Chapter 13 #3
Three thick books were stacked in my arms, drawing them close to my chest. I could keep pulling more from the shelves, but my saddlebag would only hold so many.
My collection of titles included: A Socialite’s Guide to Seraph Etiquette, A Historical Narration of Tironaill, and Deities and Demigods (Darragh’s pick).
I watched him pull a book down from the top of a dusty shelf, the particles of which floated through the sunbeams angling in from the window.
He stalked back toward me, his chestnut eyes gleaming as he stopped in the light.
They had to be the loveliest shade of brown I had ever seen, and they happened to be on the face of a regarded dangerous seraph, though I had yet to see any unwarranted hostility or aggression.
Maybe this was a part of his unpredictability.
An agreeable seraph one moment and a violent brute the next.
Still, I would rather remain pleasant with him as he seemed to have softened around his jagged edges, even though he remained guarded. So did I.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked as he took my books into his arms.
“I am.” The news that Psilas was unable to get back across the barrier and that the scholars weren’t sure how he got here in the first place formed another knot in my chest. What if we never find a way home?
My stomach turned sour at the thought. If the scholars couldn’t help me further, then I would have to find a way myself.
“You are deep in thought,” Darragh said.
I twisted my fingers and peered up at him. “I was wondering if we could go to the farm that Psilas worked at? I know he is long since dead, and it will probably lead to nothing, but I have to check. Even a small piece of information about him could be useful.”
“If you didn’t suggest it, I was going to. It’s the next logical step,” he shrugged.
I let out a breath.
Darragh picked up a book from the table next to him and placed it on top of his stack. “It will take me some time to set up a meeting with the farm staff and the Toolock nobles. Once I do, I can take you there. I’d say in two to three days.”
I gave a genuine smile. “Thank you…Darragh.”
He broke eye contact, nodding in return.
“I wanted to ask if we can go to an apothecary or herbalist before going back to the palace?” I tilted my head as I looked up at him.
He pulled his brow together. “I am not sure what that is.”
“A person who uses plants and herbs to concoct salves, tinctures, or medicinal teas to aid in illnesses and ailments.”
“We call them ‘spagyrists,’ but they are not common. In fact, I can only think of one, and he doesn’t reside in the city. Are you injured or ill?” His eyes drifted up and down my body.
“Oh, no, no. That is my profession in Edenalee, and I just wondered what an apothecary here might look like.”
“Seraphs tend to heal ourselves efficiently enough. For life-threatening injuries, we have seraphs with more powerful healing enchants. There are several in the employ of the crown. I know the healers do purchase some things from the spagyrist to promote healing when warranted, but I haven’t seen his merchant cart in many months. He tends to stick to the forests.”
My body tensed. “Is he a dryad?”
“He is.”
The attack when we first arrived flashed in my mind.
That was enough interaction with dryads for me not to want to do it again.
“Since we won’t be seeking out this spagyrist, am I able to stop at merchants to purchase my own clothes?
I don’t have a say in what dress I wear each day and would love the option to have some clothes that give me more variety.
I only have human currency. They are pure silver coins, but I don’t know if they are going to be accepted in exchange for goods. ”
He nodded. “You can buy whatever you like on the credit of the crown. I was told to grant you purchases of whatever you want.”
“By the Queen?”
Darragh grumbled, “Gabriel.”
“Oh.” I didn’t mean to say it with such disappointment, especially in front of him.
A restrained smile tugged at Darragh’s mouth before he directed me out the front of the library, down the stairs, and toward the outpost building where we collected our horses.
Darragh’s body language became less intense as we moved, and I hoped that meant he felt more at ease around me, which would make me more at ease around him.
Gabriel’s warning about Darragh appeared unfounded.
I knew all too well what it meant to be an outsider to the aristocracy.
Baseless rumors about me were often whispered as a pastime at parties and exchanged between bored socialites whose husbands ignored them outside of their bedchambers.
I suspected this was also Darragh’s experience.
Someone who didn’t fit into their societal expectations, reaping the criticism and disdain as a result.
I understood the implications of his station deeply.
As I tracked his movement toward our horses, the sun making his dark hair gleam, I wondered what else about him I might secretly understand.