Vanish (Firelight #2)(16)

“Miram,” Cassian says sharply, but she’s already gone.

She moves so fast, I’m not sure she didn’t just fade out into invisibility.

Cassian moves to my side and looks down at me. “I’ll talk to her.”

For a moment, I let myself soak up his nearness and take comfort from the reassuring words. Then, I catch myself and give my head a small shake. Even if Cassian means that, I can’t expect him to rein in his younger sister. Still, as I watch him take long strides out the door, I can’t help hoping he can stop her from spreading what Cassian himself had tried to keep from the pride. For my sake. But I doubt he can.

Miram was never a fan of mine. Combine that with her love for gossip and this news is probably already halfway across the township. And she’s a visiocrypter. She can make herself invisible and hide her very presence whenever the mood strikes. As much as I hate to stereotype, such draki are deceptive by nature.

What Cassian sought to spare me from is unavoidable. Everyone will know that the pride’s fire-breather gave her heart to a hunter. I might be pardoned and spared a wing-clipping, but I’ll never be forgiven, never be viewed as brethren again.

Panic surges in my chest as I listen to Cassian’s tread fade away outside. I hurry to the door and look after him until he disappears into the misty morning.

Turning back around, I face Nidia’s pitying stare. When did I become the pitiable one? That’s something new. Evidently, I’m not to be envied anymore.

Tamra looks down into her mug, unable to meet my gaze. The nervous fidgeting of her hands tells me she’s sorry she said what she did—that Az and Miram overheard.

“Hey.” I force my voice to sound normal, even cheerful. “Don’t look so sad.”

She lifts her gaze. Her eyes glisten like ice. “I’m so sorry, Jacinda. For what I said . . . that they overheard . . .”

I move, drop down beside her on the couch and hug her. “It’s not your fault.” I stroke her back in soothing circles. “None of this is your fault.”

The only person I can blame is me.

School in the pride is nothing like in the human world. We attend year-round, but never for a full day, and maybe only a few days a week depending on the course of study.

Everyone has duties and tasks to attend to in order for the pride to function. We grow various crops, leave lines in the mountain streams for fish, occasionally hunt for meat. We also repair and maintain our current structures, fence lines, and, of course, the outer wall is always cultivated to look indigenous to the wild terrain.

Even though we buy supplies from sporadic outings into the human world, the pride must be self-sufficient. Which is why, before my afternoon class, I head over to the library to do my part and resume my assigned duty.

The library detail is one of the most coveted assignments. It beats plowing a field or maintaining the pride’s sewers.

The library sits beside the school. The two buildings are attached by a breezeway. The door gives a single, muted chime as I enter, eager to see the librarian, Taya, one of the oldest earth draki in the pride. She doesn’t talk much, preferring the pages of a book to actual company, but we shared a sort of camaraderie from the years I’d been assigned as her assistant.

I’ve always found her a fount of information. She’s not simply the pride’s librarian. She serves as historian, too—responsible for recording all significant events in the pride’s Great Book.

She looks up from this book as I enter, pen poised in one hand over the mammoth leather-toiled tome. A page flips without touch, landing as gently as the brush of a moth’s wing.

She never has to actually touch the pages to turn them. As an earth draki, she has influence over any material originating from the earth. Since the pages of a book derive from trees, she pretty much doesn’t have to handle anything directly in the library at all.

She squints as I approach, the only draki I know in need of spectacles. As draki have excellent vision, I’m certain it’s a consequence of the centuries she’s spent poring over texts by dim lighting.

“Jacinda,” she says hollowly, in a tone I’ve never heard from her before. Her features don’t move, don’t give the slightest flicker. She doesn’t even rise to move around her desk. She is completely unmoved at the sight of me. And I know she knows . . . probably heard the whispers fluttering through the misted streets of the pride since yesterday.

I spent most of the day hiding, hoping against hope that Cassian was able to rein in his sister. Mom went out, though, and when she came back, I took one look at her grim face and knew that Miram’s work was done.

“Hello, Taya.” I pause to deeply inhale the musty scent of books greeting me. “I’ve missed this place.” An awkward silence hangs on the air. “So.” I attempt a smile. “What do you have for me to do today?”

Taya blinks. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Her lips purse unhappily—not because of whatever news she has to impart but because she’s the one who has to impart it. “Your position has been filled.”

“Filled?” I echo.

“That’s right.” She nods briskly.

Then I hear it. My heart sinks as a soft hum ripples through the quiet library. It’s a bland, unremarkable tune, and I instantly know who it belongs to and who’s about to round the corner.