Page 57 of The Darkening (The Darkening)

My strength leaves me, and I want nothing more than to be alone. “You’re in my room.”

He makes a show of taking in the room, surprise painted on his face. “Well, look at that.”

I’m not in the mood. “My roommate might come back.”

He flicks a finger. “Look again.”

Her side is spotlessly clean, as if she never lived here.

“She’s gone to apprentice with the Regia’s Guard.”

I shrug that off, having had enough of the Regia’s Guard for one day. Frowning, I wait for him to get up, to leave, but he seems utterly comfortable at the foot of my bed. “Can I help you?”

He pats the mattress.

I scowl and fold myself across from him, leaning against the wall.

He puts the book down on his lap, open to a faded illustration. “Have you ever heard of the kingdom of the sky?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not in the mood, Iz.”

“It’s a good one,” he says. “Once, in a time long before the Storm, there was an island in the sky, ruled by a king and queen who were beautiful, and noble, and just. Their happiness was complete when they had children, twins, a boy and a girl. The twins grew up happy and loved, but they always wondered: what lay below? What was there outside of their happy island kingdom?”

Izamal’s voice is soothing, warm and deep. I let him spin his tale about the twins, who leap from the island to their deaths. The king and queen are maddened by their grief and build replacement children out of clay. But there’s always something wrong with the clay children; they speak backwards, or kill small animals, or weep without end.

“In the end, the queen leapt from the island to go be with her children. The king stayed behind, and till the end of time, he worked on perfecting his creatures.”

Izamal trails off. “I could’ve sworn it had a happy ending.”

“That’s it?” I ask.

He grins. “Sorry. We’ll have to make our happy endings, I think.”

I pull loose threads from the bedspread. “I haven’t found the entrance. But there’s the way Dalca smells—”

His eyebrows rise.

I hope the dark hides the warmth in my cheeks. “He smells like the garden in the first. I saw Cas there, too. Unless they both have a secret love of gardening, I’d wager they’re hiding something there. But they kick apprentices out of the high rings at sundown.”

“I’ll look around.”

“What if—” I cut myself off. I’ve discovered so little, that I don’t like entertaining the idea. But: “It might not be where Pa is. What if itisa hiding place—but for something else?”

Izamal’s voice is low, careful. “It’s possible. But not likely. He’s desperate. And Alcanar’s just about all that’s on his mind. Except... maybe a certain gray-eyed apprentice.”

I ignore his teasing. “Pa facing the Trials means Dalca is running out of time to get whatever he’s after. You saw his face when Ragno made the announcement—he wasn’t pleased. I don’t think Pa’s given him what he wants.”

His hand falls on my shoulder. “Your father won’t give him what he wants. Alcanar Vale would never.”

I bite my cheek. Izamal sees Pa only as a hero from stories. I don’t want him to know that Pa spent most of my life hiding, that he never taught me ikonomancy. I glance at him. “Do your parents know about what you do?”

He stills. “My mother, vaguely. I try to keep her out of it. My father... I tell him nothing.”

“You don’t get along?”

A strange tenseness comes over him.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”