Page 34

Chapter 34

MY TREAD IS SILENT AS I pace in front of the mirror. I make one pass, then another as I once again think through every step of what I’m about to do. I’ve watched the dark office for the last few hours, and I haven’t seen any evidence of a security system. I also haven’t spotted any cameras. Not that I’m surprised by that; I’m sure the king isn’t interested in a record of the conversations and decisions made in his private space.

I’ve scrubbed myself raw with a floral-smelling soap that was in my shower. I’m pretty sure Tove put it in there as some kind of jab at the strange way I smell, but joke’s on her because it’s about to help me cover my scent trail. I’m saturated in so much flowery perfume I’m surprised I don’t start actually blooming.

Regardless of the helpful scent-cover-up, I still need to get in and out of the king’s office as quickly as possible so all traces of my visit have plenty of time to disappear. It’s working in my favor that the king will be busy with council meetings all morning, and then there’s the Naming tomorrow night. Between that and the cleaning drones that will hopefully tidy up at some point between today and tomorrow, all traces of my break-in should be long gone by the time he sets foot in his office again.

My stare fixes on the shelf of census records through the Syphon Glass. Their closed covers beckon me closer, and a heady rush of anticipation encourages me to close the distance right this second and give in to the siren song. I ignore the sensation and focus. I want the information tucked between the covers of those books, I need it, but there is zero wiggle room to fuck this up.

I blow out a breath and go over the plan again.

I’m being neurotic as fuck right now, I know I am, and yet I can’t seem to snap myself out of it. If Ren were here, she’d be rolling her eyes at me and telling me to get the fuck on with it. But she isn’t here, she’s dead, and that’s on me.

My neck pops as I stretch out. I roll my shoulders and then shake my arms to get the blood flow going and to help calm my nerves. I need to get my shit together. I’m on edge and it has my head and my heart disagreeing on what to do, a surefire way to guarantee everything goes tits up.

My head is telling me I should probably wait. I could watch the office for a while, see what else I can learn, maybe come up with a more secure plan involving suppression suits, scanners, and alternative escape plans. But my heart is thrumming a steady rhythm of now or never . It’s telling me I’m banking on time I don’t have and that this is the best shot I’m going to get at the king’s office before I’m wrapped up in all of the political jaw-wagging and showboating that the king and his sons have lined up for me. I need to make a decision before my opposing sides drop the gloves and start taking bare-knuckled swings to see which one wins.

I stop my pacing and square off with the Syphon Glass.

It’s just a quick in and out.

No big deal.

I’ve done it plenty of times before.

I scoff at that thought, because I’ve never broken into the tower of the most powerful being on the planet, but there was that one time I had to steal an egg from a nest of breeding gorgons. This should be a cakewalk compared to that.

I glance over my shoulder at the door I know Gatlin is guarding. He’s already done his checks for the night and shouldn’t come in here unless something draws his attention. The keeps are quiet, and there’s even a blanket of clouds keeping the stars from spying on what I’m about to do.

If I’m going, I need to go now.

Filling my lungs with a fortifying breath, I banish the last of my doubts. I take one more look around the dark office, but no new cameras have sprung up, and there still isn’t any sign of an active security system. I exhale the breath I was holding and move.

Thumbing the cut on my finger from earlier, I watch as fresh blood wells. I press the scarlet drops to the crest in the corner of the Syphon Glass, tracing a pattern that shifts the surface from spy mode and turns it into a Port. The image on the surface vibrates and then bows slightly before rippling back into place and smoothing out.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I step into the pane of magic. Immediately, a glacial rush envelops me. The frigid wash of power is a shock to my senses. It feels like I’m walking through a sheet of slush as I’m magically transported from my room in Aeson’s rookery to the king’s office.

I don’t remember it feeling like this the last time I used a Vitric Port, a realization that has unease solidifying in my stomach. The wasps in my gut should be rioting alongside the settling apprehension, but I’m pretty sure they’re frozen solid at the moment.

Adrenaline floods my veins, my heart working double time to prime my system now that I’m finally taking action and not just fretting. My body is no longer beholden to the laws of gravity. My limbs feel stretched to the brink even though I can see that they’re still perfectly normal. My labored breaths are plumes of frost, and my lungs are quickly becoming nothing more than icebergs floating in my chest. I can’t really see anything around me; my surroundings are a weird blur that makes me want to rub my eyes until my vision sharpens.

Just as quickly as it all started, it stops, and I step out of the Port in King Noctis’s office onto a low cabinet that’s positioned directly under the magic mirror. The glass surface of the Port ripples and eddies behind me as I’m dispelled, and blessed heat once again kisses my skin.

Out of nowhere, the quiet plink of rattling crystal suddenly fills the room, and I go utterly still. My gaze frantically searches for a source or a threat, and then I notice a tray at the end of the cabinet I’m perched on that has decanters of alcohol and spare glasses sitting on it. I blow out a careful breath and move slowly so as not to disturb the tray more than I already have.

I crouch on the cabinet, sitting long enough that if a silent alarm had alerted anyone to my presence, I’d hear their hurried footsteps heading my way by now. Thankfully, the office is quiet and undisturbed, just like it has been since the king and the scions left hours ago. Cautiously, I press a foot to the ground, and then I wait again to see if the movement or pressure on the floor sets off any other security measures.

When it’s clear I’m not setting off any unseen sensors in the king’s office, I climb fully off the cabinet and step cautiously into the room. I edge around the back of the sofa the king sat on and ignore the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books to my right and left.

Slipping silently behind the king’s workspace, I aim for the census records on the shelf. A trio of monitors light up unexpectedly across the surface of the desk, and I just barely swallow down my gasp at the jump scare. My heart hammers a pounding rhythm of oh fuck against my sternum, and the sudden burst of light in the darkness has me blinking spots from my vision. Slowly my eyes adjust again, and I cautiously study the three glowing, transparent screens. They float a few inches above the wood, and there’s an equally diaphanous-looking keyboard waiting to be of use just in front of them.

The setup looks innocent enough, almost inviting, but as innocuous as it seems, I know better than to go messing with tech like this. There may not be cameras or an extensive security system in this room, but I guarantee the king’s mainframe is locked down as tight as they come.

I give the desk and computer my back and once again zero in on the spines of the census records. I’ve already decided to start with the Burner territories since the other Syphons and I don’t usually hunt that far north. The book is lighter than I expect it to be as I pluck it from the shelf, and that makes my stomach start to roil with worry.

“Come on,” I whisper, hoping I’m wrong as I open the cover and look inside.

The spine of the book creaks, but it isn’t a weathered paper page that greets me, it’s a black screen that instantly boots up to show a search prompt.

Fuck.

It’s a digital record that’s been made to look like a leather-bound tome.

Double fuck.

I grind my molars as my gaze flicks from the digital record in my hands to the off-limits computer on the desk and back again. There’s a chance they’re not connected. Their networks could be different. The odds aren’t great, but it’s possible.

My fingers hover over the dim keypad.

Eight letters and a little good fortune is all I need…

I close the book. My head drops back and I huff out a long breath laden with frustration. It would be so easy to type Relacour in the search bar, but I can’t risk it. I’ve pushed my luck enough simply breaking in here.

I want to throw the book across the room and curse everything to the moon and back again, but I keep my anger in check. Maybe there’s something else in this office I can use. My intuition was practically shoving me through the Port to get in here; it can’t all be for nothing. There has to be something here that I need, something that will help the Syphons.

A smooth, canorous voice suddenly rings out behind me, and my blood turns to ice in my veins.

“Want to tell me who you’re looking for, Ever Tenebrae? Maybe I can be of assistance.”