The palace's eastern wing dated from an earlier time than the others, built from darker stone and overgrown with ivy that brushed against the windows. This was where the ancient archives lay—a hollowed shrine of scrolls, relics, and tomes bound in dragonhide and strewn with wards of protection. Few entered untempted. Fewer still departed untempted.
Cassie had come alone.
The air was chilled, with dust and ancient magic in it. Lanterns were suspended above the floor, casting golden halos to drift across lengthened, gnarled shelves. Her fingers wandered over wooden spines, stopping sometimes as if something would summon her. She didn't know what she searched for—only that the dreams were growing stronger now, and the storm-child inside her awakened more with each passing day.
A humming so
