Chapter 10: The Vault

The hall emptied slowly, and the reporters were still shouting questions at the doors when Alaric reached me.

"Astrid," he said quietly.

"My father said to ask the King who paid him back."

"I heard."

"Open the vault."

He did not argue, and he did not ask me to wait until morning.

He took off his coat and laid it over my shoulders, and we went down together through the east tower.

The stairs were narrow and unlit.

At the bottom, there was a door of black iron with a hand-shaped plate set into its center, worn smooth.

"The seal only breaks for the sitting King," Alaric said. "I never wanted to find out what it does."

He pressed his palm flat to the plate.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a click ran through the iron, deep in the wall, and the door sagged an inch open on cold, dry air.

Alaric didn't move.

"I told you I was glad when he died," he said. "I'm not sure that was enough."

"You don't have to read it."

"Yes, I do."

"Then I read it," I said. "You carry the lamp, and you don't touch the pages. You're my light, Alaric. That's all."

He took the lamp.

The room beyond was small, and its walls were lined with shelves of locked boxes.

Only one shelf held a book.

It was bound in black leather, with a small gold crown pressed into the cover.

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