16. Chapter 16

sixteen

K allessa knew she should care about the game. She had to win, or she and Aunt Gevene might be destitute. But the warmth of Nevander’s hand was impossible to ignore. With him, she felt solid, safe, unafraid to speak her mind. She had no fear of ridicule, unlike Dovina or her uncle. It seemed he actually valued what she said, as if it was important. When was the last time she’d felt valued by anyone?

The spell between them broke as Nevander bent to retrieve the cream envelope from the golden oak floor. “Care to do the honors?” he asked, his voice low.

She slid her finger under the flap and withdrew the embossed card. Golden script danced across the paper:

Well done, my dears, well done indeed.

You’ve found the eye to the sky, but heed!

Five more clues you’ve yet to find

Before Axan, the reaper shall relinquish his mind.

I have a spine, but I have no bones.

Many a character has called me home.

My neighbors and I are very close

Because I can’t bear to be alone .

But many are we,

And only one need ye find.

I am the key

To what lies behind.

I sit quite close to the fire

If I were alive, I’d surely perspire

My treasures live on in memories of the dead

If you think you can find me,

Your next clue will be read.

Kallessa’s mind whirled with possibilities. A spine, but no bones? A home for characters? Could it be—

“A book, perhaps?” she said.

Nevander’s warm smile sent a flutter through her chest. “That sounds like a promising start.”

“Does this mean we get to explore the library?” Finally, she’d see what a proper library was like. “Oh, I thought this day would be tedious, but it’s turning out to be delightful!”

Nevander’s rich laugh filled the room, wrapping around her like a caress. “Yes, it certainly is.” His gaze lingered on her face, igniting a tingling warmth that spread through her body.

“I don’t recall a library on the map. I wonder why?”

His expression flickered for a moment before settling into a neutral mask. “Perhaps it’s part of the challenge”.

Why was the library not on the map? Because when Nevander had carefully inked the contours of the estate onto the parchment, he hadn’t dared to inflate Wynna’s fragile hopes. Dane, Wynna’s father, had strictly forbidden her entrance into the library.

But in the two years since Ciana and Wynna’s return to the bustling Lionskye household, with its sprawling, chaotic library brimming with more books than stars in the sky, Wynna had found a literary haven where a child could get blissfully lost for countless sunlit hours.

The Ravenbluff estate library was full of leather bound first editions and tedious journals, atlases and encyclopedias. Nary a picture book to be found. Wynna wouldn’t have enjoyed it, anyway. A pang of sadness washed over Nevander. His young niece, with her curious spirit and eyes too often dulled by grief, had already endured so much loss.

“Perhaps it is not open to the public?” Kallessa mused.

These clues were surely the handiwork of Castien. Queen Lyra would never send her guests to peruse the Ravenbluff’s personal spaces. But him? He’d never felt like a guest in this house. Even as boys, Lyra had treated him just like Castien and Dane. He’d never thanked her for that. Perhaps one day he could figure out how.

“How will we find it, then?” Kallessa’s eyes, brimming with simple trust, bore into him. Trust for a simple man, not a prince of her country. The weight of his deception pressed down on him, threatening to crush the fragile connection between them.

East wing, second floor , he wanted to blurt out. Instead, he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching against the truth .

“I suppose we can do some exploring,” he offered, forcing a casual shrug. His smile felt brittle, barely reaching his eyes. “We know where it isn’t, and that’s a start.”

He gestured down the corridor, where golden light slanted through windows, painting warm rectangles on the cool marble floor.

Kallessa paused by a vast picture window, drinking in the view.

The dormant vineyard crawled over the hills, its vines stitched across the earth like veins, clinging to the last golden leaves of autumn. A serene lake shimmered in the distance, mirroring wisps of clouds drifting in the clear blue sky. And in the foreground, a hedge maze wove, whispering of forgotten paths and hidden turns.

Her breath fogged the glass as she pointed. “Oh, look. I see lots of folks out in the gardens. Is that a maze?”

Nevander chuckled, his warmth radiating beside her. “Indeed. We could try it out later, if you’d like.”

She turned, her lips quirking. “I don’t know. I’ve been told I can be directionally challenged.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Is that what they call it nowadays?”

