“You need to find a way to get more support now,” I say.
She rolls her eyes, probably because I’ve stated the obvious. I’m about to cut off whatever smart remark she’s going to say by pointing out how human her eye rolling is, but her mouth snaps shut. She stares at me silently. I frown as the seconds tick by, then raise an eyebrow.
“Are you okay?”
“Come with me,” she says. Then, without explanation, she walks out of the room.
THIRTEEN
ANDUR RISES FROM the desk as Lena strides through the antechamber.
“Stay here,” she barks at him.
He sends me a questioning look as I hurry after her, but I just shrug in response. I have no freaking idea what she’s doing.
“Where are you going?” I ask, when we step into the corridor outside Lena’s apartments. The guards standing to either side of the double-doored entrance straighten when they see her.
“Do you need assistance?” the taller fae on the left asks.
She doesn’t answer either of us. She just turns to the right and keeps walking. I alternate between a jog and a fast walk.
“Lena—”
“You said I should get more support,” she cuts me off. “That’s what I’m doing.” She doesn’t even glance over her shoulder when she speaks. She moves down the wide corridor in long, confident strides.
Confusion travels along my life-bond with Kyol. I don’t know if I’m projecting the emotion or if he is, but I can’t do anything to clear it up. Lena isn’t slowing down, and I don’t know where she’s going.
No, I do know where she’s going. A short staircase takes us to the entrance to the palace archives. Lena and her guard enter without hesitating, but I linger in the doorway. I knew the palace archivist. He was one of the few fae I considered a friend when I worked for the king. Trusting Kavok ended up being a mistake, though. When the rebels captured Tylan, a high-ranking remnant, Kavok betrayed us, freeing the fae and escaping with Paige and Lee.
Bracing myself, I cross the threshold. Then pause. The atmosphere inside the archives feels the same as the corridor. There’s no change in humidity or air pressure like there was the one time I entered before. But then, of course there’s not. Kavok was the one who magically regulated all of that. Since he’s gone, the archives aren’t being maintained the way they should. If she doesn’t want to lose all the history documented here, Lena needs to find a replacement for him, someone who can control the environment and keep the papers from deteriorating.
Lena stops at a large glass display set against the wall at the back of the room. She tries lifting the top, but it doesn’t budge. That doesn’t stop her, though. Without hesitating, she lifts her hand then makes a slamming motion. I feel the atmosphere shift as she harnesses the air, then the glass shatters without Lena’s hand coming close to touching it.
Heedless of the sharp glass, she grabs a heavy tome, then places it in my arms.
Reflexively, I keep hold of it though I nearly fall forward at the unexpected weight of the book. It’s oversized and leather-bound, but I can’t read any of the Fae written on its cover.
“What is this?” I ask. Similar books are hidden beneath the black bottom of the display case. Lena takes two of them out, then adds them to my arms. After she does, she tosses a pen to the floor. It’s black and carved with symbols.
I realize what these books must be, so I amend my question. “What are you going to do with them?”
She meets my gaze. “I’m losing it.”
“Your mind?” I ask, surprised she’s admitting to it.
Her eyes narrow. “The Realm, McKenzie. I’m losing the Realm. But I refuse to hand it over to the high nobles without a fight. These books will be my first true swing.”
She drops two more heavy tomes into my arms, then carries the last one herself, leaving the archives as quickly as she entered them. Curiosity drives me to follow her. The books we’re holding are the ledgers Hison mentioned, the ones Atroth required every fae to sign. Their magics—at least, the magics the fae decided to admit to—are listed inside of them.
The top ledger on my stack nearly slides off when I trot down the steps leading into the sculpture garden. It’s almost noon here, so the open-aired courtyard is crowded with Court advisors and the high nobles’ assistants. I recognize Lord Raen, Kelia’s father and the high noble of Tayshken Province. I’ve barely spoken to him since Kelia was killed. He hasn’t taken her death well. They were estranged, and he didn’t have time to make amends.
“Lena?” Trev’s voice cuts through the air. He turns away from the fae he was talking to, his gaze tracking Lena as she crosses the white-tiled floor.
“Not now,” she says without so much as a hitch in her stride.
Trev’s gaze shifts to me.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, “but you might want to”—I run a few steps to keep up with Lena—“to come with us.”
He mutters something to the fae standing beside him, then jogs to catch up with me.
“What are those?” he asks, when the top book almost slides off my stack again. Instead of shifting it back into place, I shove the heavy tome into Trev’s chest. His breath whooshes out of his lungs in an oomph.
“These are the magic ledgers,” I say. “I don’t know what she’s doing with them.”
By the look on Trev’s face, he doesn’t know either.
“Lena,” he calls after her. She leaves the sculpture garden, heading into the southern wing of the palace. When she takes a straight path to the huge, double doors that mark the main entrance, knots form in my gut. Now I know what she’s going to do, and it’s either a brilliant idea or a foolish one.
“Open the doors,” Lena orders as the guards double tap the pommels of their sheathed swords in a salute. There’s a smaller, more practical door to the right she could leave through, but if my hunch is right, Lena intends to make a scene.
“A crowd is gathered on the plaza—”
“Good,” she interrupts the guard. He glances uncertainly at the other fae standing sentry.
“Lena,” Trev tries again, this time jogging to get in front of her. “You can’t leave the palace like this. It’s dangerous.”
“No one’s expecting me,” she says, sidestepping him.
Trev places a hand on her shoulder. “You need more guards.”
She freezes, and an icy silver gaze locks on the hand that’s touching her. Trev goes still as well, looking at his hand as if he’s not sure how it got there.
He snatches the hand away, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Fear? No, that doesn’t make sense. Lena isn’t the type of person who’s going to say “off with his head” for a mere touch. Maybe it was a flash of disbelief? Not just for going against her wishes and touching her in public, though. If that was it, he would have apologized immediately. He doesn’t apologize at all.
Lena steps around him. When she passes, he runs his hand over his face. It’s definitely the gesture of someone who can’t believe what he’s just done, but there’s more to it than that. If I had to guess, I’d say he can’t believe what he almost just revealed.