Page 41 of Kingdom of Tomorrow (Book of Arden #1)
No, thank you. I backed up a step, but invisible hands caught my waist and pulled me forward. I dug in my heels, but I couldn’t halt my momentum. When I stopped, the urge to fight drained completely.
I stood in the library, taking everything in.
My goodness. Far better than the vision Ember had provided.
There were no people present, and I was glad.
Nothing distracted me from the decor. Vibrant sunlight streamed through stained glass windows bearing the same markers as the Rock, beaming multicolored lights upon sparkly vases, hand-carved ornaments, and polished shelves.
My eyes closed for a moment, breathing in the smell of cleaner, worn leather, sweet peaches, and creamy coconut. What bliss!
The bearded man stepped from thin air to stand at my side. I set my finger on the trigger of my weapon—or tried to. I no longer held the netter.
“I’m Domino Crane.” His deep voice fit his ancient eyes. And yet, he was probably only a few years older than me. He was the kind of rough, rugged handsome that must draw scores of women into his orbit. “A member of the High Guard. You might know me as a librarian .”
“Are you kidding me?” A librarian? Seriously?
He didn’t appear offended or explain further. “Permission was granted. Look around. Touch.”
Though confused, I refused to waste this opportunity to advance my investigation, forced though it was, and eased forward, aiming for a towering bookshelf.
The book covers faced outward, each rimmed by crushed gemstones.
I extended my arm, intending to handle the tome on my left.
Such lovely rubies. A split second before contact, my hand shot to the right.
I curled my fingers around a leather-bound beauty and lifted.
A nice weight, with small, golden swirls decorating the page ends.
Flowers bloomed before my eyes, forming letters, revealing the title.
The Book of Arden , volume 20, Daily Updates .
A smile bloomed and fell. My book. The story of my life. Supposedly past, present, and future.
With great trepidation, I turned to the first page. Hmm. Written in an unfamiliar language. Flip, flip, flip. Lots of words and symbols I couldn’t read. Oh! I came to a portion of text I comprehended and gobbled up the sentences.
I rush down the hall as fast as my feet will carry me, determined to get my hands on Cyrus’s transmitter. All I must do is adhere the camera to a mine cart, and I can watch the feed to see what’s being mined.
Uh ... That was the only tidbit I got? I didn’t even know what it meant!
“Show me the rest,” I demanded, my voice echoing off fading walls. No, no, no. I clutched the tome to my chest. I wasn’t ready to leave. “Don’t send me away.” But the book was fading too. Then the library and Domino vanished completely, and my bedroom reformed.
I sank to the mattress. Frustrated and unsure, I glanced at the digital clock displayed above the dresser, then performed a double take. I’d lost hours. Had spent most of the night inside that library, though it had felt like only minutes. Now, morning was here.
I rolled my lip under my teeth. According to Cured , what I’d experienced was the first sign of the Madness. But I didn’t feel sick. I felt normal. So what was I? In between, as Shiloh had been?
A choking sound left me as I sprang to my feet. I padded to a private bathroom, where I showered and worked to center myself. Once I convinced myself I wasn’t teetering on a break, I realized I’d forgotten to send a report about Cyrus. Not that I knew where to send it.
First day on the job, and I was already failing.
I’d do better. I dressed in clean fatigues stacked in the walk-in closet. Oh, wow. The clothes were softer than usual and in my exact size. Cyrus had anticipated my acceptance, proving his claim: he knew me well.
A hard rap pierced the air. I sheathed a dagger in my boot as my host called, “Let’s go.”
Showtime. I exited the room and followed his ambrosial scent to the kitchen, where he waited, freshly showered and at ease. He looked good. Very good.
“You need to test me for Madness,” I stated. For the good of all.
“There’s no need. If you were infected, an alarm would go off.”
I blinked. “Tests are airborne now?”
