Page 94 of The Arrow and the Alder

Alder chewed on his lip, not liking Abecka’s plan, but finding it impossible to argue.

“Then I am coming with you,” Josephine said.

“Absolutely not,” Alder said without hesitation.

“No, listen, I—” Josephine started.

“There is nothing to listen to. You’re not going with her. You’ll come with me.”

Josephine took a small, placating step toward him. “Alder. None of you can touch the coat, butIcan.”

Alder wanted to argue, but facts were stubborn things. “Then I am coming too.”

“No,” Abecka said, shaking her head. “You must lead the others to safety. Josephine and I will retrieve the coat and meet you outside.”

Everyone looked to Alder, but his attention was only on Josephine. His little arrow. One that had pierced straight through his flesh to his withered heart, and revived it. His gaze slid over her face—a face that had grown so precious to him—and for a second, he considered kissing her. Here, now, before all these people.

“Go, Alder,” Abecka warned. “We don’t have much time before those guards wake and sound the alarm.”

Alder turned, motioning to the others before trudging onward, thinking with every step that he should have kissed her anyway.

“Ready?” Abecka asked, after drawing enchantments of glamour on Seph’s brow, in blood. It was supposed to hide them from sight, though Abecka hadn’t the time to hide them from a person’s other senses, or the energy. So they would still need to be careful, and Abecka’s injuries made them slow.

Seph slung her bow across her shoulders, careful not to smear the enchantments. She’d found her bow on a weapons’ rack near their exit, where Alder had found his. “Yes.”

“Stay close; stay quiet.” Abecka waited a moment more before cracking the door open and peering into the hall.

Seph’s heart pounded and her palms sweated.

“Let’s move,” Abecka whispered as she staggered out into the hall. Rather than go left, as Alder had gone, Abecka turned right, moving through a low archway and into a part of the sanctuary Seph had never been. The halls were smaller here, but voices sounded around the corner up ahead, and they both ducked into the shadows until the robed archivists passed. When it was safe, Abecka hobbled forward again.

She led Seph through a smaller door and up a stair that hugged the innards of a tower, though she had to stop a handful of times to catch her breath. They reached the top, pushed through another door, and strode across a high bridge protected by a roof. Callant spread out far below them, and a hungry wind snatched at Seph’s hair as they strode to the small iron-ribbed door standing at the other side.

There, Abecka stopped. “Basrain’s chambers,” she whispered.

“What if it’s not here?” Seph asked.

“Let us both hope that it is.” Abecka closed her eyes and raised her palms to the door. Meanwhile, Seph drew an arrow from her quiver and set it upon her bow, just in case the room was occupied. Abecka said something below Seph’s hearing, and seconds later, that increasingly familiar power tingled over Seph’s skin, particularly at the ring upon her hand.

The door cracked open.

Abecka sighed and wiped her brow, fatigued from theeloitshe’d just spent.

“Let me check first,” Seph said, and she pushed past Abecka to peer into the room, bow ready.

A large antechamber spread beyond, illuminated by floating lanterns and a blazing hearth, but there was no sign of life. Emboldened, Seph shoved the door open with her foot, her bow still at the ready as she stepped into the room, out of the cold and wind while Abecka followed. The hearth was nearly as tall as it was wide—so large Seph could have easily slept within—and if she’d thought Callant’s halls were stuffed with history, Basrain’s personal chambers put them all to shame. His walls spilled over with books and artifacts, all of which pooled onto the floor because he simply didn’t have room to house them. A wide desk stood amidst the hoard, smothered in paper and open books, reminding Seph of a sinking ship.

There was no sign of the coat.

Abecka tiptoed toward a narrow door at the back of the antechamber, pushed it in, and stepped inside as if following some invisible thread. Seph cast one more glance about the cluttered room before following.

Basrain’s bedchamber was dark. Draperies were pulled shut over what appeared to be large windows, and an enormous four-poster bed stood off to the side. The furniture was exquisite, hand carved and smooth, and Abecka’s hand trailed every surface, as if feeling witheloitinstead of touch. Finally, she knelt beside an armoire and opened a low drawer.

Where the coat gleamed.

Seph’s lungs expanded with relief, and for a moment, the two of them stood in wonder, gazing upon this ray of sunshine trapped in a drawer.

“It’s going to be difficult for you to carry both the coat and your bow,” Abecka said.

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