Page 3 of Tempest Blazing (The Dragonne Library #3)

"One might think," Moriyana interrupted smoothly, "that we should be more concerned about how our security was breached than about questioning the victim of that breach."

The word 'victim' seemed to hang in the air, and I saw several expressions shift. Elara nodded approvingly. Theron's posture straightened as he studied the sealed wall where the intruder had escaped, his expression grim. Even Silvius looked momentarily uncertain.

But Dorian wasn't finished. "Security breaches require investigation. Thorough investigation. Perhaps Miss Whittaker wouldn't mind submitting to a memory scan? To help us understand exactly what happened?"

Ice shot through my veins. A memory scan would reveal everything—the intruder's Guild insignia, the stolen information about the Heart of Creation, the torn parchment burning a hole in my pocket. They'd see it all.

"That's quite enough," Moriyana stated. "Miss Whittaker has been through a traumatic experience.

She doesn't need to be subjected to invasive magical procedures.

" Her mental voice carried a sharp edge.

"Besides, any formal investigation would fall under the Library's jurisdiction, not the Omnium's. You simply happen to be here, Dorian."

Dorian's expression darkened at the reminder of jurisdictional boundaries.

"With respect, Grand Luminary," Silvius said, though his tone held no respect at all, "security protocols exist for everyone's protection. If there truly was an intruder—"

"There was," I reiterated.

The Library itself seemed to pulse around us in response, lights flickering in patterns that felt almost like speech. Books rustled on distant shelves, and the very walls hummed with confirmation—as if the ancient structure itself bore witness to the truth.

The display was impressive, but it raised an uncomfortable question that I filed away for later—if the Library possessed such awareness, such power, why hadn't it prevented the breach in the first place? Something I'd need to ask Moriyana about privately.

Silvius's expression went carefully blank. He couldn't argue with the Library directly—not here, not in front of witnesses. But the look he shot me promised this conversation wasn't over.

"Very well," he said finally. "But this incident will require a full report. And increased security measures."

"Even though I'm part of the Omnium Council rather than the Library leadership," Elara interjected, "I'd like to offer a suggestion." She looked between Silvius and Moriyana carefully. "Perhaps we should discuss those measures privately. No need to alarm the general population."

Was this a cover-up? It seemed like they wanted to bury this, pretend it never happened. I opened my mouth to protest, then caught Moriyana's subtle shake of her great head. Not here. Not now.

"Of course," Dorian agreed, his smile predatory. "We wouldn't want to cause unnecessary panic. Though I do think enhanced security around our... newer... Riders would be prudent."

"The Guild will handle internal security," Silvius said coldly. "The Library's defenses will be reviewed and strengthened."

"I'd like to be involved in that review," Theron said firmly.

"As Miss Whittaker's instructor, I have a vested interest in understanding any vulnerabilities that might affect her safety.

" His gaze moved between Silvius and Dorian.

"And as a Rider, I'm concerned about any weaknesses in our defensive systems."

Silvius's expression tightened, but he nodded curtly. "Fine. We'll coordinate through proper channels."

The meeting continued for another twenty minutes, but it felt like hours. Plans were made for increased security, protocols were discussed, and through it all, I felt like a specimen under a microscope. Every word I spoke was weighed and measured, every reaction catalogued.

Finally, mercifully, the group began to disperse.

Silvius left first, his parting look promising future unpleasant conversations.

Dorian followed, his pale eyes lingering on me with unsettling intensity.

Theron hesitated, his expression serious as he caught my eye.

"We'll talk later," he said quietly. "About security protocols and.

.. other things." The promise in his voice suggested he understood there was more to this situation than what had been discussed.

That left Moriyana and Elara, and I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.

I found myself oddly grateful for Theron's support.

He hadn't defended me because we were close—his focus had been entirely on the threat to the Library and the logical inconsistencies in the others' responses.

That objectivity, that professional distance, somehow made his backing more meaningful.

It suggested I could trust his judgment, even when personal feelings weren't involved.

"You handled that well," Moriyana said quietly once the others were out of earshot. "Better than I expected."

"I felt like I was on trial," I admitted.

"In a way, you were." Elara's glamoured features softened with something like sympathy. "I'm afraid that's likely to continue for some time."