“Among polite society,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Well, my dear, I am an exceptional navigator. We’ll explore it together.”

Kallessa faced the windows again, a frown creasing her brow. “Why is everyone outside except for us?” They hadn’t encountered another soul besides staff as they roamed the halls. Wasn’t that odd? Not that she minded. The more peace, and the less scrutiny by society, the better.

While she’d been lost in thought, Nevander had stepped away. “Good question,” he said, voice deepened with intrigue as he swung open a set of ornate double doors. “But I think I just found the library.”

The library unfolded before them, a sanctuary of order and symmetry. Two massive walls of hardback books flanked an equally massive stone fireplace that soared upward to an enormous skylight, letting in the midday sun. The scent of aged paper and old leather filled the air, mingling with the cool ashes in the fireplace.

Green velvet armchairs sat in strategic places about the room for maximum light, with mahogany side tables and desks covered with ledgers, ink pots, and scrolls. Plush rugs in maroons and golds softened the flooring, and tapestries of landscapes warmed the walls.

Oh yes, she could lose herself in here for days. “How will we ever know what book it is? Look at this place. There must be thousands of books in here.”

She roamed the room, fingers brushing against spines. Atlases and hefty tomes stood alongside smaller, more delicate volumes. Nevander stood at a grand table in the room’s heart, his tanned hands tracing over a map’s surface.

She remembered those hands gripped around her waist. That fateful night of their first meeting in the stable. When he was a dark stranger, and her, his momentary captive. The musky scent of hay and horses, his wild eyes glinting in the dim lantern light.. .

As her gaze met his, the emerald brilliance of his eyes captivated her, shimmering in the daylight, so different from the dark glow of that night. For a moment, she glimpsed that untamed wildness again, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his well-mannered society gaze and a warm smile.

“Let’s review the clue once more.” He approached with purposeful strides, and she found herself rooted to the spot, paralyzed by his presence. An undeniable aura of power emanated from him, perhaps a remnant of his years as a soldier.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” She fumbled for the folded card in her pocket. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they read the clue. Well, she attempted to, but the heat from his body made it impossible for her to focus on the words.

His voice broke through her mind, startling her. She’d been concentrating so hard on not looking like his nearness frazzled her she almost jumped.

“It mentions fire, so we can start by the fireplace. It also mentions something about the dead. I’m unsure if it refers to the subject or the author.”

She let Nevander lead, falling back to hide her flustered state. And it also gave her a fantastic view of his broad back and narrow hips. Oh, that wasn't helping with her thought processes at all. She rushed up beside him, forcing herself to concentrate on the game. Kallessa could gaze longingly at his backside later.

“I’ll start on this side,” Nevander gestured to the right, “if you’d like to search that side.”

She glanced over the vast collection of books, running her fingers along their spines. How long had it been since she’d had the luxury to sit down and read a book? Oh yes, she knew exactly how long. Five years. Those velvet armchairs looked so comfortable too, just begging someone to curl up in them.

Suddenly, her fingers froze. Beneath her fingertips, on a shelf in this foreign library, sat “The Life of a Single Heartbeat” by Tynan Respa, Dracia’s most beloved poet.

Tynan. The last time she’d seen him had been mere weeks before her life had changed forever, when he’d promised to ask her father once more for her hand in marriage. And then, she’d never heard from him again.

She had this same book under her bed at home. Had memorized every poem in the book she’d thought he’d written just for her. How foolish she’d been. He’d obviously been after her title, and she, young and stupid, had believed him. And then the same agonizing question begged to be answered again. If she had gone with her parents that fateful day, would they still be alive?

She slowly slid the slim book from the shelf, its familiar weight heavy in her hands. The dark green leather cover, adorned with elegant gold print, felt like a ghost from her past. She cracked it open to the first page and froze, seeing his handwriting on the title page.

To Queen Lyra, my most beautiful fan. Many thanks for your patronage. Tynan.

Nausea washed over her as she snapped the book shut. My most beautiful fan . The same words he’d written in her copy. Her eyes stung. What was she doing, pretending to be engaged? This could only lead to more heartache. She knew how silly a heart could be. It didn’t care about logic. The heart didn’t understand the difference between the truth and a lie .

