A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(36)

“Mari, how do you even know that?”

“I read it in a medical text,” she shrugged.

This woman was a wealth of knowledge. She—

My breath caught in my throat.

A medical text.

Could that be it?

I searched the shelves around me until I saw it, and made a beeline for the section marked ‘Medicine.’ Our small town had none of the resources of this castle, such as a library like this that must have been imported from the bustling capital, and surely other cities over the decades, too.

“How could I have been so stupid to only think of this now?” I said to Mari, who trailed behind. It should have been my first thought in a castle such as this one.

“Think of what?” Mari called after me, before being met with a loud hush from the woman in spectacles.

But I had already found what I was looking for. Row after row on various illnesses, ailments, and their cures. If there was anything that could help my mother, it was within these pages.

It wasn’t even as terrible a plan as some of my others this week had been—do a decent job here, heal the soldiers, learn to fight. And all the while hunt for a cure for my mother. Once I found it, I could insist King Ravenwood get it to her, or I’d threaten to stop working for him.

“Mari,” I spun to her, true hope alight in my chest for the first time since I left Abbington. “Will you help me? I know it’s a lot but—”

“There are three things I love in this world. Reading, a challenge, and proving others wrong.”

I laughed, bright and loud. “And helping people?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “That too.”

***

The afternoon had crept into night as we flipped through over half the books in the section. When my eyes had become so tired of medical jargon that I could barely hold them in a squint, and we hadn’t found anything of use, I stood on wobbly knees and promised Mari I’d come back tomorrow morning before my work in the apothecary. Then I had made the treacherous walk down the stone stairs.

When I reached the hallway of oil paintings, I spontaneously turned right, inspired by my dedication to leave no stone in the castle unturned. Actively exploring the castle in pursuit of any knowledge that could help me had felt much better than cowering in the apothecary.

The new, darkened hallway was aglow with iron candlesticks and chandeliers, and I willed myself to be brave. Shadows couldn’t hurt me. Neither could ornate stonework or hushed whispers from hidden enclaves.

One foot in front of the other—that was all I had to do.

At the end of the winding passage stood lofty, night-dark doors that were flanked by four sentries.

A curse bellowed through them and into the hall, stunning me and stealing the air from my lungs. That low voice was all too familiar, and I couldn’t help the undiluted terror that pinched in my gut at the sound. Even the guards in their leather-harnessed armor and skull-like helmets flinched.

Every cell in my body urged me to run in the other direction. Away from that lethal roar. But maybe I could hear another snippet of the King’s struggles with the seer if I stood by and listened…

I’d just take a few steps closer…

The massive black stone doors swung open and a sobbing, blubbering mess stormed out and barreled directly into me. I stumbled backward, my ankle rolling in on itself.

“Vengeful bloody monster is going to get every last one of us fucking killed.”

The force of the whimpering man nearly sent me to the ground—he was huge. At least six feet tall, built like a stack of bricks, and sniveling like an overtired toddler. I was not going to stick around to find out what King Ravenwood had done to reduce this mountain of a human into a puddle of tears.

I turned on my heel before hearing the king’s voice boom out into the corridor. “Well, look who it is.”

Shit.

Despite the acid burning in my veins, I knew better than to run away from him. The looming threat of the dungeon was only a fraction of what he was capable of.

I turned and lifted my chin.

Walking into King Ravenwood’s throne room was like stepping inside a thundercloud. Black and gray stonework made the room feel cavernous, and the twisted throne he sat upon was a monolith of carved black vines. Torches lit the room in columns of flickering light, but there was no hiding the harshness of the space, which was only amplified by the King’s dark expression.

I forced a simple curtsey at King Ravenwood’s feet, despite the way it soured my stomach.

He arched a single brow, his usually sparkling eyes weary this evening.

“What were you doing out there? Miss me already?”

“So, not such an insightful king,” I mumbled.

I really had to get a lid on my anger, but I couldn’t help the fire that raged inside of me every time he spoke. And today was especially painful. He was in such a position of power—legs spread, jaw relaxed, a hand adorned in silver rings slung casually over one arm of his throne.

The self-satisfied prick was practically begging for my barbs.

But the guards behind him fell deadly quiet, and I recognized the blond soldier who snapped at me in the infirmary step forward with lethal intent, his green eyes promising murder.

I swallowed, considering the young, stoic soldier. He had chased his own King down that day, though Ravenwood hadn’t actually been an escaped prisoner… Why had he run after him?