CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 30

I inhaled the smell of ink and paper and it was glorious.

The Crowthers' library was enormous. It was easily five times the size of my family library back home. The space of the library took up two levels of the Keep. The walls were lined with books, and there were so many, tall bookshelves had been set up in rows much like a mortal library. Up above were tapestries. The images on the time-aged textile were of our gods, places I didn't know, and battlefields. Perhaps the tapestries illustrated the Crowthers' history, captured by threads and stitching.

A great wall of stained glass was set into the upper level of the library's wall that faced the inner courtyard. I slowly turned around to gaze up in wonder at the massive mural made of glass. Opposing one another was the moon in a rich sky of violet that stretched across the pane where starlight met sunshine, and a vibrant sun rose at the other end of the mural. Mid-morning sunlight poured through and slanted downward, washing the floor in watercolors of buttery yellows and soft purples.

Surrounded by the familiar world of ancient tomes and modern books, I felt more settled at that moment than I had since I'd arrived on the Crowther estate.

Sage had stalked off, sniffing out the corners of the library, when suddenly I saw a cat perched on an armchair. Its fur hackled and its spine arched as it hissed and yowled to be discovered by the beast.

"Shit, Flossy," I heard behind me.

My wraith-wolf gave a delighted bark to find prey and give chase.

"Sage!" I cried, worried for Flossy as the wraith-wolf charged, his tail wagging and silver eyes bright.

But the cat leaped from the chair, darting past in a streak of ginger and cream. It wove through Graysen's legs, leaving fur on his dark jeans, as it escaped out the library door. Graysen quickly shut the door behind him. Sage scrambled to a halt. His claws grated along the stone floor as he came to an ungainly halt. He whined low, to be denied the chase.

I tsked him.

And he gave me a disappointed huff, before shaking his misty fur and prowling away.

My gaze darted to Graysen, flitting away before he met it. Cats. Somehow it seemed weird that the Crowthers had something as ordinary and sweet as cats.

Drifting deeper into the room, my bare feet padded across the sun-warmed stone that was age-worn and pockmarked. So ancient it heralded from another era, and I felt its power, a low vibration in my bones. My wyrm might be gone, but the adamere stone called out to me, singing a soft lullaby that wormed its way into my mind, whispering that we were cut from the same ilk.

I'd spent almost as much time in our family library as I had rambling through the woodlands. I'd whiled away my days between the folds of paper, squinting at lines of ink, slowly deciphering the old language as I tried to find any clue as to what I was or the locations of otherworldly creatures who might be able to tell me what was hidden inside me. I tried not to be too excited, or too obvious, as I skirted the room looking for the history of our world captured in tomes with gilded edges.