Assassin of Truths (Library Jumpers #3)

I smiled, strangling the handle of my bag draped over my shoulder. “Do you think you could take me to your leader?”

Take me to your leader? Really? I sound like a cartoon alien or something.

“Most certainly,” he said, oblivious to the alien-like comment. “I will take you to our queen, but first I must pick these up. Me máthair won’t be able to make her pies for the bakery without them.” He sat on his heels and started picking up the fruit and placing it in the basket.

I bent down and helped him. “Why does your haven have a queen and the others have high wizards?”

“Briony be the daughter of our fallen high wizard and a princess from the Fey nation. After his death, Tearmann voted to have her rule the haven. We have a parliament of high wizards.” He piled the last purple fruit on top of the others. “They be the best of the wizards. Most pure hearted. If you be asking me, our system should be how they govern the entire Mystik world.” With that, he lifted the basket.

“You’re probably right,” I said, following him. “A responsible government or even a democracy would be ideal.”

“I don’t know what you speak of, but ours would work best.”

“Okay, same thing probably.” I wasn’t sure, but so far, Tearmann haven wasn’t after my head. That had to be a good thing. “So, what’s your name?”

“Buach,” he said, taking a dirt path that weaved around what looked like a large Hobbit village. The houses had colorful doors and stained-glass windows, and some were even dug into the many hills.

“How do you say your name, again?” I asked.

“Boo-ock,” he empathized for me.

“That’s a strong”—odd—“name.”

He stopped at one of the homes with a yellow door. “Can you open it for me?”

I grabbed the big brass knob and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t move.

He snickered. “They don’t have doors where you come from? You push.”

“Oh.” I shoved open the door and stepped aside to let him pass. “We do have doors, but our knobs actually do something.”

“Too bad my ma isn’t home,” he said over his shoulder. “She would be beside herself for a month after meeting you.”

This was all taking too long. “I really have to be going. I’m running out of time.” I shrugged a shoulder. “You know, the whole I have to save both worlds thing.”

His eyes widened. “For the love of taffy flowers. I be as dense as a wicket. We go straightaway.” The basket thumped against the counter as he dropped it and rushed outside with me. “You’ll cause a ruckus if anybody recognizes you.”

Pretty much, I had to hide from everyone—bad and good. I drew the hood of my cloak over my head.

All the roads in that haven were twisty and turny. We’d walked nearly five miles when we approached a massive gate made of thick silver twisted to look like flowers, trees, and birds. Several guards flanked each side, and more kept watch from balconies carved into the rock above the gate.

“Lower your hood,” Buach said.

I pushed it off my head and suddenly felt vulnerable.

“Who do you have here, Buach?” said one of the guards with big biceps, wearing a helmet with flaps covering his cheeks and a bar hanging down that pressed against his nose.

Buach narrowed his eyes at him. “Blimey, Galach, don’t you recognize her?”

“What did I tell you?” Galach could narrow his eyes in a way more menacing manner than Buach. It made me take a step back. “Outside of home, you are to address me formally.”

“Just let us through, already,” Buach said. “Do you want to be known as the bumble head who didn’t recognize her?”

Galach studied me harder. His eyes widened. “The presage.”

“I’m here to see your queen,” I said. He was just staring at me, not saying a word. “Please?”

He shook out of his stupor, motioned for the other guards to open the gates, and escorted us inside.

“Contact the queen,” Galach ordered a smaller guard with red hair sticking out from his helmet. “Inform her she has a guest.”

We were led to an elevator that resembled the outside gate—silver rods bent and turned to look like flowers and birds.

The elevator took a while to reach the bottom. It bounced and my breath hitched. When the door slid open, I hurried out, only to discover it was freezing. The cold settled into my bones, and I shivered. We were inside a gigantic cavern. I wrapped my cape tighter around me.

“Is this real?” I asked, trying to take in all the tiny details, like the carvings of people and faeries and landscapes on the walls.

The hum of the electric lanterns—hanging on wires strung from elaborate spears sticking out of the rock on either side of the walkway—mixed with the plopping of a thousand drips of water. Surrounded by crystal stalactites and stalagmites was a castle that had been carved into the side of the cavern.

At the end of the walkway, we crossed a drawbridge and entered the castle. If the outside was cold, the interior was warm and decorated in brown and burnt orange furnishings with sculptures of strange looking animals lining the main corridor. We ended up in a room where a wiry woman, maybe in her early twenties, with hair almost the color of paper and even paler skin, stood up from her seat at a long table. She wore a cream jumpsuit made of some sort of chiffon material, a thick leather belt cinching her tiny waist.

She glided over to us. As she neared, her amber eyes held me. With her hair pulled half up in intricate braids, her pointy ears stood out.

“Gianna, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Her voice was as sweet as honey. “I’m Briony. Come sit down. You must be hungry. Our meal will be delivered soon.”

“I am,” I said.

A man in a stiff suit pulled out a chair for me. It was beside the head of the table where Briony sat.

Briony’s eyes inspected Buach. “And you are?”

“He be me brother, Buach, Your Highness,” Galach said. “He works in our family’s bakery.”

“Oh yes. Well, thank you for bringing our guest to me.” She gave him a warm smile. “You may go.”

Buach bowed, and before he turned to leave, he said, “When there be peace, Gia, might you come and have a slice of pie? Our bakery be the best in all the havens.”

“Definitely,” I said. “I look forward to it. Thank you for everything, Buach.”

“I should be the one to thank you.” His smile was sad, or maybe it was pity for me, the sacrificial lamb on her way to slaughter. “All right, then. Goodbye.”

It was as if he didn’t want to leave me there, so I gave him a reassuring smile. “Goodbye.”

After Buach and Galach exited the room, several men and women came in carrying trays. There were meats, cheeses, steamed vegetables, fruits, and baked goods. A man placed a white plate with etched flowers in front of me and served a helping from each tray onto it.

“This is a lot of food,” I said. “Is anyone else joining us?”

“No, it’s just us.” A woman showed her a bottle of wine, Briony nodded, and the woman poured it into her glass. The liquid was bright purple like the fruit that was in Buach’s basket. “When we are finished, they will sit and eat what is left over.”

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