My heart sank. "What do you mean?"

Elara glanced around, making sure they were truly alone, then stepped closer. "I had hoped to discuss this in our interview session for the Oral History Project, but I think it's best if we postpone that for now."

Disappointment hit harder than it should have. But I nodded in agreement.

"The political climate is... volatile. Your existence as a human Rider has created significant divisions within the supernatural community. The Omnium Council is split into factions, and your situation has become a focal point for larger debates about integration and tradition."

"Factions?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.

"Three main groups," Elara explained. "The Integrationists—like myself—who believe humans and supernatural beings can and should work together as equals.

The Traditionalists, who want to maintain the old ways and see human involvement as contamination.

And the Swing votes, who could go either way depending on how events unfold. "

"And right now?"

"Right now, the Traditionalists see you as proof that integration has gone too far.

They're pushing for what they call 'protective measures'—policies that would essentially segregate humans from supernatural society again.

" Her expression darkened. "Some are even discussing ways to.

.. correct... bonds they see as mistakes. "

My blood turned to ice. The torn parchment in my pocket seemed to burn against my skin. They didn't just want to separate humans from supernatural society—they wanted to sever the bonds that connected us.

"I see," I said carefully.

Elara studied my face with those uncanny eyes. "Be careful, Tess. You have allies, but you also have enemies who see your very existence as a threat to everything they believe in. Don't trust everyone who claims to be on your side."

With that cheerful warning, she squeezed my shoulder and walked away, leaving me alone with Moriyana in the restricted section.

"She's right, you know," Moriyana projected quietly. "About being careful. What happened here today—it's just the beginning."

I pulled the torn parchment from my pocket, unfolding it with shaking hands. "I need to show you something."

Moriyana's golden eyes widened as she read the fragment about the Concordance Matrix. "Where did you get this?"

"I tore it from the intruder when he escaped. He was carrying information about severing magical bonds." I met her draconic gaze. "He was also wearing Guild insignia."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"You didn't tell them," she observed.

"I didn't know who to trust. I still don't." I folded the parchment carefully. "Someone inside the Guild is working against us. And now they're planning to increase security—security that might be compromised."

"Moriyana," I said slowly, a thought occurring to me. "Why didn't the Library stop him? It shifts and moves so easily for me—surely it could have trapped the intruder?"

The dragon's expression grew thoughtful. "The Library's power requires balance, child. Just as there must be balance between order and chaos, between Alaia's harmony and Sovrax's discord, so too must the Library maintain equilibrium. It cannot simply impose its will without consequence."

"But it moves for me," I said, confused.

"Yes. Because you naturally embody that balance." Moriyana's mental voice held a note of wonder. "The Library responds to you because your very nature harmonizes with its purpose. You don't command it—you exist in concert with it."

I remembered the memory I'd witnessed about balance, how crucial it was. But I hadn't realized it went so deep, hadn't understood that this principle was woven into the very fabric of magical reality.

"I didn't know balance was so... fundamental," I admitted.

"Few truly understand it. And fewer still can embody it as you do." Moriyana's golden eyes held mine. "Your presence here isn't just impactful, Tess. The Library doesn't merely like you—it needs you."

The weight of that revelation settled over me like a mantle.

My bond with Thalon, the Library's response to me, even the way I'd instinctively known how to navigate its shifting passages—none of it was coincidence.

There was something about me, something that made me essential to maintaining the very balance that kept the Library functioning.

Moriyana's great head nodded slowly. "What do you want to do?"

The question surprised me. No one had asked what I wanted to do. Everyone else had been making plans around me, about me, but not with me.

"I want to find out everything I can about the Heart of Creation and this Concordance Matrix," I said, the decision crystallizing as I spoke. "The Library chose me for something. Thalon chose me. I want to understand why, and I want to be ready for whatever's coming."

"Now that sounds like a plan worth pursuing. The Library and I will help however we can."

"Thank you." Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by determination. "Because I have a feeling we're going to need all the help we can get."

As if in response to my words, the Library hummed around us, warm and protective and utterly loyal. Whatever was coming, whatever forces were arrayed against us, I wouldn't face them alone.

The real fight was just beginning.