King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(74)

“Of course,” he said. “But anything can become a weapon in the wrong hands, even people. The truth remains that our world suffered far less when magic was present. There were fewer droughts, less hunger, and more peace.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Were you alive then? When the High Coven oversaw magic?”

“No,” Zann replied. “I was born much later, but I am an archivist, which means I have read many accounts of that era.”

“Could I read those accounts?”

“Of course,” Zann said.

“While you find those volumes, I will take the queen on a tour,” Lothian said.

“Perfect. I will meet you in the great room,” Zann said, and we watched his lithe form retreat into the back of the stacks.

Once he was gone, I looked at Lothian. “Are you…his vassal?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. We are…a new pairing. I think it’s going well.”

I resisted the urge to smile as he began his tour on the first floor.

“This is the original library. The first king of Revekka only had a few dusty volumes that amounted to a work journal and ledger. It was his brother who began the first collection.”

“Who expanded the library beyond the first floor?”

“King Adrian,” Lothian replied.

“To make room for his spoils?” I asked.

“If that is how you choose to see it,” Lothian said. “But we have been tasked with preserving them, and when the countries rebuild, we will go in and craft their libraries.”

Well, that was something.

The second floor was dedicated to biographies, poems, plays, and fictional stories gathered from countries across Cordova and the islands.

“Do you have anything from the Atoll of Nalani?” I asked, hopeful.

I knew very little of my mother’s home country, only that when people saw the color of my skin, they knew I was part islander. One of the things I mourned along with her was the loss of her culture. I resented knowing nothing of their traditions and always wondered if my love for the sun came from her. My father refused to discuss it with me, saying it was too painful for him.

“I will look for you,” Lothian promised. “And if not, I will secure as many items as possible.”

It was the third floor that held most of my interest as it was dedicated to the history of Revekka.

There were rows of black-bound books and rows of red ones.

“The black are histories from the Dark Era, the red are from other countries.”

Lothian led me to the great room. The far wall was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows; the ceilings were high and crowned with carved crossbeams, and lit sconces ran the length of the room on either side. A large rectangular table took up most of the space, and it was there that Zann stood with a series of stacked books and loose papers.

“Much of what you will find here are personal journals of common folk who lived during the Burning,” Zann explained. “It is a unique perspective. One, I imagine, many who live south of us are not aware of.”

“How did you come by these?” I asked, pulling a loose piece of parchment toward me. The writing was spidery—long loops and pointed lines.

“When the Burning began, items that professed criticism of Dragos were considered propaganda. Anyone caught with such items was accused of sorcery and killed, so the people of Revekka began to hide their journals however they could—within the brick of their fireplaces, buried in their gardens.”

“Dragos’s campaign against witches was mostly just an excuse to murder his enemies,” said Lothian.

It took me a moment to make out the letters on the page I’d pulled toward me, but soon my eyes adjusted and I read:

Dragos’s witch held another Reaping today. She claims to possess no magic and yet professes to sense it in others. Today, she pointed to anyone who accused her of witchcraft, and they were all burned in the square. These are dark times.

I looked at Lothian and Zann.

“Dragos’s witch?” I asked. “Ravena?”

“Yes,” said Zann. “She was excommunicated from High Coven for her support of Dragos’s agenda. Of course, when it came to the Burning, he protected her.”

I was not so surprised now that Adrian had made it his mission to find her.

Zann took me through a stack of items he’d pulled from his archives, organizing information by type. Most of them were journal entries and letters, and some were sketches depicting momentous events like the first night of the Burning. I found it horrific, maybe because I feared fire so much, but the series of images before me were ones from which I could feel the terror, woman after woman bound and burned at the stake. I knew from what I had already learned that there were thirteen members of High Coven, but here there were only twelve drawings.

“Someone is missing,” I said.

Lothian looked over my shoulder. “Ah, yes. Yesenia of Aroth. Dragos blamed her for the High Coven’s insubordination, so he forced her to watch each member of her coven die. She was last.”

“Was she their leader?” I asked.

“No, but she was appointed by High Coven as his court advisor,” said Lothian.

“I thought Ravena was,” I said, confused.

“She came after Yesenia was imprisoned. To the public, she claimed to have the ability to identify witches by sight, which meant she condemned anyone she did not like. She was truly evil.”