It was impossible to read in the darkness of our cell, but crawling over the page in neat black rows were intricate bands of runes.
Hungrily, I flipped through the pages, running my fingers over the lost magical language that my ancestors had mastered.
How was it that this book was here? It didn’t feel like the Watchman’s doing.
No. Something had happened when I’d opened that chest. This book had recognized my magic the same way I’d felt drawn to it.
Had Mankara’s text sought me out? Offered itself up in my time of need?
My mind raced to come up with some other explanation. I had practically no experience with the magic that flowed through my own veins — no idea what was evenpossible.
Perhaps there was a rune or a spell that could free us from this cell. If only I knew where to look.
As if in answer to my unspoken request, the book hummed in my hands so violently that I dropped it. The tattered cover flopped onto the damp stone floor, pages flying as if caught in a high wind.
I stared down at the book with a mixture of trepidation and awe. The pages fell open to a spot near the middle, and I saw what looked like an arrangement of triangles with markings I didn’t recognize.
I sighed. Even if the book was trying to help, it wasn’t as though I could do magic without any knowledge of the Coranthe runes. I had no idea what any of them meant — let alone how to use them.
That debilitating hopelessness crept in again, but I shoved it aside and concentrated.
If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the hum of magic that had called to me inside the fortress. It wasn’t mine, and yet it wasn’tnotmine. It seemed to belong everywhere and nowhere at the same time — a river of power that I could access if I could only find a way to channel it.
I focused harder on that steady buzz of power and let it fill me up. I willed it to travel down my arms to my fingertips and felt the magic respond to my unspoken command.
I could feel it humming in my veins, unrefined but powerful. It was as if the magicwantedto do what I asked. I only had to direct it.
Hands shaking, I reached out and touched a fingertip to the metal bar and watched as it simply melted away.
I jerked my hand back, and the magic receded as if startled by my sudden movement.
I stared at the floor, blinking in disbelief. Between the other solid bars was a mass of melted iron.
“Kaden.” My voice sounded strangely far away.
Kaden jerked awake, and I felt an unexpected surge of relief. He looked awful, but he was alive, hurriedly donning his mask of unflappable cunning despite his weakened state.
I didn’t have the words for what I’d done, but thankfully, I didn’t need them. His silvery eyes traveled from Mankara’s text lying on the floor to the opening between the bars of our cave. “Is that . . .”
I nodded.
Kaden blinked. A wide, feline grin broke across his gaunt face, and I grinned back.
My legs were shakingby the time I burst through the front door of the House of Guile — half carrying, half dragging his semiconscious form.
It was only by some stroke of luck that we’d emerged from the pool in Mirabella’s crypt to find the chamberdeserted. I had no idea how long we’d spent in the in-between, but night had fallen over the Quarter, and the surviving vampires must have gone out to feed.
Supporting most of Kaden’s weight, I stared up the impressive staircase with a sinking feeling in my gut.
I’d dragged him more than a mile from Mirabella’s, and my body was spent. I knew I’d never manage to get him up the steps, so I settled for shuffling him into the sitting room and dropping him onto the antique settee.
Kaden’s eyelids lifted a fraction of an inch, and his bleary gaze made my stomach clench.
“Where’s the antivenom?” I asked.
Kaden didn’t answer right away. He squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace. Then his head lolled onto the cushions, and my heart stuttered with dread.
“Kaden!” I snapped, grabbing a fistful of his soft raven hair and tugging his head upright. “Where — is — theantivenom?”
