The person who removed the chapters didn’t do it in a panic or a rush.
They did it while wearing gloves.
Years later—long after Zahara’s death became myth and Seraphine became a nightmare—someone returned to the Shadowmere library when the mountain was quiet, and the wards were relaxed by complacency.
They knew exactly which shelf.
And they knew exactly which binding.
They moved through the archive as if they had grown up inside it.
Jael’s fingers traced the cut edge again, as if the angle of the cut could tell him a name.
“It was a royal blade,” he said finally. “Not steel. Not common iron. This was enchanted to slice warded parchment without triggering protection spells.”
Amalia’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning access from within.”
Lucian’s voice went low. “A king’s access.”
Dorian lo
