Crescent (Book 1)

+ 53 +

I haven't been to a meeting with the ambassadors in over a week since Ceth claims I only slow negotiations. The protection of the library has become my new home. Every waking moment is either spent training or with my nose in the spine of a book. Moira and the servants make themselves scarce, and since I hardly leave the castle anyways, the castle swarms with ghosts of moments-passed.

The scent of thyme and coriander fills the hallways one evening, telling stories of the dinner being prepared in the kitchen. When the library doors open and reveal Moira standing in the doorway, I smile. I forget the book in my hand and stand as she walks closer. "What an unexpected surprise."

Her cheeks turn rosy, and she links one arm through mine, a lantern in her other hand as she guides me down the hall. "Unfortunately, it's not without reason."

I frown but let her guide the way. When we reach the infirmary, I think we might be going toward the glen, but we take a door toward a different hall. We walk arm and arm through the dark, the lantern the only source of light as we wind down flight after flight of musty hallways and darkened ingresses. Down the last blackened hallways, a single lantern flickers against the wall, the flame an ancient spell that banishes shadows into the corners.

Before us, a stone door quietly looms with the Shawcross crest carved into it, the lantern burning quietly beside it. The Vervalian vault. The vault, I realize, that I've been tasked with leading the tour of. Moira shivers as the lantern shines on the crest, runes flashing as light swims over it.

"What are we doing here?" my voice is swallowed up by the mammoth vault door. I've never been afraid of the dark, but something about being so far beneath the ground makes my stomach churn. I can only see one side of her face as she lifts the light and shrugs.

A face appears in the dark just over her shoulder, and my first instinct is to punch. Hard. Ceth steps fully into the light, my fist caught in his hand. Moira's hand lifts to her heart to steady herself. A growl escapes me when he grins down at us.

"Ladies," his white teeth are on full display as he glances down at me. "You're looking well. Much stronger," he comments. I shove his grip off of me, nodding towards the vault door.

"Why are you here?"

"You need me," he steps forward and presses his palm flat to the gnarled teeth of the wolf engraved in the door. Nothing happens at first. Moira stares forward, and then a low rumble fills the space. Stone scrapes stone, and the vault door shutters beneath Ceth's touch. The luminescent runes are bright enough that the lantern is practically useless now. The door opens outwards, and darkness and cobwebs greet us. Ceth wiggles his fingers. "You need my hands."

Or just your magic. The witch's voice comes to me suddenly: "Only by which its bound can it be opened."

I stride into the dark without a goodbye, and I can hear Moira trail after me. The lantern is only bright enough to illuminate the two sides of the tunnel. "Better learn your way around down there!" Ceth yells after us, but his voice echoes straight past into the nothingness ahead. The vault rumbles closed, and a sense of panic rams into me.

"You don't think he'll lock us down here, right?"

Moira swallows her own panic and grips my hand, squeezing it. "All this work just to trap you down here?" Unlikely, I consider. But I wouldn't put much past him. "This way." We follow the winding tunnel down. The air is thin as a sheet down here, and my breath comes out in shallow pants as we come to a wooden door.

The lantern flickers weakly as if the air might swallow it up completely. Moira feels her way to a lip in the doorway where a marbled wolf is poised mid-attack, frozen in stone. A twin stone guardian stands on the right, its sharp-toothed mouth open wide in a snarl. An archaic kind of magic pulses around us when the door opens, alive and rumbling. The lantern flickers in the wolf's marble eyes, and as if it snatches the flame between its teeth, the light disappears. The stone coughs, a spark trailing from the creature's mouth down its body as fire shoots out into the dark away from us.

The room is flooded with blinding light, revealing shelves and shelves of treasures. Gems and stones and hefty golden trinkets overflow from tables and chests onto marbled floors. Ceth was right to gloat.

Rainbows of color flash from bouquets of amethyst and ruby. Clusters of uncut emeralds perch on velvet displays and pillars of gold serve as counters to sparkling chalices and dancing figurines with skirts of topaz. It's almost too much to drink in, but I do. Greedily. But the glamor is lost on Moira. She only bounces her fingers lazily from one stack of jewels to the next.

"The jewels you have to show to the Glasian court are this way." I trail after her, unable to contain my excitement as we walk beneath a balcony of stone into a much smaller space with short cupboards of glittering bric-a-brac.

Moira motions to one in particular, and on the ledge sits several velvet-lined boxes. The lid to each is locked, a silver sigil stamping the false front. "Well, go on."

I blink at her. "Is there a key?"

"These spells are specific to people or titles. The more specific, the more powerful. Things like this are tied to him. And you."

Ceth used my blood to tie me to this place the day the ambassadors arrived. That's why he needed the witch. I hold my hand over the sigil, waiting. The box sighs and the lid clicks open. Moira lifts the lid, and I stare at the necklace in awe. Even in the lowlight, light whispers across the surface of the emeralds, creating the illusion that the stones are moving, breathing.

"Beautiful," Moira murmurs, and I shake away the cold sweat at the base of my neck. This cold feels different than the cold of the snow and the ice above us. This cold feels alive- weary of our presence and jealous of our warmth. I find Moira's eyes, and when I carefully grasp her arm, she freezes.

"What is it?" I ask. Her eyes are vacant, and she shivers. "Moira," I press.

"I'm sorry. I-"

Something stirs behind us, and a single crystal clatters to the ground at our feet. I half-expect to find Ceth laughing at us around the corner, but there's no sound. No movement. I crouch, reaching for the crystal only to find hoarfrost slowly creeping across its jagged edges. "Is there something down here?"

Moira snatches the crystal up, setting the boxes back in their places as she leads us back to the entrance. The flame behind us sputters out, crawling toward us foot by foot until we disappear into the tunnel.

I hold the lantern this time, light swaying with every step. Our pace quickens when another sound echoes off the walls behind us. Somehow, the tunnel shrinks, the shadows on the walls closing in as we move. The vault door finally appears, but it remains perfectly sealed as I press my palms to it.

"Ceth!" I hiss, Moira's panting loud in my ear. Another sound echoes toward us, but I refuse to look back. I slam my hand against the stone, cursing him as hoarfrost claims the iron handle of the lantern in my hand. "Ceth!" I call this time.

Cold fingers slip beneath the cuff of my sweater, and I nearly cry out when the stone rumbles and the door finally opens. The frost melts away, and those frigid hands slow their ascent. Ceth's green eyes take us in, grin ever-present, as I try to shove Moira ahead of me. "Didn't get too cold down there, did you?" he taunts as if he knows about whatever frigid beasts might be behind us. I don't stop myself from shoving past him.