“Everything alright?” Nevander’s voice floated to her, somehow near yet a world away.

The plush rugs had muffled his footsteps. She didn’t have time to hide the pain in her eyes. “This place has stirred up some sad memories, that’s all.”

He gently grasped her elbow, guiding her to a soft armchair. “Let’s ring for some tea and refreshments. I think I’ve found our clue.” He held a plain blue book, its cover worn and tired. She settled into the armchair, trying to focus on the present. She still needed to win this game, no matter how distracted she’d become.

Nevander handed the book to her. “I’ll be right back.”

As his footsteps echoed down the hall, she took one more glance at the wall that held Tynan’s book, then she resolutely turned her back to it. Kallessa sat there, drawing breaths that tasted of dust and lingering betrayals as she opened the blue book, finding comfort in the crisp sound of turning pages.

A cream-colored card fell out. Setting it aside, she read the title: The History of Ravenbluff Estate by Marlon Ravenbluff.

Scanning through it, she absorbed snippets about the estate’s origins, the first vineyard, and the rose granite used in its stonework. She’d just run across an interesting bit about an affair when the door reopened and Nevander returned, bearing a large silver tray laden with dishes.

She rose to help him set it down. Thick slices of golden cheese lay neatly across a platter with fresh strawberries, wedges of pears and plump dates. A crock of whipped butter and lemon curd accompanied another plate of crusty bread studded with walnuts. Her mouth watered, her stomach reminding her she hadn’t eaten breakfast .

“Where did you find all that?”

A sly grin adorned Nevander’s face, making her insides clench. “I was fortunate to find a maid outside the hall.”

After they’d eaten, they sat pondering the next clue. Nevander read it aloud.

You stand before me, book in hand

You do not see me, yet here I stand.

If I be on fire, quench my thirst,

Step through the portal. You won’t be first.

The Axan Moon

Can’t find you here,

To return from my clutches

You must have no fear.

“I have a feeling the next clue is still in this room,” Kallessa said.

“Oh?” The sweet floral scent of her hair tickled his nose as she leaned in. Being near her all day, he thought he’d be used to her intoxicating scent, but it only made him want her more.

She sipped the last drops of her tea, leaving a hint of moisture on her lips. “It still talks about the book, like we’re supposed to keep it, for one. For another, I think it’s still talking about the fireplace.”

She was stunning, her eyes aglow in the warm afternoon light. Her full lips were tinted berry-pink from the juicy strawberries they’d eaten. Her tongue darted out, leaving her lower lip glistening. He wanted to bolt over the table and taste the tart flavor on her lips. Her soft intake of breath told him she noticed him staring.

“Ah, yes.” He glanced down at the clue again.

Earlier, when he’d caught her studying him, he could’ve sworn he’d glimpsed her thoughts. That night in the stables.

It was seared into his memory. Her soft waist caught in his grasp, those dark curls draped across her shoulders as he’d crushed her against him. He missed those unrestrained curls that had been secured with pins and clips ever since. One of these days, he was going to slip every one of those awful pins from that glorious mane and watch each lock cascade down into his hands.

“You mentioned secret passageways in the estate,” her words laced with intrigue. “Could the fireplace hide one?” Kallessa’s mind seemed to be back in the game. He struggled to bring his back, as well.

She glided to the fireplace, peering up the flue. “It appears to be closed,” she called back.

He rose and joined her. If he were to have a secret door, how would he trigger it?

Kallessa ran her hands along the mantel and ornate woodwork, murmuring, “It must be here somewhere.”

Nevander leaned in to examine the dark interior of the fireplace, resting one hand against the bookshelf for support. As he peered up into the chimney, a low, grinding groan filled the air. The floor beneath them began to move, swinging in a dizzying circle. Kallessa screamed and he grasped her shoulders. They had no choice but to cling to each other until the chaos stopped. And when it finally ground to a halt, darkness enveloped them completely. Utter darkness, with not a glimmer of light leaking in from anywhere. Nevander swallowed, sparks flashing before his eyes.

“Nevander?” Kallessa whispered. Her hand lay flat against his chest.

