THE ASHEN COURT

ANIKA VALERION

Two hours.

I had already burned two of the eighteen hours left, and still I had found nothing.

Frustration clawed at the edges of my control as I moved along the fourth row of shelves, fingers trailing over scrolls and parchments written in shifting letters, some of which I could barely decipher.

Every minute that slipped past felt like a chain tightening around us and the children below.

Xander searched the fifth row quietly, one arm held protectively against his injured side. The incomplete bond between us pulsed with quiet tension. He was hurting. He was worried. But he stayed close.

I was reaching for...