DRAVEN
I had known something was wrong the moment I saw Viola linger-ing outside the old wing, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She wouldn't meet my gaze. Didn't have to. The answer was already crawling under my skin.
I stepped inside the abandoned library. The scent of dust, parch-ment, and something softer hit me at once. Elara.
She stood in the center of the room, the faint light catching the edges of her hair. The sight would have stilled me if not for what she held in her hands.
My mother's journal.
Heat rushed through me, fury rising sharp and fast. "Put that down."
She flinched at the sound of my voice but didn't move. Her fingers tightened around the cover. I moved closer, my boots scraping against the stone floor.
"What are you doing in here?" My tone was low, biting. "That's private."
"I didn't mean to..." she started.
