21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Bronwyn

Ishould have pressed Wilder harder from the start. I should have done anything I could to figure out Morozov's intents. I had thought him a devious vampire, certainly, but I had no idea his plan stretched this far. To take over the academy by turning everyone within into a vampire?

To blot out the sun?

I am used to conniving vampires; I was raised by one. My sister is another. My mother is a recent addition. I suppose that made me underestimate just how evil Morozov was because I never saw vampires as inherently evil.

I was always just so focused on my own task of gaining that spellbook. Wilder and Morozov were mere curiosities and annoyances—each in equal measure.

But I was blissfully unaware that if Morozov had his way he was going to snatch it from right under my grasp and turn me into a vampire in the process. Ahead of my time.

"Where are we going?" Wilder demands as he takes in the entrance hall to the building. The hallway opens up to a high vaulted ceiling with a massive stained-glass window above the doors that leads out to the courtyard of the academy.

I wonder if Wilder has stepped through these doors at all since arriving here. Being a vampire can greatly hinder your freedom, and I doubt anyone taught him the tricks my father learned to continue existing in the daylight. To wear layers and cloth masks pulled over his face to protect himself from harmful rays that would threaten to boil his skin.

Fortunately for us, it is night so there is nothing stopping Wilder from being able to enter the courtyard. I shoulder open the door and glance at him. "I thought you could do with some fresh air."

His mouth twists in disbelief. "We aren't leaving the academy, are we?"

"Not in a manner of speaking," I reply as I start toward the wall. The shadows of the night, normally my fellows, feel threatening. Where is Morozov? What is he planning? Does he still consider this a grand game, or has he decided to move up his timetable due to our reactions at dinner?

All I know is that I don't intend to be dismembered tonight. Or any night really. It's a policy that I tend to try to stick to.

However, we make it across the dark courtyard without any problem. The northern lights flicker ahead, reflecting on my hand as I raise it to knock on a door built into the wall.

It takes a few knocks before Sofarynn opens the door, stifling a yawn. Despite the late hour, it doesn't appear that I woke her from a sleep. She's dressed in her everyday robes, and her curly hair is no more disheveled than usual.

She pauses when she sees me. "Bronwyn?" her eyes move to Wilder, and confusion clouds her features.

"May we come in?" I ask, twisting my ring.

She opens her mouth but then snaps it shut and moves out of the way. I step into her office and slide into my usual seat. Wilder follows me in, his arms crossed tightly. He looks Sofarynn over. "You're the keeper of the books?"

"And you must be Bronwyn's fiancé," she replies as she shuts the door. I wince slightly at her words and move my hand up to massage my brow. Right, everyone still thinks we're engaged. The world is under the threat of an eternal storm in the sky, and people think I'm going to marry Wilder Zubkov. This is not what I was expecting when I came to the academy at the start of this year.

Wilder presses his lips together as he leans forward resting his hands on the back of his chair. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Sofarynn's eyes flick over Wilder as she purses her lips. "Why have you come to my room in this manner so late at night?" she asks as she wraps a portion of her robe more tightly around herself.

"I need your key," I reply rubbing my finger over the arm of my chair. I look up at her. "The one that leads to Petrov Hansimov's final resting place and where his spellbook lies."

I can't believe what I'm saying, a whole year of trying to get her trust and I'm throwing it away by just outright demanding the key?

Oh, my father would be so disappointed if he saw how easily my artfully crafted plans are just thrown out.

Sofarynn squints as she takes me in, her eyes darting to Wilder. "What are you—?"

"I need Hasimov's spellbook," I state, cutting her off.

"That's something I never thought I'd hear in my lifetime," she says with a small laugh. The smile slides off her face. "You realize I can't just hand it over to you, right?"

I push slowly to my feet. "Surely, you don't agree with it being locked away, the pages rotting, never to be read?"

She purses her lips. It appears that I struck a chord.

Perhaps my time in her company was not so wasted, after all, I know enough about her to know that she cherishes books as if they are an appendage of herself. It's something she and I have in common.

