Page 35 of Courting War
The Droma Labyrinth was a legendary Athenaeum of stolen spirits. A deadly labyrinth of secrets, forbidden magic, and books spelled and protected by monsters and Andromache herself. It was said the place devoured souls.
Kellyn grunted. He had no words, not when anxiety strokedhis throat, the vein in his forehead pulsing. A library filled with books and traps perfectly designed to thwart him.
The gods had to know his greatest weakness. Otherwise, why force him into a library?
Kellyn inhaled sharply. He didn’t know what the objective of this challenge was, but he knew deep in his bones the only way through was to enter the library.
Death before dishonor.His mantra. “Shall we go?”
“If we must.”
“Any advice?” he asked, marching ahead.
Morrigan loosed a sigh. “The three rules of the Athenaeum: eat nothing, never make a deal with an immortal, and never under any circumstance trust a nymph.”
Kellyn cleared his throat and let out a low grunt, which sounded like more of a growl. He twisted the doorknob formed from minotaur horns and stepped into the keep. It hummed with electric energy; the walls alive with enchantments. The place was ready to swallow him whole.
But he was ready to fight.
The inside smelled like a forest after morning rain: wet soil, tree oils, and fresh flowers.
The library opened to a grand entrance hall with trees smacking against walls and bookshelves. A grand staircase made from tree bark spiraled and led up to several open floors, the trees growing with it. Hedges grew along the halls and forest animals lurked amongst the tomes.
Shadows twisted through the bookshelves and latched onto anything moving, including Kellyn. As he purposefully placed his footfalls, they clung to his boots like gum. The hedges twisted and followed him as if the leaves had eyes. The place took his measure, finding him wanting.
Having no way to ground himself, he stood, unsure of what to do. It was a library with thousands, possibly millions of books.
He shuddered.
It was his worst nightmare.
Books. His nemesis.
Kellyn rubbed his left pectoral muscle for comfort where his house sigil tattoo was etched into his tawny skin. Maybe he could take strength from his ancestors.
“What do we do?” he asked, his skin draining of color.
Morrigan’s eyes were now amethyst voids—switching between blue and purple . . . it was strange but not unheard of for a person to have color-shifting eyes. There were so many magical creatures in the world that some humans were bound to come from magic bloodlines. But Morrigan’s color-shifting eyes were devoid of any readable emotion. Hollow and haunted. But her eyebrow arched as her gaze caught words cut by liquid darkness. Signs.
Signs written in a language so beautiful it was unknowable.
“This way,” she said, pulling him by the invisible chain between them.
She’dreadthe words. It seemed impossible. “What language is that?” he asked.
“Gods.”
“You read the language of the gods?” His voice spiked with surprise.
Morrigan shrugged and pulled him by the chain once more. “Yes,” she said as if it were the most insignificant information in the world. Was she magic? If so, why would she be here? Witches, vampires, and other long-lived mortals weren’t forced into the Sacrifice.
Kellyn’s fingernails bit his palms as he followed his priestess up a flight of stairs and down a hallway littered with autumn leaves and rust-orange books.
Morrigan slammed to a halt, and Kellyn stumbled out of his thoughts.
Straight ahead of them, were three pathways coated in books and greenery. But this time, there was no sign to tell the way.
Instead, there were monsters.
