Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,40

man.

Other than that, the only artwork is of Bellonian landscapes. Fishing scenes. Ornate hourglasses and detailed tapestries depicting the Sun, the island, the Great Sea.

My stomach drops in disappointment. Of course it wouldn’t be so simple.

This is not where Veda is or was ever kept.

But …

Just to be sure, I take a second glance around.

Nothing.

As I head back toward the stairs I notice a slice of white door peeking out from behind one of the bookcases. Strange to place a shelf in front of a door. Stranger that there’d be another room connected to what seems a glorified storage space.

I rush over to it.

There’s no latch or knob. It simply slides open to the side, leaving barely enough space for me to squeeze through. Before I do, though, I pick up one of the candles and light it with the flame from a nearby lantern.

I enter to find the space is no bigger than a closet. It’s dark save the light from the solitary candle I hold. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but as with the room outside, this one is equally disappointing. That is, until I spot a painting on the floor. It’s propped against the wall and there’s a mound of something sitting before it.

I make my way closer, shine my candle in front of what I see is a portrait.

Of a young Sindaco.

Then I see there are more paintings piled behind it. Some of the late Lady Raevald. Of the three as a family. More of the Sindaco as a boy. And it’s strange, isn’t it, that they’d be hidden away like this? Though I suppose I don’t put anything past Raevald, strange or otherwise. In his mind, his son is a disgrace. A stain on the family.

When I move to the mound on the floor in front of the paintings I expect to find more furnishings. A pile of old silverware, picture frames, or glass figurines. I unwrap the object to find there are multiple objects. Some sort of weapon.

I hold the light over the top of it.

I know this weapon.

It’s a quiver of spears and a wooden throwing device.

Veda’s atlatl.

The one she had with her the last night we were together.

In my bedroom.

Memories fill my mind, take over my thoughts. Images of Veda and me, our lips touching, the warmth of her body next to mine, how everything for that short moment in time was somehow peaceful and right …

My chest burns, and my heart quakes.

I cannot. Not now. Not here when I’m searching for proof she’s alive or dead and must snap back into the role of heir if I’m caught.

I shove it all down. Every last freckle that specks the bridge of her nose. Every last eyelash that fans her green eyes. Her light fingertips and the way she somehow wields a fishing pole like it’s second nature. How she refuses to put up with my shit.

How, after all these years, I give her shit just so she can call me out on it.

But I’m thinking about her like she’s here. As if I could walk to her house and take her out for a stroll along the canal.

That was a different life.

One lived under a different Sun.

I stand.

I go to grab her weapon, make a promise that I will return it to her. But as I’m crouching down to pick it up, the floor above me creaks. A door opens and then closes.

“Lord Denali?” calls someone from the top of the stairway. “Are you down there, sir?”

Salazar. Damn it.

Quickly, I cover the atlatl again, then I blow out the candle and bolt through the door of the secret room. It swings shut just as I see Salazar’s boots descending the stairs. I grab the first book I find, sit in a chair, and start flipping through it.

“My lord?” he repeats, coming around the last curve of the stairway.

I glance up, expression hard, thoroughly annoyed he’d dare disturb me while reading—I peek at the title: 100 Days by Ship: Navigating the Great Sea. “Yes?”

“The High Regent did explain I’d be fetching you for dinner, yes?” The guy is all legs and height. Lanky. He’s as tall as I am, but probably two-thirds my size. Maybe five years older than me. Uniform crisp, not a hair out of place, Salazar is flawless.

“He did, yes,” I say.

Salazar quirks an inquisitive eyebrow. “Planning a trip somewhere?”

“What?” He motions toward the book. “Oh … not quite. I couldn’t stand being in my room any longer. I