Chapter 19 #2
“Yes?” he prompts, slowing us to a stop.
The hall is empty, but conversation from the celebration crowd floats through the air, not far away.
“Why is everyone in Virendrell a brunette?” I blurt, motioning to the portraits around us. “And yet so many people in these portraits are blond?”
“Oh.” He blinks, and I have the suspicion he expected me to say something else. “You really didn’t learn much in Astloria.”
The words aren’t an insult, but ignorance pains me all the same.
“I believe that’s the king’s goal,” I reply, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“You’re likely right.” Emotion flickers in his gaze.
Sympathy? Remorse?
I’m not sure.
Anders clears his throat, and we resume walking. “Not a bother. We will simply have to rectify the gaps in your knowledge while you’re here. Starting with the history of Virendrell. What do you know about it?”
He turns and leads me down another broad hall, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadow. The palace is much larger than it first appeared.
“Other than it being an island nation where Fae and humans live together?” I shrug. “Nothing.”
Gods, I hate admitting that out loud.
I’ve always considered myself intelligent. Studious. My natural gifts pushed me to become a talented healer, but it was discipline—learning every technique, every remedy, every scrap of information I could find—that allowed me to become a great one.
I’ve prided myself on my knowledge. It’s uncomfortable not to have it.
Anders dips his head, his expression solemn before he smooths it away.
“The founders of Virendrell were Mountain Fae,” he begins. “Hundreds of years ago, a small group descended from their mountainous stronghold and sailed to this island, only to discover humans already living here.”
“What—” I trip on the edge of a tasseled rug, tightening my grip on Anders’s arm to keep from falling.
Heat floods my cheeks as I right myself.
“What happened?” I continue. “Was there a fight for the land?”
With no exterior windows in the hall, the sconces’ light paints Anders’s face in stark relief. Now the sympathy in his expression is impossible to miss.
“No.” His voice lowers when a maid hurries by, carrying a stack of linens. “Humans welcomed the Fae with open arms. The two races have lived side by side ever since.”
My lips turn down. Why couldn’t the same have happened in Astloria?
We stop before a set of double doors, each as tall as two men and almost equally as wide.
I stare at the pale wood, smooth and unadorned, except for silver handles and two small square windows set a hand’s breadth above my head. The grain reminds me of the furniture in the room I slept in.
Anders opens the doors, and we step inside the library.
Heavy silence presses down on me the moment the doors close behind us, as if words will damage the precious tomes sitting on the two stories of bookshelves bordering the warm space. As if a hiccup will knock over the shelves running the length of the rectangular room.
I drink in the elegant lanterns glowing atop sturdy tables, the toga-clad women reading and scribbling notes with quiet focus, and the countless books.
I want nothing more than to lose myself in this room, to devour any knowledge I can get my hands on. My feet itch to run back to my guest room to retrieve the Fae text and come back here to read it. To bask in this studious atmosphere while I try to deduce a method for curing Darius.
But lingering questions about Virendrell demand my attention.
“So…what happened?” I whisper, careful not to disturb the women working. “Where are the Mountain Fae now? Did they leave?”
Aside from Anders, I haven’t seen a single blond Fae. But their lifespans are long. Surely some still live.
His mouth tightens. “They died alongside many humans during the Shadow Wars.”
“What?” The word explodes from my lips.
Two women’s heads snap up. I cringe and, with an apologetic grimace, step away from Anders and turn to face him, searching his expression for any sign that I’ve misheard him.
But no… He’s serious.
“Fae allied with humans in the war?” The words are barely louder than a breath.
But Anders hears me just fine.
“They did.”
I search his blue eyes. “Why?”
Why would powerful Fae risk their lives to stand against King Marek?
“Many of the unmated Mountain Fae who founded Virendrell wed humans,” he answers quietly. “They were concerned for their descendants and their future. They wanted to stop Marek from spreading his cursed rule to our land. And they succeeded… but their victory cost them their lives.”
The information spins around my head, evading my attempts to try to make sense of it.
Fae allied with humans.
They successfully kept the king’s influence from Virendrell.
My throat tightens when I recall the words I'd thrown at Augustus last night—my accusation that Virendrell stood by while Verdanthia suffered.
“Over time, the fair coloring of the Mountain Fae was overtaken by the darker features of the island’s original human settlers,” Anders continues, unaware of my inner turmoil.
“Today, almost every citizen of Virendrell descends from one of those first Fae. Very few bloodlines remain entirely human.”
“That’s…” I shake my head slowly. “...incredible.”
“I suppose it is.” Anders extends his arm once more. “Come. Let’s find that book I want you to read.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and slide my hand in the crook of his elbow.
Anders leads me through the aisles, stopping once we reach the far wall. Leather spines gleam under lanternlight, titles stamped in gold. Anders tilts his head, scanning the third shelf, humming softly to himself.
I stand still, waiting, trying to stop my thoughts from dwelling on the tragic demise of the Mountain Fae who founded the one place where humans are not treated as second-class citizens.
“Ah-ha.” Anders pulls down a thin leather book and hands it to me. “Here you are.”
I take the volume and turn it over. The title, written in the common tongue, reads: A Beginner’s Guide to the Healing Arts, Second Edition.
“With your reputation, I imagine most of this information will be familiar. But just in case, it’s best to start with the basics.”
“I agree.” A smile tugs the corner of my lip.
I’m eager for any information to help me with my task—something different from the random Fae book from King Marek’s royal library or a diary filled with a Fae female’s musings about a visiting human prince.
Though, I really should read the next entry.
Last night, just before sleep claimed me, I’d reached an entry where the prince asked to meet the Fae in the gardens after morning tea. She was convinced it meant he wanted to explore their growing attraction.
I think she might be right.
“Thank you for being willing to help me.” I press the book to my chest. “Truly. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Anders grins. “Healers must look out for one another. Especially when one is so talented despite honing her skills under the cursed king’s laws.”
My smile tightens.
I shift my stance.
That’s the second time Anders has mentioned something about a curse.
Should I ask him about Darius? About the darkness coiled inside the Shadow Fae?
Could Anders know about a cure?
No.
If he did, Rian would know. The others would know…
Wouldn’t they?
Heavy bootsteps echo between the shelves. My questions skitter away.
A formidable presence looms at my back. My spine snaps straight as I draw in a breath.
The sharp, spicy scent of incense fills my nose.
Then a fierce growl curls into my ear. “What the hells are you doing here?”