She wasn’t willing to bet a lot of money on it. It was possible that their concern had been Killian’s movements. The people that had gathered to attack Larrantin—or Larrantin’s building—had clearly seen, and been seen by, Annarion and Sedarias. She was certain that Candallar could see them all.
If she was right, Candallar had somehow led the others here. Candallar had somehow found the Academia in his tenure as fieflord. If it had value to Candallar, she thought it the value of a cage: it was a great way to do away with inconvenient people. No bodies would be found, and therefore no messy investigations would occur.
Not that investigations would occur in the streets of his fief, either. He was fieflord. He could just as easily rid himself of inconvenient people within his Tower. On the other hand, he couldn’t have gotten rid of Kaylin that way because she’d never have willingly set foot in his Tower, and the Barrani weren’t famously trusting. Not even of their allies. Or perhaps not especially of their allies; their enemies weren’t close enough to stick knives into their rib cages.
Regardless, someone had to find Killian first.
How? If it weren’t for the fact that she’d been deposited in a trap, she would never have found him—would never have thought to look. Severn had explored border zones before he’d joined the Hawks and hadn’t stumbled across this place, either.
She held her breath as her path brought her closer to the Barrani; their voices grew no louder, although it was clear that their discussion had developed some heat. Hope hadn’t dropped his wing once, an indication that they would have remained invisible to her had she not had a familiar perched on her shoulder.
She moved quickly, steps as silent as she could make them; they were standing in the space between the honeycombed shelving, which made bypassing them more of a challenge. She kept her dagger in her hand, but it was more for comfort than use now.
It was not the Arcanist who turned in her direction; he was involved in the heated discussion Kaylin couldn’t hear. She moved quickly, as the Barrani man glanced around the room; she could see his features clearly. His eyes were narrowed. She didn’t wonder what had drawn his attention; no one could move completely silently if they were larger than a cat. Even with the noise he could hear—the argument in progress—he was watchful. In this situation, she would have been, as well.
Unless she was the one doing the arguing.
Hope was stiff on his perch, his legs tensing as his claws dug in. He seemed to be deciding against pushing himself off her shoulder, which was probably for the best. She doubted the Barrani could hurt Hope, but the attempt to do so would cause damage. Probably.
She headed away from the Barrani, and farther away from the two Dragons who had stepped into an area of floor from which purple fire had sprung.
Chapter 22
The library was gigantic. Kaylin had known the collection itself wasn’t small, given the height of the shelves, but this was far larger than the intimidating Imperial Library; it was larger than any single room that Helen had ever created for any of her guests—or her tenants. To be fair, she could no longer tell how tall the shelves she was touching were; she knew that they still housed books because those were her anchor as she moved. Her fingers continued to brush across the spines.
Only when one bit her—literally—did she stop. She sucked in air, but let it out in a silent exhalation, lifting her hand to examine it. She could see no blood, but her middle finger was numb.
She was grateful that this library had no Dragon as its hoarder. She paused in her search for a door, a more traditional point of entry, and moved her hand back toward the book that had caused the reaction.
With as much care as she could manage given the poor visibility and her instinctive desire to avoid something that caused pain by simple light touch, she attempted to pull the book off the shelf. She was half expecting alarms to start; the ceilings here would create a resonance that was certain to cause them to carry.
The book came free from the shelf cleanly, easily; touching it caused no further pain, although she felt it as a warmth against her palm. It was the type of warmth living skin shed. The thought took root and would not be