“That was rather abrupt,” he said, his voice strained. “Can you see anything?”

“Not a thing. Is this the secret passageway?”

“If it is, there better be a lantern in here.” Nevander’s laugh sounded hollow. “I’d rather not explore in the pitch dark.”

“Neither would I,” Kallessa agreed, apprehension edging her tone. “I’ll explore this wall if you want to explore the other. That way, we can get an idea of our surroundings.”

As she stepped away from him, he heard her fingers sliding along the walls. He stepped back until he hit a stone wall and ran his hands across the uneven texture. The walls were damp and rough. He walked three paces and hit a wall, three more paces and hit another wall. A tightness was forming in his chest. Three more paces and he ran into Kallessa.

“It appears we’re in a tiny chamber, not a tunnel,” Kallessa mused. “I wonder what this was used for? A secret supply closet?” Her ramblings faded to the background. They were trapped.

Trapped.

His throat tightened as memories flooded him. A strangled gasp escaped him and he disguised it with a cough. He had to get control of himself.

“Nevander?” Her voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “Are you listening to me? ”

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. Were the walls getting closer? Sweat beaded his temple despite the clammy chill of the room. He groped at the unyielding granite, his heart racing.

“Are you alright?” Her words were muffled by the roaring in his ears.

What could he say? He was about to embarrass himself by breaking down and crying like a baby any minute.

He shook his head. No, she couldn’t see that. Because it was darker than anything he’d experienced since that night.

“No,” he choked out, his voiced scraping against the unforgiving walls.

Her hand found his, gripping his clammy fingers. “You’re shaking. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Would she ridicule him for this weakness? What did it matter now? They were probably going to die in here when the air ran out.

“Tight spaces make me nervous.” That was the understatement of the century.

She squeezed his hand encouragingly.

“I,” he began, but his voice failed him. He cleared his throat against the tightness and tried again. He couldn’t control the tremor in his voice, and he ground his teeth.

Finally he said, “I shouldn’t still be afraid.”

Her other hand rested gently against his chest, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold surroundings. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”

She didn’t understand. He’d led fleets of ships, battled countless enemies, confronted the keenest minds in courtrooms, and he was going to let this get him ?

“Tell me,” she implored. Her voice seemed filled with genuine concern. But was it sincere?

He inhaled the damp air. It felt like he was inhaling the darkness with it. But if he didn’t start talking, even just to appease her, he would start screaming until the walls fell down on their heads, finishing them off. As it was, his heart thundered in his ears and their midday meal rolled in his gut.

“I fell down an old well when I was a child of seven or eight,” he finally confessed, his words breaking the suffocating silence.

“It was in the woods on our estate. Apparently, the wood that covered it had rotted and I, being a wayward child, stepped right into it. I fell several yards down and sprained my ankle. The well was damp and musty, having dried up who knows how long ago.” He swallowed. Flickers of that day were so vague in his memory that it was hard to remember the full details of the well. “I tried to crawl up the stone walls at first, but my ankle hurt so badly I couldn’t.”

He still felt that sprained ankle on damp days.

“I called for help for what seemed like hours, the afternoon falling into evening. Then darkness fell. It was a moonless night in the woods. It felt as dark as this. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I screamed and cried half the night until I exhausted myself. Then I sat shivering, my ankle swollen and throbbing, my arms and legs bruised and bleeding. My throat was so dry it ached. I realized I might die, and to a child, that is the most horrible thought ever.”

“Oh, Nevander,” Kallessa murmured, enveloping him in her arms. Her warmth barely penetrated the icy horror freezing his soul .

“I thought I would die alone and it would be a hundred years before they found my dried up bones. I must have passed out because when I next opened my eyes, it was daylight and I heard my father’s voice calling me. I screamed with what voice I had left. Only a raspy wheeze came from my throat, but somehow, my father heard me. My father’s face leaning over that tiny opening was like the face of an angel. I don’t remember anything after that for many days. I think I had a fever. But I could never stand small places after that.” His voice trailed off.

That was a true story.

But it wasn’t the real reason he feared the cold, dark enclosure.

