The royal archives were buried deep in the subterranean belly of the palace, far away from the crisp air and the sunlight of Gunnar’s wing. Down here, the only scent was the dry, decaying tang of centuries-old parchment, heavy dust, and the faint, bitter smell of sulfur from the sconces lining the stone walls.
It felt like a tomb. And for the last three hours, it had been my prison.
"You're not turning the pages fast enough," Elian muttered.
Before I could reply, I heard the heavy scraping of his chair. He didn't stay on his side of the massive mahogany table anymore. He closed the distance with terrifyingly quiet footsteps, stopping directly behind my shoulder. The tremor in his hands was gone, replaced by a cold, desperate calculation.
He leaned down, his presence crowding over me, h
