Page 116 of In The Dark

His blue eyes find mine as he searches my face again. Only this time his expression is softer, with more understanding before he drops his head. He nods on an exhale, and without a word, his grip loosens, and he takes a large step back to study me before turning for the stairs.

“Then we’ll leave tonight. We only have a few hours left so we better get going. Grab your weapons. We leave in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes go by when I whirl to the front of the archives, cloaked in the Veil. It’s like second nature to me as my essence continues to grow, feeling it become a part of my body as if it never left. Conjuring my magic up is as easy as a thought, my hands warming at the thought of it while we wait.

We should be in and out in a matter of minutes. Two stand in the hallway, guarding the doors near the edge of the stairs that lead down into the courtyard. One on each side and far enough away that it would take them a moment to become alerted of the doors being opened.

Standing in the Veil allows me to see anyone in it, as it’s like sharing the same space. I look at Rydian now, who’s armed to the teeth, hood drawn low over his brow. But his jaw is firm as he glances at me, still wary of doing this tonight. He can’t shift in the archives, so he has to stay in his true form.

“We’ve been here for ten minutes with no shift change,”he says.

“A few more minutes,”I plead.

We came to the agreement that if there was no shift change, we would leave and wait for Ren in the next couple of days to formulate a plan. I agreed only because I was determined to get the second half of the map tonight.

Then the doors begin to open. The two guards from inside the archives walk out, leaving us just enough space to squeeze through without alerting the two in the hall.

Rydian’s gaze meets mine as we silently walk at a quick pace to catch the doors right before they close—we’re in.

A sigh of relief escapes me just as the Veil flutters out like the first time we came, leaving us out in the open. I share a look with Rydian when he nods.

Striding to the back once again, I see large bookcases line the entirety of the wall, spotting the section holding the rolled parchment off to the right. Rydian goes straight for them.

“No, not there. I found the first map on his desk. I think it will be over here,” I whisper, and he quickly nods, meeting me atthe edge of King Elion’s desk as we quietly go through it. I spot the first map we made a copy of and push it aside, pulling it up to see if anything else lies under it, quickly spotting its twin.

The second map—I gasp at the sight of it.

“Here, it’s right here. I found it,” I mumble.

I knew there was a second one. Relief shoots through me, and a second later Rydian begins to roll it up. I glance down at the drawers again and begin to dig through them when I spot a chest nearby. I open it, and my eyes flare wide at what’s inside.

“We have to hurry,” he warns, and then my stomach drops at the sound of a door opening, only to find that the archive doors are still closed. Worry etches my face, and I frantically glance around when a low chuckle sounds from behind us.

“Look what we have here,” he drawls.

Rydian’s head snaps toward the sound coming from the shelves, and I realize that it’s a door, a hidden passageway, when I turn to face the voice.

A voice I recognize.

43

Ezra—what’she doing here?

Relief washes over me for a moment, but then I see his expression. It’s nothing like the Ezra I know, but someone far more sinister than that of my best friend. I knew he was loyal to King Elion, but I never expected this. I scan his face, searching for the friend I grew up with.

His features are sharper, like a mask of someone I don’t recognize, but a deep part of me knows that this must be his true personality. He walks toward us, each step calculated—predatory. My stomach drops.

This isn’t the Ezra I know.

Rydian pushes me behind him, his hood lowered over his brow, casting a shadow over his features. He slowly tucks the map beneath his cloak unnoticed.

Ezra’s expression becomes darker, and a slow, unsettling smile begins to creep up the corners of his mouth, but there’s no humor there. The warmth that once defined him as my friend has been replaced by something far more chilling. The air becomes thick, and my pulse races at the new threat in front of us.

His voice drops, his posture reeking of earned arrogance. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Ezra.” I smile cautiously, slowly grabbing the daggers at my waist. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”