“You aren’t too turned around,” she said. “Take the next two rights and go down the spiral staircase. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Mila said, flashing a kind smile.
Weaving her fingers between mine, Mila pulled me down the hall before anyone could say another word, the image of an innocent couple scampering off for a rendezvous, with that female likely following our every step.
When we reached the library, the arched doorframe towered, a show of power and extravagance like every other damn thing in this palace. And there were more candles lining the aisles. Spirits, the sooner we got away from here, the better.
I checked over my shoulder, but there was no sign of anyone following us.
“Mora and Lancaster truly made this?” I whispered as we walked down the long aisle leading from the doors to the center of the domed room. The air was heavy with the scent of worn parchment, leather, and magic—the latter likely from the construction of such a massive endeavor. “Angels, there’s an archive desk and all.”
Mila spun around herself, eyes dragging over every shelf and shadow. Through the windows carving along the upper level, moonlight pushed against the clouds, silver spilling over every surface and leather-bound story. It reflected in her wide eyes as she strode up to the round desk in the center of the library.
“Hello?” she called, leaning over the counter, and I ducked around the side, looking down a few of the aisles. Books towered to the high ceilings, rolling ladders awaiting use, but no one lingered between the shelves.
“Maybe we can?—”
“May I help you two?” A voice came out of the shadows, its owner rounding the far end of the circular desk with a candle in hand. Opening the waist-high door hidden in the wood, she entered the space and braced her elbows on the counter, tugging her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“We’re looking for books,” I said. Of course we were.
“You are in the right place.” Her voice floated on the air, comforting.
“Do you work here?” Mila asked.
She titled her head, black hair a night-drenched river over her shoulder. “I am a keeper of tales.”
“We’re with the warrior party visiting the queen,” I admitted. She could probably tell based on our scent anyway. “We’d love to learn more about the gods, though.”
A viper’s smile split her lips, eyes glinting. “The gods?”
“Given we know little of them but they’re imperative to fae culture,” Mila said, returning a much softer grin, “and we are being so kindly hosted here, we thought it may be prudent to study Aoiflyn.”
The woman observed us, then waved a hand toward the stacks to her left, gold bangles chiming a soothing rhythm. “That section focuses on the gods.”
“Thank you,” I said with a dip of my chin.
As we were walking away, her voice drifted after us. “I believe you’ll find the third aisle the most helpful.”
“Right,” I nodded, and held out a hand to guide Mila ahead of me.
We started down the row she indicated, but after reading the first section of titles, my brows pulled together.
“The third aisle is all…” I scanned the words gilding spine after spine.Death’s Child,A Goddess’ Dance with Death,Born in the Gates of the Desert…
“They’re all about Artale,” Mila finished. She looked back toward the now empty archive desk. As I came up beside her, her shoulder brushing my chest, I followed her stare. She dropped her voice. “Why would she tell us the third aisle if this is Artale, not Aoiflyn?”
Stretching a hand above my shoulder, Mila tugged one book from the shelf, holding it down near the candle. I stepped closer to read with her, her warmth seeping into my body and that cinnamon scent making me want to finish what we’d started in the hall.
“Sphinx tales?” I asked, trying to focus as she leafed through the tomb.
She answered, “Apparently, they’re a symbol of Artale.”
“Sphinxes don’t exist.” Mila leveled me a stare as if to sayhow many times have we been proven wrong about that?I corrected, “They haven’t been seen in a very long time if they do.”
“Neither had the pegasus or khrysaor.”
She stopped on a page that discussed how sphinxes were messengers, protectors, and advisors of Artale, and often communicated with the sprites of the Fae Goddess, Aioflyn, and delegates of the Witch Goddess of Sorcia, Thallia. The creatures were heralds of the Goddess of Death’s blood across the land.
