A Rejected Wolf and a Court of Ash (Eden and Azriel) novel Chapter 86

Chapter 86

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Eden

The palace is too quiet. Not silent. Expectant. Like it knows I’m about to do something unforgivable. Like it’s waiting to collapse. Like a house of cards. Like the walls know I’m about to do something I’m not supposed to, and that’s threatening this whole place’s existence.

Welp, not my problem.

I tug on my boots. I’m wearing yesterday’s dress, and pad down the hallway. No shadows tail me to the library. This time no Azriel either.

That should comfort me, but it doesn’t.

Every step feels like a gamble. Azriel could come back and get mad that I’m snooping around and trying to find a way out. The wrong version of him frightens me and I half–expected him to pop–up behind me.

When I check, there’s no one.

Just me, and the library waiting for me.

I press my hand against the door when I make it there. Expecting it to resist.

It opens easily with a soft sigh.

Inside, the air is warm. Alive. As if the room breathes. I wonder if Azriel knows I’m here like he did last time. Or if the part of him I still believe is keeping the corrupted version of him away so I can find a way for us to break free.

There got to be something here to help us…

I reach out my hand, concentrating to search for Azriel’s touch and magic. I’m sure there’s going to be something here. Something reaching back. And… there it is!

My eyes when Azriel’s magic is there, calling for me. Then it hits me.

This library isn’t just a dreamspace.

It’s his.

Azriel built this entire place. These shelves. These books. It’s all made of his magic. His memories and knowledge.

These aren’t just any books. These are his books.

Every spell he’s studied. Every piece of fae history he’s touched. Every scrap of forgotten lore that ever passed through his hands. This is where the knowledge comes from.

Which means I can only learn what Azriel already knows.

Fortunately…

He knows a lot about foxes. Of course he does. He studied me before I even knew who I was. Not to control me. But to understand me.

That used to terrify me. Now, it’s the only thing giving me hope.

The shelves don’t move when I do, but still, it feels like they are watching me.

Are they on my side…?

I pause, then whisper, “I need to know what I am.”

1/3

15:31 Sat, 28 Jün G

Chapter 86

Silence.

And then…movement. The shelves groan and rearrange, opening into a narrow path lined with fox statues. Their eyes glow faintly blue. The path leads to a single desk at the center of the library, and resting there is a book.

Thick. Antique. Bound in reddish–brown leather.

The title burns across the cover in foxfire: On the Nature of Nine.

My pulse skips.

I lift the book carefully. My hands are trembling. If this is my only chance to understand who I really arm, then I have to be brave enough to face whatever it says.

The cover hisses under my touch like it recognizes me. Accepts me. It opens without resistance.

Inside, the pages are yellowed and full of unfamiliar diagrams. Some foxes drawn with only two or three tails. One with five. One… with nine.

Are these all of my different lives?

Azriel said I’m born with another tail every time I’m reborn.

I stare at the nine–tailed fox.

She looks back at me.

Goosebumps travel up my arms.

This is so creepy…

The fox’s nine tails are painted with strange pigments–one looks like fire, one like starlight, one like bleeding ink. Her eyes seem alive, her stare too knowing. It doesn’t feel like I’m looking at a picture. It feels like she’s waiting for me to remember something I’ve forgotten.

I skim through the chapters. Breath catching on every phrase.

The ninth tail is not of fire, but of fate. It does not burn. It remembers.

The ninth fox born is not just a gifted illusionist. She is a keeper of the moments between moments. A bender of fate. A walker between what was and what could be.

A cold thrill races up my spine.

Is this what Azriel meant when he said I have another path?

+flip faster. But most of the pages are in another language. Fae runes I can’t translate. But I recognize the symbols of time. Cycles. Moons.

Something moves behind me.

I turn…nothing.

But when I turn back, the book has changed.

A single phrase glows now in gold ink at the bottom of the page.

You are not bound to one timeline.

I stare at the words until my head spins.

Not bound to one timeline.

2/3

15:31 Sat 28 Jun

Chapter 86

What the hell does that mean?

I run my fingers over the script. The ink sizzles under my touch, and the page curls, revealing another page.

Sealed.

With foxfire.

I press my fingers to the flame.

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