Chapter Eleven
Aster and the assassinswere busy, so tonight Bastian and I sneaked into the library alone. I left a note letting them know where we went and hid several knives hidden under my clothes and Bastian knew forty-six different ways to kill a person according to him.
We’d gone every night for a couple hours for days. We were determined to try and find something, a loophole, anything, to help take down the king. Or, I was. I was fairly certain Bastian came to surround himself with books and research and knowledge instead of dealing with people.
The king hadn’t left his rooms since the day after we returned. As soon as he heard the people of the capital were outraged over his proclamation about the dragon kindreds and that people were singing my songs in the streets and taverns, he’d locked himself away like a child throwing a tantrum and stomping away with his toys.
But it was part of the reason the guys were even more on edge. They didn’t trust the calm before the storm, not trusting the king was just hiding away. It convinced them he was plotting something.
And they were probably right.
Which made what Bastian and I were working on even more important. I doubted we’d find anything new to help, but I couldn’t just sit around and wait, twiddling my thumbs, stuck in our rooms. I had to try. And Bastian was a marvel when it came to research and sniffing out long-forgotten, dust-covered tomes.
Aster usually searched through the books Bastian found with us, skeptical but willing to try. He and Bastian had an easy camaraderie I envied and already missed tonight. He made things easier between me and the dragon.
Bastian watched the corridors while I slid the key inside the hole and unlocked the door with a soft snick. We slipped inside and locked the door behind us.
A tension inside me released as the scents of the library embraced us. I’d enjoyed our late nights here, able to ignore for the short time we spent surrounded by books of the drama and difficulty waiting for us outside the doors.
And my assassins always waited for the prince and me to curl up with them when we returned to our rooms where they helped me forget even more with their mouths, tongues, hands, and teeth.
Bastian and I hurried over to the spot we’d hidden the books we still hadn’t gotten through. It’d be easier to cart them all back to our rooms, but according to Aster, the librarians were strict and if they found them missing, an uproar could occur. The king too was particular about the books, not wanting them to leave the space, even the royals needed special permission to remove them.
And we didn’t want him knowing what we were researching.
Besides, each time we came, Bastian unearthed more, adding to our ever-growing pile. We spread everything out on a table in the back corner, and dove in, no words between us.
It was almost comfortable, this lack of a need to communicate out loud with him. We’d grown comfortable together during this time in the library, something that was missing when we returned to our quarters. Back there, we avoided and tiptoed around each other, pretending the bond wasn’t tightening between us more and more every day, demanding we give in.
I wanted to. Everything I’d learned about him made it harder. As I watched he and Aster chat about books and the differences in their cultures while we poured over old books and papers. Some of his assholeness had worn off since we left his home, leaving him still stern and serious, but there was a lighter air about him, one dulling his bitter and sharp edges. I enjoyed watching the way his clever brain worked, the way he could remember everything he read with utter perfection, how he had excellent ideas he happily shared with Aster over ways to make things better once Indigo took over. He saw the problems with the dragons’ laws and cautioned Aster from basing too much of the new Faligrey on the dragon lands. We hadn’t been there long enough to see the problems.
I drank in the sight of him, his black eyes darting back and forth in his head as he soaked up the words on the page of the book in his lap. The interest in the lines of his furrowed brow. The glow of his dark skin shining from the lantern light. The slight gray at his temples. His sharp jaw and high cheekbones. A shiver skittered up my spine as I watched him, wanted him.
But I was the one who fought for choice and freedom, so I refused to use the bond against him. He wanted a tentative friendship, so it was what I’d give him.
“Everything all right?” He didn’t look up from the book.
“Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.” I hid a grimace. I sounded anything but fine.
He didn’t call me on it. “Are you planning to help me get through all this?”
“Of course. Sorry. I was just thinking.”
He glanced up at me. “Anything you want to share?”
“Nope. No. I’m good.” I hid behind the first book I grabbed, scooting low in my chair, cursing myself for my awkwardness.
The book was brittle in my hands, aged by years and years of life upon an old shelf. I flipped carefully through the pages of what seemed to be an old journal, my eyes squinting at the faded scrawl.
Why did the library hold some old journal?
I gasped as I read the words. It was Aster’s great-great-great-great grandfather’s journal. King Nemah. I knew little about him other than he was the one who made the kindred law. He was the original reason my parents could never legally be together.