Page 31 of A Vow of Shadows

I all but collapsed onto the cushion, releasing a cloud of dust that I batted away as I coughed. My eyes watered, and I waited for the dust to settle before glancing at the book I’d chosen.

It was a hefty tome, as many of them were, with a dark leather cover embossed with letters I recognized in patterns I didn’t. I traced my fingers over the details, mindful of the cracks where the leather had dried. The spine creaked as I pried it open, but the vellum pages within appeared in good condition aside from their slight discoloration.

I flipped through the pages with gentle hands, careful not to tear any. The words remained a mystery, but there were illustrations every few pages that appeared to depict people of importance. Their faces meant nothing to me, but I thought they might have been rulers of another land or another time.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. My body, it would seem, had other plans. Next I knew, I was being nudged awake by a persistent blast of cold air. I shivered and drew the book that was still clutched in my hands over my chest. As if bolstered by my movement, the breeze became a typhoon that hauled me upright. My eyes popped open, only to be met by complete and utter darkness. Before I could scream, the shadows parted, drifting back into the general form of my two sentinels.

I melted back onto the couch, relief turning my bones to liquid as my mind caught up to my body’s wakefulness.

The doorknob rattled, and I sprang upright again. I had approximately two seconds to decide how to prepare for the Ferrier’s entrance—because who else would it be?

If I stood, it would look like I had risenbecauseof his presence, which was not the response I wanted to portray. As such, acting casual seemed the only option worth considering.

Faster than I would have thought possible, I tore open the book and hefted it in front of my face.

The door opened, and I fought the impulse to watch him enter the room. Keeping my nose down, I pointedly ignored the draw of his dark force, going so far as to slide one finger along the page as though I were skimming the text.

His boot clad feet stopped within my field of vision and my heartbeat intensified. I pulled the book closer in case he could see the pulse of it through the fabric of my dress.

“You slept in the library?”

“What? No, obviously not. I’ve just been reading.” I looked at the book with unseeing eyes, all of my focus going to the man on the other side of the cover.

“I didn’t realize you could read Old Demonic, Miss Fil’Owen.”

“I was perusing it for interesting pictures.”

“It’s upside-down.”

Slamming the book closed, I glared at the Ferrier. “You startled me. I was about to head down to the kitchens to break my fast.”

It had been a mistake to remain sitting. I felt like a petulant child craning my neck to look up at him. I pushed up to standing to emphasize my point about preparing to leave, but the Ferrier still towered over me.

“Yes, of course. You must have been drooling in anticipation of your next meal.”

My hand flew to my chin, swiping at nothing as my fingers came away dry. The Ferrier smirked—actuallysmirked—and I wondered if his shadows were fast enough to protect him from a book launched at his head.

“You can’t lie to me,” he said, gesturing to his two shadows that had remained by my side.

I glared at them sidelong. The traitors. “Fine, I fell asleep here. It was a bit chilly upstairs today. Some kind of bitter frost radiated from the second floor.”

Was that color staining the Ferrier of Souls’ cheeks? For the first time since I’d seen his face, his mask of cold indifference had disappeared, perhaps without his knowing. His throat bobbed as he looked away, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he schooled his features.

“Did you have need of me, oh great Shepherd of Souls?”

“I wanted to apologize for my part in our interaction this morning. I was not myself.” He paused as though reconsidering. “I was not the version of myself that I wish to be.”

Tipping my head to one side, I weighed his words against what I knew of the Ferrier. His stance was relaxed, hands in his pockets, expression blank as I openly scrutinized him. Here was a man who had lost everything to work for Death.

Or had he given up his life willingly?

Therein lay the difference. Was this someone who had walled off all trace of his humanity to protect himself? Or someone who possessed so little of it to begin with that he’d willingly sacrificed that part of himself for powers of darkness?

Considering what I knew of people, I was hesitant to relinquish my suspicions, but I knew I’d find no answers by pushing him away. “I am sorry if I said something to offend you.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up. Not a full smile, not even a smirk, but acknowledgment of my words just the same. “No apologies necessary, Miss Fil’Owen. Some nights my duties are more trying than others.”

I supposed that explained his mood swing this morning. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ventured.