Thread of Darkness

Ch. 21: welcome to the great library

Penny leaned back. "Where will we stay? In Libertas, I mean?"

"My manor." Grayson set the tool in a bag, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Unless you'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

"No," Penny said. "That's fine." She hesitated. "Will Orin be there?"

Because if he was, then Penny intended to stay as far away from Grayson's uncle as possible. She'd only encountered Orin twice. On the first occasion, he'd decapitated a deer in front of her on Yulemas morning; on the second occasion, he'd been asked Grayson to gain her trust and then ask her for money.

Not exactly a favourable impression.

Grayson nodded. "And my younger sister."

"You don't speak about her much."

Grayson blew out a breath. "That's because I try to keep her away from court politics. Maribel is..." He looked down at his hands. "She's very excitable. As a child, she loved nothing more than to make all the village boys push her around in a wheelbarrow. I dread when she becomes of age next year."

Penny studied him. "You're worried that someone will take advantage of her."

"Yes." Grayson paused. "And I worry about her dowry."

"What about it?"

"That there might not be one."

A long silence fell. Penny ripped off a chunk of bread, nibbling on the crust. She wasn't sure, exactly, how one had a polite conversation with her ex-lover about how he'd previously tried to extort her for money.

Her governess certainly hadn't covered that in etiquette class.

"I'm certain that Ryne would pay it," Penny offered. "If you asked."

Grayson shook his head. "Ryne has enough on his mind. And he might not..."

He broke off abruptly. The words hung heavily between them, like relentless, whispering ghosts. A lump rose in her throat.

Penny propped an arm on the ledge. "It's alright. You can say it." When Grayson was silent, she added, "He might not make it that long. That's what you were about to say, wasn't it? Before you stopped yourself?"

Grayson rubbed his eyes. "We'll find a cure, Penny."

She stared down at the half-eaten slice of bread. "At least if Ryne marries Camille and they have a child, the throne will go to him. There's some comfort in that."

"It's funny," Grayson began. "I always thought..."

He trailed off. Not for the first time, Penny felt a surge of frustration. Out of all the people in Mondia, did it have to be this man that she couldn't read? She'd met doorknobs with better communication skills.

"What?" she prompted.

Grayson laced his fingers. "I always assumed that there was something between Camille and Isaac." He gave her a sharp look. "Don't repeat that to Ryne, obviously."

Penny pursed her lips. She doubted whether anything happened in Stillwater Castle without her brother's knowledge, but all she said was, "Have you heard from him?"

"Webb?" Grayson asked. "Not a word."

"Me neither." Penny bit into a piece of cheese. "Don't you think that's strange?"

Grayson shrugged. "It's a lot of work to take over an estate. I barricaded myself in my father's office with a stack of ledgers and didn't come out for a month. Maribel was worried that I'd died of malnourishment."

She pursed her lips. "Perhaps we should call on him."

"If you'd like," Grayson said. "We'll stop by Highcliff on our journey home."

He said it as if it was a given. As if Penny could have asked anything of him in the world, and Grayson would do it, simply because she'd asked. She looked out the window, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in her chest.

"Thank-you," she said.

He nodded. "You're welcome."

The rest of the journey passed in companionable silence. Grayson read a book. Penny scribbled poetry. They played three rounds of King's Trident (Grayson won) and then moved on to an underhanded game of Salvatorian's Bluff (Penny won). By the time the grass gave way to swaths of sandy beach, the sun had begun to leak into the sea, melting in brilliant sweeps of marigold yellow and burnt orange.

"There!" Grayson sat up, pointing out the window. "Do you see that? That's where we're going."

Penny followed his gaze to a white patch of sand beneath a towering black cliff. Other than that, the beach was completely deserted. No sign of a library.

She frowned. "The sea?"

Grayson smiled. "You'll understand in a moment."

The carriage halted at the base of the cliff. Grayson hopped out, taking a deep breath. The salty breeze had whipped colour into his cheeks, and his blond hair stuck up in all directions. He looked healthier, somehow, Penny thought. More alive. This climate suited him.

Still.

She was beginning to think Grayson was delusional.

"Grayson." She spun in a circle. "There's nothing for miles."

His smile grew. "Trust me."

Grayson started up the black cliff. Penny swore under her breath, gathering her skirts in one hand. Right. Nobody had told her there would be hiking involved, and she certainly wasn't wearing the right shoes for it. Why didn't men consider these things?

Oh, yeah.

Because they only had one pair of shoes.

Penny sighed. Bloody typical.

She gritted her teeth, scrambling up the black rocks. Grayson was impossibly fast, hopping from rock-to-rock with ease, although she had the distinct sense that he was slowing his pace for her. He'd pause occasionally to help her over a wet patch or offer direction, but other than that, they worked in silence. Which was just as well, Penny thought, considering she was far too out of breath to form complete sentences.

Finally — mercifully — Grayson paused.

"Here," he said.

Penny bent over, sucking in deep breaths. The air tasted of wildflower and salt. Below them, the sea was unnaturally clear; she could see a smattering of red and yellow coral reefs below, along with a school of pink fish. Other than that, nothing distinguished the area.

Once again, Penny thought, there was a distinct possibility that Grayson was losing it.

Then she saw it.

Penny shifted closer. A large black stone jutted from the cliff face, rising about halfway to their knees. And while there was nothing unusual about it at first, if you looked closer...

"You see those markings?" Grayson gestured. "A compass with a star and an anchor." He drew a knife from his pocket. "The same as my tattoo."

Penny looked at the rock warily. "What does it do?"

"You'll see." Grayson raised an eyebrow. "You may want to stand back a little."

Penny took a healthy step backward.

Grayson sliced his palm. Blood pooled in his fist, dripping like tears on to the rock. For a moment, nothing happened. And then Penny felt it; the entire earth trembled, as if yawning and stretching its arms. The rock began to crack. Penny stumbled backwards, a spike of anxiety pulsing through her.

"Grayson?" she asked.

"Don't be scared." His eyes were very blue. "Just wait."

The sea parted.

The water drew apart like two cupped hands, spilling into the centre. Something made a great grinding noise. Penny watched, frozen, as a long marble staircase rose from the sea, vanishing into the depths below. When Grayson turned, his smile was luminous.

"Welcome to the Great Library, Penny Delafort."