Page 32 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
I open my mouth, choking on other people’s words before I can get out my own: “We can’t go past the barrier.”
“What happened?”
I don’t answer at first. Not because I don’t want to. There’s a part of him that already knows. A certainty stirring in his question.
Perhaps he’s making an incorrect assumption. Perhaps he’s keeping things from me. Whichever it is, I anticipate that he will share his secrets when I share mine—that’s what a decent person would do.
I’m not sure I believe that Lucian is a decent person.
Every second I remain silent, his suspicion simmers beneath the surface, and I can’t help but wonder how much he truly understands.
Has he learned something about my ma?
“A pernipe attacked me,” I spit out. “I killed it.”
His eyes widen, and I’m delighted by his shock and sudden appraisal. He looks at me as if I’ve changed before his eyes—a delicate seed has sprouted into a ferocious thorn.
I think I’d like the worlds to feel this way about me—to see me as strong. It’s no secret that the Eunoia are regarded as weak.As if the balance and peace we accomplish is not a worthy cause for life.
I disagree with that. But I don’t think I believe there’snevera reason to fight—unlike most of the Eunoia.
There’s a time and a place for it, the way there was today with the pernipe. Even if every Eunoia would have run, I’m glad I stayed to fight.
“All right,” Lucian says with a nod, the hint of a smile curving his lips. “I have another location.”
We walk through the halls once more, stopping at Lucian’s suite. When he calls for Azaire, I stay silent.
Azaire exits, glancing at me and searching for some kind of connection. I can’t give him any, and he quickly understands, looking away.
The emotions of the two boys are abundantly clear. One is confused but hungry. Insatiably so. He believes knowledge will fill a pit within his soul. The other feels quiet.Azairefeels quiet. I like that. I cling to that, and my heart finally slows. It’s been beating like a lone leaf trembling in the wind for days now.
We walk upstairs to the Royal floor. As far as I know, it’s never used. I stifle a sneeze as I sit, running a finger along the table, collecting a pile of dust and revealing the dark wood beneath.
“I found this in my mom’s study.” I pull the book from my bag. “It’s glamoured.”
“How do you know?” Lucian asks.
“For one, this book is written by Shenlin, not Marto. Second, it doesn’t feel like my ma or anything else in her study.”
Holding it feels like carnage incarnate. I don’t know how else to describe it.
“Can I see it?” Azaire asks me.
“Yes.” I quickly hand him the book, avoiding his fingers.
Azaire examines it. I try not to examine him. It looks so natural in his hand. He’s always the shyest kid in class, perhaps second to me. But when he says, “They didn’t get the book right,” I have the feeling he could answer any question asked of him.
“Whoever glamoured it was in a hurry,” I add, but it’s only a guess. “Whatever it is was valuable enough to not warrant destruction.”
“Or it was indestructible,” Lucian says.
“Why wouldn’t they just take it?” I ask. It’s an open-ended question. I don’t expect him to answer.
But Azaire does not disappoint. He mutters, “Things are best hidden in plain sight,” and hands me the book.
I smother the smile that creeps up my lips.
“There’s more.” I clear my throat.
