Free King of Assassins: The Elven Ways: Book Three by Jenna Rhodes

study and put away. Bistane took a deep sip of his drink and stayed quiet for such a long time that Dayne, despite his inner promise to himself to be quiet and content and certainly not impatient as Dwellers could be (after all, they did not have the time, let alone the lifespan, of the average Vaelinar) and finally blurted, “Why Ferstanthe?”
    Bistane’s eyes came back into focus and he looked over as though realizing he wasn’t alone and had forgotten that. He took a very short sip of his drink before answering, “I was looking for something.”
    “And you didn’t find it.”
    “No. But I did find something else.” Bistane sat back even further, swung his boot heels up on the edge of the desk, and began a tale. “I was riding home from Ashenbrook, to see how you were doing, and the farmlands, and to swing by the Library because of something gone missing that bothered me, and because Azel had sent me a note that I decided I should answer. Despite the fact worry carried me there, I enjoyed the journey. I like the northern lands with their evergreens and free-flowing brooks and . . .”
    Dayne sat back and listened to his brother launch into his story.

    There was a wind in the high forests, and the evergreens shook and moaned against one another, sounding like both the sea and a ship sailing upon it, its timbers creaking and echoing the force of nature which carried it. Azel d’Stanthe of Ferstanthe came to the gate of the library grounds when summoned, one hand wrapped firmly at the collar of his cloak, his towering body hunched as though the winds could lift and carry even his substantial figure away with it.
    “Bistane! My lad. Good of you to come. I hope I did not thwart any battle plans by asking you to detour here.”
    “You would never ask lightly, Azel. Whatever your concerns, I’ll do what I can.”
    The wind whistled as if it would cut through both of them, and Azel hurried them through the gate and gardens and into the library’s front rooms, closing the massive wooden doors with a resounding thud at their heels. The foyer and corridors smelled of aromatic woods and faint incense and the metallic odors of various inks. He could hear students rustling in the background, but no one came to take his coat or Azel’s cloak, and he had the feeling that the master of these great woods and its library had ordered complete and total solitude. He draped his cloak coat over his arm as he followed after d’Stanthe to a study deep within the library complex.
    “My father intended to visit you before Ashenbrook.”
    “And so he did, Lord Vantane, so he did. His journal rests with the other
Books of All Truth
.”
    A tension left Bistane. It was a duty he knew his father had taken most seriously and he had made his intent known that he would visit Ferstanthe. But Bistane had never been certain that Bistel had actually relinquished the book even though his visit had been well known and, since the journal had not been found with what little remains his Returned body left behind, he had worried that it might have been lost in battle. Like his father, Bistane had seen that worn leather journal nearly every day of his life. He would have liked to see it again. Just for old times’ sake, and perhaps a bit more.
    Azel set his hands on his knees and said, as if reading Bistane’s mind, “It is beyond sharing now. It is in the trust with the other books, until that time prophesied when they will be needed and unleashed.”
    Bistane sat with a faint misgiving. “Unleashed? So strong a word?”
    “Repeated as it was given and lessoned to me. It is strong, isn’t it? It makes me worry about my charges even more.” Azel leaned forward, removing a quilted cover over an ornate tray on the table between them. He poured drinks and sliced from a loaf and piled cold meats and cheese on it, and gave a share balanced on a clean linen napkin to Bistane. “Eat and listen.”
    So he did.
    Azel looked gray about the face,