Page 87 of Duskbound

Vexa had mentioned that higher-ranking members lived on the upper floors when she'd shown me to my quarters. "Hierarchy,"she'd said with a roll of her eyes. If the Generals occupied level six, then logic suggested Aether would be on five. A part of me wondered if they would have erected another tower, had Aether accepted their offer to be commander of the entire Umbra forces. The other part of me wondered why he hadn't taken it. I shook the thoughts away as I climbed past shadowed corridors. It wasn't much to go on, but it beat wandering the fortress aimlessly or asking for directions.

Finally, I reached a door with a silver plaque that simply readAether. The only one without a last name.

I knocked once, then again, pressing my ear against the wood when no response came. Of course he wasn't here. He was probably off somewhere being mysterious and brooding this early in the day.

"Can I help you?"

The deep voice came from behind me, and I turned to find Aether standing there with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Water dripped from his dark hair onto shoulders marked with void burns, trailing down his chest in a way that made my mouth go dry. I spun back around so fast I nearly lost my balance.

"Sorry," I managed, the word coming out embarrassingly weak.

"Interesting way to start the morning," he said, "though I suppose it's better than finding you trying to escape again."

He stepped past me to unlock his door, close enough that I could smell soap and rain. I jerked away, and he glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Someone's jumpy."

"Someone's underdressed," I shot back, fixing my gaze firmly on the wall.

"It's my floor." The lock clicked open. "And you're the one lurking outside my door."

"I wasn'tlurking. I was knocking."

"Ah yes, with your ear pressed against the wood. Very dignified."

I risked a glare in his direction, immediately regretting it as another droplet traced its way down his chest. "I was hoping you were going to the archives today."

"Calling in your favor so early?" He leaned against the doorframe, apparently unconcerned with his state of undress.

"You don't seem to have anything better to do, after stalkingmydoor for weeks on end."

"Aren't you supposed to be devising a plan for Urkin?" He narrowed his brow.

"Yes. Precisely why I need to visit them," I shot back.

He disappeared into his quarters, leaving the door open. I stayed firmly in the hallway, studying the intricate stonework of the ceiling.

The silence stretched until I wanted to scream. Through the open door, I caught glimpses of his quarters—spartan but neat, with maps covering one wall and what looked like weapons displayed on another.

"So, should I take your silence as a yes?" I finally asked.

"If you'll allow me to change into something more presentable. I'd prefer not to scandalize the entire tower."

Another wave of heat washed over me. "I'll just wait out here."

"Probably wise." Was it my imagination, or did his voice carry a smile? "Though you might want to work on your poker face if you're planning to negotiate peace. You're still blushing."

"I am not—" I started, then caught myself. "Just hurry up."

The walk to the archives took us across the fortress grounds, past the training yards where a few early risers were already running drills. The archive building itself rose between the fortress and Citadel—all sweeping stone and towering windows, glass stained with what seemed to be tributes to the Esprithe.

Inside, peaked wooden archways stretched overhead, creatingshadowed corridors between the tall shelves. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings filled my lungs as we entered, and something about it reminded me of Ma's collection of medicinal texts. I pushed the memory away before it could take root.

Multiple levels rose above us, connected by wrought iron staircases that spiraled up. Brass oil lamps cast pools of warm light at intervals, their glow barely reaching the vaulted ceiling. Somehow, the archives had maintained a sort of timeless beauty that the drought hadn't managed to touch.

Movement caught my eye—Talon stood at a desk near the back, surrounded by a small group of Archivists. I recognized Raven among them, his attention fixed on whatever Talon was explaining about their sorting system. At our approach, Talon looked up, his expression shifting as he noted our presence.

"Take a break," he told the others, straightening his robes. "I'll return shortly."

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