“Only in Theirland, inside Cured buildings.” He poured a red concoction into two glasses and thrust a beverage at me. “I ordered you to rest, Pink. Drink every drop and tell me why you appear exhausted.”
I accepted, relieved and disturbed, saying, “I’ve had trouble sleeping my entire life.” Truth without sharing the whole story.
“Guess I’ll have to play hardball to help you,” he replied with a pleasant smile before draining his glass.
I would’ve asked what he meant, but a sip of the juice awakened atrophied taste buds, and my mind hopped on a new track. Must have more. Down the hatch! Mmm. More than delicious, the liquid invigorated me from the inside out. Cells came alive, and muscles plumped with strength.
“What is this stuff?” I asked, practically slurring my words.
“Bait.” He winked and offered his hand, sending my heartbeat into overdrive.
I licked my lips, reached out, and reluctantly twined our fingers. Ignore the warmth of his skin. The calluses on his palm. Impossible. “Hand-holding doesn’t fall under the category of babysitter,” I said, embarrassed by my breathlessness.
“Ah. But it does fall under the category of pre-dating.”
Well. “We should talk about the best way to introduce my new position to the team.”
“No need. I’ll make the announcement, and that will be that.” He led me from the apartment and into a private elevator, where he released me. Don’t protest. “You’ll be pleased to know I should receive the requested documents when we return to the base.”
“I am, thank you.”
Tone dry, he told me, “Do us both a favor and remember this feeling of gratitude.”
Um. “That’s kind of ominous.”
“I know.”
The elevator doors dinged and opened, revealing a hallway.
Cyrus hit me with a mind-melting smile, then shuffled me and my liquid brain along a winding path.
At the first security point, he logged in my ID chip, ensuring I received all access.
I noted a second glance from some of the soldiers, their curiosity palpable.
Cyrus explained nothing and his harsh demeanor discouraged questions. I did my best to appear nonchalant, as if I babysat decorated officers daily.
Now, to face my teammates. We reached a gym filled with mats and exercise equipment. The team had beaten us there, and every gaze zoomed our way as we entered. Conversations ceased midsentence, everyone rushing to stand at attention. Thankfully, I didn’t receive any loaded looks.
“Lady Roosa is working on a special project,” Cyrus announced. “You are not to ask her about it or mention it to others. Details are classified.” He motioned for me to join the others. “Hustle.”
“Yes, Sir Sugar Bear,” I muttered and jogged over.
“Today is reckoning day,” Cyrus called. “Archduke Heta’s trainees did a better job than mine, and my disappointment cannot be measured. You will practice until you improve.”
That is exactly what we did. Practice. There wasn’t time for personal matters. Cyrus pushed us to the brink, me most of all. No joke, he ordered me to do extra everything. Yes, I loved exercise, but I didn’t enjoy the buckets of sweat pouring from me. My muscles quivered and burned.
“Lark, you disabled five holograms that round. Not bad. Roosa, you also disabled five. Do better,” he snapped. “And run six laps. One for every hologram you should have felled.”
“Yes, sir,” I snapped back.
When the clock timed out a short while later, I dropped to the floor, wheezing. Lark winced with sympathy as she passed me.
“Everyone but Roosa out,” he commanded. “You didn’t do terrible, so you may enjoy yourselves while you can. There are free sandwiches in a private commons. Follow Baron Thomas.”
Cheering, the class poured from the gym. Several other soldiers cast me looks of commiseration along the way. A frowning Roman held my gaze until he disappeared beyond the door, and I couldn’t decipher the emotion he projected. I couldn’t force my legs to work either.
Cyrus strode over and crouched beside me. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You are an awful person,” I grumbled.
He arched a brow, not the least bit apologetic. “Maybe now you’ll sleep when you’re told.”
“Maybe now you’ll sleep when you’re told,” I mocked, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“I’ll give you thirty minutes to clean up and recover.” His other brow lifted. “Unless you’d rather skip the interview with Mr. Victors.”
I snapped to attention. “I’ll be ready.”