Page 6 of Lightningborn

She had to be missing something. Maybe information about the Ancient Ones wasn’t in the Uncontrolled Magics section. Though she had no idea where else it could be.

But the head librarian might.

Gem drummed her fingers against the table in annoyance. She didn’t like asking for help. “Fight your own battles,” her father had always told her. “Don’t rely on others to save you. Learn to save yourself.”

But she wanted information on the Ancient Ones, and looking for it herself was getting her nowhere. With a sigh, she picked upJoffrey’s Accounts of Magical Mishaps, 1402–04, tucked it under her arm, and went downstairs.

As she approached the large mahogany desk in the corner, she could see Head Librarian Hagda’s eyes, already peering over a book at her. They continued to watch her suspiciously until she stopped at the edge of the desk.

“Gemillia Gallecia.” Miss Hagda’s voice was flat as she lowered the book, still not smiling. Gem had no idea why the head librarian didn’t like her, but she wasn’t going to let herself be scared off. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, Miss Hagda.” Gem stood a little straighter, raising her chin. “I’m looking for information on the Ancients.”

She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she saw the librarian’s thin lips tighten. “And where did you hear that term?” Miss Hagda questioned.

“From this book.” Gem held upJoffrey’s Accounts of Magical Mishaps.“Page 216. There was a paragraph that mentioned something called an Ancient One, but I can’t find any more information about them.”

“That book was misshelved,” Miss Hagda snapped. Quicker than thought, she reached over the desk and plucked the tome from Gem’s hands. “Students are not supposed to have access to this book,” she said firmly, placing the book well out of Gem’s reach. “It is from the restricted wing of the library.”

“Restricted wing?” Gem didn’t even know the library had a restricted wing. “Where is that?”

“Nowhere that should concern you, Miss Gallecia,” the head librarian replied. “It is not a place for students.”

“Why not?” Gem asked. “Isn’t the library a place for learning? Why would knowledge on the Ancients be restricted? Who are they?”

“As I said, that information is not available for students,” Miss Hagda insisted. “Return to your studies and put it from your mind, Miss Gallecia. You shouldn’t…”

She trailed off, eyes going wide as she looked at something over Gem’s shoulder. Blinking, Gem turned around, and her heart sank.

A man stood a few paces away, a gnarled whitewood staff in one hand, the blue storm crystal affixed to the top glittering in the dim light. He was bald, with a hooked nose and extremely bushy eyebrows that bristled like white caterpillars over his dark gray eyes. He wore simple blue robes, unembellished like the first-years’ tunics, but no one in Gallecia would mistake him for a simple student. His station was unmistakable.

“A-Archmage Aetrius,” Miss Hagda stammered behind Gem. “This is a surprise. We weren’t expecting you.” She paused as the leader of the kingdom’s storm mages turned piercing gray eyes upon Gem. “I assume you are here for Miss Gallecia?”

Of course he would be. The archmage of the kingdom wouldn’t be standing there, staring at her, if he were not. Gem sighed and took a few steps forward to face the ancient storm mage, the sinking feeling in her chest spreading to the rest of her body.

“Did my father send you?” she asked.

Archmage Aetrius gave a single, grave nod. “He did,” he replied in a voice rustier than old nails. “And I am afraid we must leave immediately.”

“Of course,” Gem muttered. There was no fighting this summons. When her father called, you had to go. “Should I get my things?”

“It is already taken care of. There is a carriage waiting outside to return us both to the palace.” Archmage Aetrius did not smile. A billowy sleeve lifted as he held out a withered hand. “Come, then, Princess. The king is waiting.”

CHAPTER

THREE

Aboom rattled the entire hut and jerked Remy awake. He bolted upright in his hammock, overbalanced, and flipped over, landing with a splat on the floor. Mud and cold water soaked his clothes, shocking him even more fully awake. Standing up, he gazed around, seeing blinding flashes of purple lighting the sky outside, making his blood chill.

A spell storm.

Normal storms were bad enough. Strong gusts of winds could blow ships off course and send floating chunks of rock careening into everything in their path. Lightning could damage homes, blast things apart, and set ship sails on fire. But a spell storm was catastrophically dangerous. Normally, the lands were safe from the Maelstrom raging below. But on rare occasions, a squall would flare up with screaming winds and sizzling lightning, sweeping across the islands for miles. This was called a spell storm, and everything in its path was at risk. Strange things would often fall from the sky or go hurtling through the air, everything from daggers to frogs to massive sky whales. Magical lightning could strike unexpectedly, with bizarre results, bringing trees to life, turning creatures inside out, or changing a house into a shambling, ravenous monster. Whenever a spell storm hit, the only thing you could do was seek shelter, preferably underground, to wait it out. And hope that everything was still there when it was over.

A flash of purple light lit up the room again, and another boom made the ground tremble. Remy rushed to one of the boarded-up windows and peered out, squinting and shielding his eyes against the constant flickering light. Through the slats, he could see the roiling sky above, the flickers of purple lightning crawling in the belly of the clouds. The dark edge of the storm was coming right for him, and his stomach clenched. If any of those lightning strands hit his tiny hovel, it would blow the house, and probably him, to pieces.

I have to get out of here!

Staggering from the window, he fled outside.

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