Page 56 of Crown of Darkness
The light lowers, and then a slim young woman comes into view, scowling at me. “This is a private library that belongs to the royal family of Ravenal. And it was locked, because I was the one who locked it.”
“One of the maids directed me this way. I was looking for something to read.”
“And did they unlock the door for you too?”
I shrug. “Don’t tell me you’ve never slipped through a locked door when there was an entire treasure trove of books on the other side.”
“That is beside the point.”
Ah. A fellow book thief. “I didn’t think the crown princess would mind. She told me to enjoy the hospitality Ravenspire offered. I took that as invitation.”
“Well, the library doesn’t belong the crown princess. The library is mine,” the young woman snaps.
A royal library…. There were other princes and princesses introduced to me last night—Lucidia’s line was particularly fecund—but I don’t think I saw her face in the crowd.
“What’s your name?”
The young woman replaces the book on the shelf. “Imerys.”
“Princess Imerys? You weren’t at the ball last night.”
She steps forward and I catch a better look at her as the faelights back away.
I’m a little envious, to be honest. Her hair falls down her spine in a silken waterfall so black it almost gleams like a raven’s feathers, although some strands of it are dyed blue on the ends.
My hair is neither straight nor curly, and the second there’s any humidity in the air, it’s a mess.
Imerys has cheekbones that can cut, and there’s a touch of the Danesh Su about her features. Their empire lies to the west of the Far Isles where the fae male I once thought was my father still lives, though merchants from the empire make up a large majority of the Far Isles’ population.
“I have more important things to do than drink and dance all night.”
“I’m Iskvien.”
“I know who you are. And I know what you want.” She turns to walk away. “You need an alliance so you can take my kingdom to war. But you’re not going to find it in the library. And I’m not going to kiss your feet and offer you welcome, like my sister has, when you’re going to get my people killed.”
Your kingdom is already at war. But there’s no point saying it. “I think you and I share different ideas on the type of welcome your sister has granted me.”
It startles her.
“And what I want is a list of the Arcaedian immortals that survived the wars,” I call. “That’s all. And I hear the library here at Ravenspire is the best in the south.”
“A list of immortals?” Her footsteps stop, and she stands within a halo of light that streams down through the central core of the tower. “Why?”
“Curiosity.”
Imerys turns around.
I know her type. Iamher type. Books filled the void within my life that my sister’s loss left. Books were sometimes my only companions when my mother exiled me from the main chambers of her court.
When my favorite nanny vanished when I was eleven—or was probablymadeto vanish—I found the library at Hawthorne Castle and with it, peace. A world outside my own. Families who loved each other. Friends who existed within the pages when no fae dared extend a smile in my direction.
An escape.
Imerys can no more ignore my question than I could have, because it’s a chance to prove her knowledge and a lingering itch to share her world with me.
“There are no true immortals anymore,” she says. “The Old Ones cursed the fae to lose their immortality. Some say it was the true reason we hunted them to the edge of extinction.”
“Artemius says there were other immortals,” I reply and notice her expression warm. “I’ve read some of his work, though he never states precisely who or what cursed the fae, he mentions that Arcaedia had its share of immortals before the fae arrived through their portals.”
