was picked out in similar gilding. THE GREAT LIbrARY OF SAINSA, it read. Isak had heard stories about this place, tracing all the way back through centuries.

Isak strode through the mammoth door into a haven of rustling paper, murmured conversations, and… peace. A reverent quiet hung over the place that made Isak itchy. He wasn’t well suited for quiet places; he always wanted to shout something filthy at the top of his lungs.

Just ahead of him, a fae woman with half-moon spectacles perched on her long nose glanced up when the three of them—plus guards—strode in. Her skin was covered in rich green moss, and branches towered above her head, decorated in places with delicate gold rings. She wore a flowing purple robe, exactly what Isak would expect of a fae librarian, and when her mouth thinned at the racket the guards made in their leather armour, the look was complete. He waited for her to shush them, and smirked when she did just that.

Textbook librarian. Really, he couldn’t ask for any better.

Isak approached her desk and had just opened his mouth when Harth strode forward and spoke over him. “Hello, ma’am, we’re searching for books on the saints.”

“No, we’re searching for books on ancient relics,” Isak bit out, shooting the prince a warning look. He was the one who’d trekked across two kingdoms and sailed a fucking sea to get here, to find information to save Jaro and Maia. This was his goddamn quest, and he’d be damned if Harth would override him. He met the librarian’s disapproving gaze and explained, “I’m looking for a golden box, probably decorative and very old. It’d be extremely powerful. Do you happen to know any books about a box like that?”

She glanced away from him towards Harth in all his fancy military regalia. “Books on saints can be found in the back, near the grand window.” Isak was speared with her gaze next. “Do you want fiction stories about relics, or history?”

“History,” he said at the same time Anzhelika said, “Both.”

“Split up?” he suggested, meeting his friend’s eyes and not understanding how she was so calm. He was itching under his skin, impatient and urgent and—afraid. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but they were running out of time. The news of those bleeding ships didn’t help.

“We’ll meet back in an hour,” Harth said, clapping Isak’s shoulder and halting before Anzhelika. Her expression warned him against any touching and he wisely avoided her. “Thank you,” the general enforcer said to the librarian, dipping his head as he and his guards strode off.

The woman sighed, her moss ruffling. “History section is upstairs, floor three. Stories of magic can be found on floor one and seven, depending on if you want adult fiction or children’s.”

“Thanks, beautiful,” Anzhelika said with a sultry smile that made her almost friendly. Isak gave her a disbelieving look. She whispered, “What? You heard Sunny last night; we’re shopping for a third.”

Isak laughed under his breath, though the smile fell from his face at the thought of climbing three fucking floors. With a sigh, and a quick thank you to the woman because Viskae reminded him of his manners, he set off, gripping the worn wooden handle of his stick.

This could be it, he told himself as he began to climb. This could be how they found the box, destroyed the saints, and saved his family.

An hour later, Isak’s eyes burned, his leg pulsed in complaint at the stiff position he sat in in the chair in front of a bright window on the third floor, surrounded by books and silence. It made Viskae’s voice all the clearer as she nagged at him, distracting him every two damn minutes.

“Could I get some fucking silence?” he snapped as he finally finished his latest chapter, finding no hint of any box. He knew about a dozen different swords, daggers, keys, and statues, but no box. “Actually, better than that,” he muttered so the other people up here didn’t hear him, “why don’t you tell me where that pull you felt is leading you?”

I can still feel it, she replied. This is exactly where we’re meant to be. Something is tugging at me, pulling me… down?

“Down?” he murmured, closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf since it was time to meet up with the others. “What the hell does that mean?”

You asked. Don’t take huff with me just because you don’t like the answer.

Isak sighed, grabbed his stick, and stretched out his leg before dragging himself out of the chair. The walk down was much preferable to the trek up six damn flights of stairs—two for each floor, because of course. He was irritable at the lack of progress but he reminded himself it had only been an hour and the great library was huge. It would take weeks to search everything here.

Fuck, that was a depressing thought.

“Any luck?” he asked when he reached the bottom of the stairs and spotted the general enforcer standing stiff-backed beside a tall bookcase full of bright-spined, leather-bound books.

“There’s mention of a lightning bolt pin being linked to the Eversky,” Harth answered instantly, striding forward and opening a small book to show Isak a sketch.

Isak pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. “A box. Do you know what a box is, you fucking imbecile? It’s a cube, six-sided, and doesn’t generally pin itself to one’s fucking clothes!”

“I see our first leg of research went well,” Anzhelika drawled, skipping down the last few steps to join Isak. “I found a drinking tankard shaped like Leovan’s cock, in case you were wondering. The handle is his hairy ball sack.”

“Delightful,” Isak drawled, the laugh that broke from him lessening the tightness straining his chest. “Out of curiosity, anyone know where I can buy one?”

She snorted.

“Could we focus?” Harth snapped, his stern expression cracking to reveal the pressure underneath. “My sister’s life is at risk every moment you stand here laughing.”

Isak jerked forward, baring his teeth, his shoulders hunching around his ears. “I know exactly what is at stake. I know what she’s going through right this second, because unlike you I’ve lived it.” He was breathing hard now, his hand shaking where he gripped his stick. “You want to talk about time wasting? How about instead of starting arguments with me, we keep researching until we find this fucking box, because it’s the only thing standing between my mate and death. Since you missed it the first time, we’re looking for a gold box, not any other trinket. An ancient box.”

Harth’s hostility had muted. Now he raked a hand over his perfect hair and sighed. “I thought the pin could help us, but you’re right. And I apologise for undermining your fear.”

The slimy coil of guilt wound through Isak’s stomach. Maia didn’t even like him, and here her brother was feeling sympathy for him. He had to remind himself what Sunny had said in the bathroom. Maia was his mate even if she hated him. He straightened his spine and met Harth’s serious gold eyes.

“I’m sorry I snapped, too. Look, I don’t think we’ll be able to find this in an hour. And your Eversky pin is more than Anzhelika found, so why don’t we all go back to the saints section and see what we can find?”

“Excuse me,” a husky voice cut in, making Harth’s guards startle. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but are you looking for ancient relics?”

Isak turned, the base of his stick scraping the polished floor and making a horrific screech. A small, white-bearded man stood a few paces away, leaning on a walking stick far fancier than Isak’s, the honey wood carved with images and details, the handle pure gold. The man was draped in a similar robe to the first woman they’d met here, but his were teal—a colour Isak had come to realise denoted rank.

“Nice stick,” Isak remarked, admiring that gold handle.

“Thank you very much,” the man said with a pleased grin.

Anzhelika elbowed Isak, with enough force that he grunted and would no doubt be nursing a bruise later.

“We’re looking for any information or stories about a gold box—it’d be hundreds of years old, powerful, and maybe connected to the saints.”

The man considered Isak, then gave Anzhelika a similar perusal. He did the same with Harth and the guards. Isak supposed he should probably learn their names, but it was hard to focus on the names of strangers when his family was at stake. He’d just call them Grumpy, Grumpier, and Grumpiest.

“I don’t know who you are, or why you warrant a retinue of a general enforcer and three of our finest warriors, but it must be urgent.” The librarian angled himself away, tipping his head. “You need the books from the crypt. Follow me, and I’ll show you.”