“And you’re still… tethered?”
“Yes.” His jaw flexed. “Enough that I can’t wander far from you. Whether it’s to monitor your healing or because he hasn’t bothered to release me—I don’t know.”
He glanced away, irritation tightening his voice. “But trust me, it isn’t by choice.”
This close to him, I could finally take in the details of his face. They were sharper than I’d realized before. High cheekbones and a strong, squared jaw, softened just slightly by the curve of his mouth. His skin was sun-warmed, tanned from sunlight I almost forgot the feel of, and a faint scar traced along the left side of his brow, nearly hidden beneath the unruly sweep of golden hair.
But it was his eyes that caught me. There was something unreadable in them, a depth that didn’t quite match the ease of his expression.
“This way,” Santiago murmured. “The library.”
The moment we stepped inside, I stopped cold.
It was breathtaking.
A vast cathedral of knowledge stretched before us. Books stacked in endless columns disappeared into the shadowed heights above, where a domed skylight crowned the ceiling. The scent—leather, parchment, ink, and magic—wrapped around me.
I kept close to the shelves, fingers grazing the spines of books that looked older than the stones beneath my feet. I was mapping, memorizing, searching for exits even in the quiet. Every gilded binding, every whisper of parchment reminded me that I was deep in the heart of a place that wasn’t mine. A place I needed to get out of. Aeryn didn’t have time for me to linger.
Behind me, Santiago’s voice broke the silence. “You talk in your sleep.”
I turned, my shoulders tightening, gaze narrowing. “What?”
“You were murmuring. Something about stars and thresholds and flame. It was… poetic.”
I let my expression flatten, unreadable. “I didn’t know I did that.”
“It sounds like you have very lucid dreams.”
My grip on the iron poker tightened. “They’ve always felt… more real than they should.” The admission slipped out sharper than I intended, and I hated myself for giving him even that much.
“Maybe they are,” he said quietly, with a weight that made me want to demand what he knew.
I turned away before he could see the flicker of unease in my eyes. I wasn’t unpacking this with someone I barely trusted.
A movement snapped at the corner of my vision. I spun, heart slamming, poker raised.
Small fingers curled around the edge of a nearby shelf—delicate, trembling. Someone, or something, was watching us.
I stepped forward carefully. “It’s alright, little one. We’re just here to browse. Stretch our legs a bit.”
The creature emerged in a flutter of wings. I knew her instantly. The same violet eyes that had hovered over me when I first woke blinked, wide and indignant. Her skin caught the light in a shimmer of onyx and gold, wings humming so fast they seemed frozen midair.
She wore a fitted tunic made of gossamer fabric that shimmered with every shift of her body, cinched at the waist with strands of crystal thread. Silver beads dangled from her sleeves and hem, chiming faintly with her movements.
“Excuse me,” she said, voice sharp and indignant. “I am not a child.”
“I remember you, Seraphine,” I said before I could stop myself. She looked almost pleased by the acknowledgment.
She floated higher, placing her tiny hands on her hips, unimpressed. “Good. Now, if you’re going to wander the archives, don’t touch anything unless you know what it is. Some of the books bite.”
Santiago coughed to hide a laugh.
I ignored him, eyes still on Seraphine. “And what exactly do you do here?” I asked instead, narrowing my gaze.
“I’m the Keeper of this dusty little treasure trove,” she replied with a flick of her wrist, as if it were obvious. “Books, secrets, absurdly long staircases—I hoard them all. Think of me as a very glamorous dragon.” She preened, clearly pleased with the comparison.
She spun in the air once, then zipped away toward the far end of the library, muttering something under her breath about mortals and their manners—never changing, no matter how many centuries passed.