𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Seventy-Six

Two days. Two days we had waited after Amren had brought us to where she had concluded the sight of the book to be. She was right, of course. It was Amren, after all.

    I'd known the book was where she said the second we neared the place. My magic sang, calling out to its kin, just as it had with the necklace back in the vault, only magnified tenfold.

    I felt it crying out to me like an old friend. Begging me to set it free. I hadn't been able to shake the feeling since. Every moment I wasn't occupied, my thoughts strayed to the damn Book, I wanted to go to it. Like there was a rope tethered to me as it pulled me toward it.

    Rhys and I had spoken like friends. Colleagues. As though nothing had transpired between us in those fleeting moments two days ago. I wasn't even sure anything had happened at that point.

    I hoped it hadn't.

    It had been foolish of me to act on impulse. To risk what I had. Rhys and I were in a mutual agreement to prevent war. That... whatever it was. Would have merely been a distraction in the long run.

At least that's what I'd been telling myself.

    When the sun had finally descended the horizon on the night we were to get the book, I'd merely told Tarquin I was tired and retreated to my rooms.

    We'd be gone before breakfast—though, They didn't know that. Rhys had mentioned returning to the Night Court tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps it would be no surprise were we to leave earlier. He'd leave a note about urgent business that needed to be attended to, thanking Tarquin fro his hospitality, and then we'd vanish home—to Velaris, and, hopefully with the book.

In the last few days, we'd learned where the guards were stationed, how their rotations operated, gaps in their routines, and where their posts were on the mainland too.

    And when Tarquin had kissed my cheek goodnight before I'd left for my rooms, my guilt was nearly overwhelming.

    I shouldn't have felt such guilt about the fact. I'd done so many monstrous things this was tiny in comparison, and yet I felt awful.

    Rhysands hand on my back was the only thing that kept me from begging for Tarquins forgiveness. Serving as a reminder as to why we were here in the first place.

    I went to my room. Found my Illyrian fighting leathers. Align with a belt of Illyrian knives and daggers.

    And I dressed for battle once again.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: Short chapter for now, simply because I wanted to announce that the first chapter and graphics are out for Game of Aces!