THE THIEF OF THE SHADOWSINGERS HEART

Chapter 9

Amely's POV

"What the hell?"Cassian shouted.

What just happen? Amren and Feyre are on the floor and Rhys is behind them."Can someone explain, please?" Mor Shouted from the Kitchen. they remained on the floor and Amren began quietly laughing, her small body shaking. They looked at each other and laughed again.

"Ladies," Rhysand purred—a silent order. Are they crazy, I thought they were on the summer court. I look back at Azriel, he shook his head. Feyre helps Amren stand up and Amren snaps her fingers and they both clean and dry in an instead.

Feyre dropped the box onto the table. It thudded, and they all recoiled, swearing. Rhys crooked a finger at Feyre. "One last task, Feyre. Unlock it, please.", Feyre slid into a chair, tugging that hateful box to her, and placed a hand on top. Is the book inside that box?

Hello, liar, it purred.

"Hello," Feyre said softly. I heard about this voice before... it's like every ancient object I ever touch

Will you read me?

"No."

The others didn't say a word—oh boy this is going to be messy.

Open, Feyre said silently.

Say please.

"Please," Feyre said.

The box—was silent. Then it said, Like calls to like.

"Open," Feyre gritted out.

Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade—that is the cycle. Like calls to like.

Feyre pushed her hand harder.

Cursebreaker

it called to her, and the box clicked open.

Cassian's hazel eyes were dark. "I never want to hear that voice again." "Well, you will," Rhysand said blandly, lifting the lid. "Because you're coming with us to see those mortal queens as soon as they deign to visit," Rhys said looking at Cassian, me, and Azriel. Well, it's time.

It was not a book—not with paper and leather. It had been formed of dark metal plates bound on three rings of gold, silver, and bronze, each word carved with painstaking precision, in an alphabet I could not recognize. Rhys left it inside the box as we all peered in—then recoiled. Only Amren remained staring at it. The blood drained from her face entirely.

"What language is that?" Mor asked. Amren's hands might have been shaking, but she shoved them into her pockets. "It is no language of this world." Only Rhys was unfazed by the shock on her face. As if he'd suspected what the language might be. Why he had picked her to be a part of this hunt?

"What is it, then?" Azriel asked.

Amren stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost as if it were a miracle—and said, "It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue." I think I saw it from somewhere. The language has been carved into the walls of my cave, but it's different...

Rhysand said, "I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron's power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here ... and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it," I Never knew it was a legend, only knew that words had never been used.

It was Mor who warned, "Don't play those sorts of games, Rhysand." But he shook his head. "Not a game. It was a gamble that Amren would be able to read it—and a lucky one." Rhys Probably needs to tell people what he will use them for, I think Amren can kill him in a second.