Page 22 of Bound By Stardust
My thoughts kept straying to the things I’d be doing if I were home in my cozy cottage. Probably making notes of how much stardust I had left. Grandmother had a habit of keeping a written account of everything, including treatments, healing remedies, and payments received.
I paused.
What if the Masters kept a similar account of the chosen ones? Wouldn’t they have a room where those records were stored? If so, Drazhan might be able to share some knowledge regarding it, and at last, I’d find out more, perhaps even discover the secrets the fae knew.
Climbing back into bed, I resolved to wait until Drazhan returned.
I leaned back against the pillows, and the next thing I knew, I awoke to beams of sunlight dancing on my face.
Light shone in from a circular window, the only one in the room, as though light was not something the Masters preferred. Pulling on my robe, I strode toward the wardrobe to pick out something to wear.
“There she is,” Drazhan said.
I peeked over my shoulder as I opened the wardrobe. Drazhan appeared, effortlessly handsome as usual, dressed in emerald edged with golden swirls. A gilded mask was by his side, as if he expected the door to burst open any moment.
Standing, he leaned against the doorway, watching me.
I bit back my smile and returned my focus to the clothes. “I have an idea,” I announced.
“Is that so?”
“We are allowed to leave this room, aren’t we?”
Drazhan shrugged. “Within reason.”
“I assume there is a room of records here? A place where written accounts are stored?”
He nodded. “There is, but for the most part, it is off-limits.”
I picked out a dress and faced Drazhan, gesturing to his mask. “You aren’t just Drazhan anymore, though; I’m sure you’ll think of a way for us to access it.”
He grinned. “Asira, I do believe you’re brilliant.”
I flushed and headed toward the washroom to dress.
* * *
The week fellinto somewhat of a routine, the night of the banquet drawing ever closer while Drazhan and I snuck about the palace, searching for clues.
My favorite place was the archives. Drazhan’s lofty status as one of the Masters granted him access, or rather, it was Iscariot’s mask that was the key. He was allowed to come and go as often as he pleased, and he snuck me in three days in a row.
The archives were not very organized, with scrolls, stacks of paper, and unbound books overflowing everywhere. Some of the Masters worked there, illuminating texts, copying down older records, and working by large windows that let in plenty of light.
I did my best to avoid them, and even at times sent Drazhan away under the guise that it was easier to stay hidden without him there. I knew he feared for me, even though I wore a vial of stardust around my neck, as promised. I had the sense that Drazhan knew more than he’d shared with me, but I wanted to unravel the truth for myself.
On the third day, I discovered a scroll with details about the war and references to the fae. There was one small problem: only half of it was written in a language I understood. The other was in some ancient text. I bit back my anticipation, hoping that Drazhan would be able to read it. I was sure the answers lay there, hidden in the text.
14
Drazhan
Asira paced as I read the words of the scroll out loud to her, translating slowly to ensure I inferred the correct meaning. I waited patiently while she listened, wrinkling her nose as I attempted to discern a deeper meaning.
“There’s nothing here,” I said at last, re-reading the last paragraph. “The only mention of the fae and the war is that they laid their hands upon the Masters and damned them. No mention of a secret.”
Asia’s shoulders slumped. “I was sure I had something, but you’re so sure that they dislike stardust. Why?”
I shifted, glancing at the corner of the room where the chest had been. A few nights ago, I’d been able to sneak Iscariot’s body out of the room and into the tunnels. Beyond that, it was too dangerous to move him, too many comings and goings. I still worried that someone would discover him, and I certainly didn’t want to show Asira his body as proof. Still, she was right: we needed proof.