That memory clawed at the edges of his mind, demanding entrance. He struggled to push it back, but it was no use. The scenes rushed in, uninhibited and raw as the day it happened.

The sharp, searing pain of a bullet tearing through his shoulder during the Birazahian war. The taste of bitter, frozen earth, invading his screaming mouth as he tumbled into the foxhole.

The crushing weight of the frozen dirt burying him alive, plunging him into a suffocating darkness. His blood, hot and slick, soaking into the ground, leaving behind a bone-deep cold.

Too weak from blood loss and pain to dig himself out, he’d been trapped beneath the earth while the screams and shouts of his comrades raged around him, their deaths and horrors muffled by the mound of hard soil crushing down on his collapsed chest. Choking. Helpless. Alone.

A gasp escaped his lips. His body went rigid, heart pounding out of control as his last night on the battlefield played over and over behind his wide eyes. That was the true reason he hated the suffocating grip of darkness. It brought him back to that frozen foxhole, trapped, surrounded by death that should have been victory.

Nevander’s body went rigid, his gasps echoing in the tiny space. Kallessa’s heart clenched. She had to do something, had to pull him out of the horrors trapping his mind.

What he needed was a distraction.

Sliding her hands up his back, she molded herself against him. His thundering heartbeat reverberated through her. Rising on her tiptoes, she found the column of his neck with her lips. His heady scent of clove and cedar enveloped her like the heat of summer.

Nevander swallowed hard as she kissed him, his skin blazing beneath her touch. He tasted of crisp wind and scorching sunlight, raw and elemental. The darkness heightened every sensation—the rasp of his stubble, the salt on his skin, the tremor that ran through him. And it was… She gasped, a rush of desire leaving her lightheaded.

More. She wanted more.

A low moan vibrated in his chest as she traced a path to his ear and his muscles tensed around her. She nipped his earlobe, catching the tender flesh between her teeth. At once she was shocked by her own audacity and amazed at the pleasure of it, her body feeling languid and heavy. She dared trace her lips along the rim of his ear .

A gasp ripped from his throat and his arms crushed her against him as he bent his head. “What are you doing to me?” The guttural rasp sent shivers racing down her spine.

Rough fingertips slid into her hair, scattering pins across the floor. He tilted her face upward, holding her there for one thunderous heartbeat. Their breaths mingled, lips a whisper apart.

Nevander swore, the curse rumbling through her bones.

Then he closed that final, aching distance.

Stone bit into Kallessa’s back as Nevander pinned her against the cold wall, his solid frame unyielding in the velvety darkness. His lips crashed into hers, demanding and hungry, stealing her breath away. She clutched at his broad shoulders, fingers digging into taut muscle, as his tongue stroked into her mouth, exploring, claiming. The taste of him, spiced and intoxicating, flooded her senses. Heat bloomed in her core, spreading like wildfire through her veins as his beard scraped deliciously against her skin.

Calloused hands roamed down her sides, over the curves of her waist, igniting sparks beneath her skin. Ripping his lips from hers, his mouth blazed a scorching trail down her neck, each ragged breath sending shockwaves through her. Kallessa’s fingers tangled in his silky hair, as waves of pleasure threatened to undo her.

The darkness stripped away every inhibition society placed on her. Here, she was merely sensation, pleasure, energy. Kallessa arched against him, a breathless whimper escaping. Her legs trembled, muscles quivering with delicious tension as he wrapped his palms around her back, pulling her closer. Her feet nearly left the floor as his lips traced her shoulder blade, her head spinning with pleasure .

She pressed her palms against the rough granite behind her, trying to anchor herself to reality. Its chill was a stark contrast to Nevander’s heat that consumed her.

The wall shifted beneath her hands.

A grinding rumble echoed as the stone panel slid inward, the floor spinning in a dizzying whirl. Kallessa’s stomach lurched, her scream caught in her throat as blinding sunlight flooded her vision.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Nevander for balance as her head spun. His heart still hammered against hers, his breath hot on her cheek.

She blinked against the harsh light, the library slowly coming into focus.

And standing there, as if waiting on them, was Castien, the crown prince of Krithadea.

His mild baritone cut through the haze in her head. “Am I interrupting?”