Wilder taps his finger against the back of my chair. "I may not be the best person to say this, but also if you don't give it to us, you will likely be turned into a vampire."

She whips her head to Wilder, her mouth opening as if she will scream. He holds up his hands. "Not by me. But others will not stop at stooping to such unscrupulous means."

Sofarynn's eyes flick over Wilder, likely finally taking in the slight alterations to his coloring that are commonly missed at a first glance. She shakes her head, leaning on the desk. "Great, first werewolves and now vampires."

I want to ask what she means by werewolves, but I'm too focused on getting that spellbook. I lean forward, almost out of my chair as I look at her, pouring every ounce of earnestness I have into my gaze. "Name your price, my father will pay it."

"I don't need money," she replies with a shake of her head.

I suppose I knew that already. She wouldn't be living in these dingy quarters as a lowly bookkeeper in the academy if she was searching for money. I bite down on my lip as I press further, "My father is a powerful man. He could give you anything you asked."

She gives her head a small shake, grief filtering across her expression. "There is only one thing I would desire and that is beyond anyone's grasp."

I assume she is referring to her blacksmith. Technically my father is a necromancer, but that only works with the body. It cannot bring back the soul. She would probably consider it a sacrilege for me to even mention it.

"Although…" she begins. She looks up at me, a spark of cunning filtering through her somber eyes. "My brother lives a quiet life. But there are people looking for him. Of late, they have been getting too close, asking too many questions. If your father can do anything about that…"

I straighten as a bit of hope shines into my soul. I try not to sound too eager as I say, "As a matter of fact, that happens to be his specialty."

After all, I'm still agreeing to something unseemly. Sofarynn trusts me enough to even consider giving me the key. I don't want to scare her off by my inability to flinch at shady deals.

"To clarify, I don't actually want anyone dead, but if they happen to disappear forever, I will rest easily knowing that I at least said that."

"I will pass that request on," I say although I think we both know that it won't be honored. There is only one sure way to make certain that someone disappears forever. "What is your brother's name? My father will get to work immediately hunting down his hunters."

Her mouth turns up. "His name is Taliz."

"Taliz?" Wilder whispers. "You mean, like the champion of Coldhaven?"

Sofarynn's smile says it all. I feel my jaw drop open. It's true that Taliz was an exile, he had a sister that the tales often paint as a villain. But I never actually assumed he was a real person. I thought it was a wonderfully spun tale and nothing more.

Taliz is what is sung in my mother's inn, not an actual person. Or so I assumed.

But I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. If my father is a vampire crime lord and the leader of a reclusive family of assassins, then surely men who burn villages to save them can also exist.

Wilder starts spluttering.

"I'm going to trust you," Sofarynn says with a heavy sigh.

My mouth drops open, and Sofarynn snorts. "Don't look so surprised, or I might just change my mind. The gods know I shouldn't but… you're right. That spellbook deserves to be read, the spells within deserve to be cast." She rests her hand against her chest. "Not by me, of course, I cannot wield magic. And even if I could, I promised Snorre that I would never pursue forbidden magic again after losing him."

I glance at Wilder, pressing my lips together to try to keep from showing too much excitement that would cause her to realize just how desperate I am for this spellbook. My father always taught me to temper my emotions when striking a deal. If someone sees that you are willing to do anything for something, then they might get the idea to ask for anything.

Wilder, however, looks too stunned to speak. I suppose I cannot blame him. It isn't every day that you meet the sister of a legend.

Sofarynn lifts a necklace off from around her neck and sets it on her desk. "I ask that if you find something interesting to tell me about it. I do love hearing about magic, even if I can never touch it."

She turns to her desk, grasping a few books before she turns away, striding toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I demand, pushing to my feet.

She arches her brow. "To see my brother. One time is enough to be a pawn of a power-hungry immortal, I think. If there are truly other vampires involved, then there is nowhere safer I can be than at his side." She nods to me. "Be careful, Bronwyn. I pray that your pursuit of this forbidden knowledge ends better for you than it did for me."

Then the only friend I made here at the academy walks out into the night. Leaving behind both me and her key as it sits on her desk, glistening in the candlelight.