Chapter 20 #2
“I’ll leave you to your books.” Amaris turned to head back to the tower. Another failed mission, due to Pricilla’s love for late-night reading.
“I have all night to put those away. Join me for a bit?” Pricilla latched on to her arm, whisking her away. “I want to show you this extraordinary book I’ve been flipping through.”
If Pricilla moved any faster, Amaris would’ve found her legs flailing behind her as they sped toward her recess at the back of the library.
Pricilla’s excitement was an interesting contrast to Viv’s brute honesty, punchy quips, and vulgar stories.
Amaris clung to the image of her best friend: Viv’s black jeans, combat boots, and leather jacket.
A screech ripped the picture from Amaris’s mind as Pricilla shoved one of the worn chairs to post up beside her desk.
As usual, a large scroll was held down with whatever Pricilla seemed to get her hands on. Tonight, it was a brass candle holder, a blue slipper, and two books on the other corners. Amaris’s finger skimmed the text, but it was in a script of different symbols.
“What language is this?” Amaris asked.
Pricilla threw her slipper over her shoulder and let the scroll roll up. “Gorrin.” She replaced the scroll with a large book. Dust billowed around them and flew up Amaris’s sinuses. “This is Hofati.”
“Can you read them?” Amaris asked, her eyes watering as she pinched her nose.
“Gorrin, yes, but I’m still learning to read Hofati. It’s a dead language and not many scholars or tutors teach it anymore.” Pricilla opened the book, thumbing the edges until she came to a marked page and shoved the book in Amaris’s face. “What I wanted to show you are the paintings.”
“How…? Did Theodoric tell you?” He’d been the only person she confided in about her love for art.
“He may have mentioned it. What do you think?”
Amaris returned her attention to the page. It was more a work of art than a book, with bright yellows and oranges jumping out. Amaris traced the gold painted edge of a sunset. “Is this gold?”
“Many rulers had their important texts or pages transcribed with the material.” Pricilla caressed the page, her dainty hands brushing against the shimmering symbols before she flipped to the front. The entire first page was a long paragraph of the decorative markings.
Amaris pulled from the book and wandered toward the wall of shelves to discover her own treasure. What if there was something that could help with her situation? Her finger slid across the bindings while she tilted her head to read each of the spines.
“Over there, you’ll mainly find legends, mythology, and magic.”
Her fingers stopped. “Magic, you say?”
“Would you think I’m crazy if I told you I believe magic still exists?” Pricilla lowered her voice, as if the books had ears and were likely to mock her.
“Maybe.”
“Many find the idea repulsive, but you seemed intrigued to learn more when I first met you.” Pricilla jumped from the desk chair and ran her hand over the tomes filling her space with mystery and wonder. “The myths speak of a time before the Necrotic Ages blessed with magic.”
Necrotic Ages? Amaris pondered this, then said, “But they’re just myths, right? Not real history?”
“Myths are history,” she snorted. “The stories might be different, but they all speak of the same thing…magic. One depicts ancient beings with everlasting life, another people with the ability to take on another form.”
Amaris pictured Pricilla’s bedroom with a hidden corkboard and red strings running from each title and the exact line adding to her suspicions. “What makes you think magic still exists?”
“You know when you just have this feeling that something’s there?”
“I think I know what you mean,” Amaris said.
Pricilla picked up the rolled scroll, looking defeated, with her shoulders hunched forward.
“What kind of magic was there?”
Pricilla gazed at the rolled piece of parchment in her hand. “I assume people had magic that allowed them to do things to make mundane tasks easier.”
“It doesn’t say?”
“Not exactly. It speaks of magic running through the veins of Magoria and people accomplishing the extraordinary, but there aren’t specific details.
A few stories tell of people with gifts, like wielding fire or water, but that must be taken with a grain of salt, like this.
” Pricilla skipped over to her loose plank, retrieving a brown leather journal and tossing it to Amaris.
For being a librarian, she seemed to let books fall wherever she pleased.
“I found that a few years ago but don’t know what to make of it. ”
Amaris’s palms grew sweaty as she anticipated what she was about to unleash. She hoped she wasn’t about to read about blood magic or voodoo. At the top of the first journal entry was scribbled 1994.
“What do you think?”
Amaris barely had the ability to form a single line of thought, let alone speak. According to Alan, Magoria was well off into the six thousand years already. Her mouth dried as she read the first entry.
I’ve found myself in the most precarious of circumstances.
I tried to hide who I was to protect myself, but there wasn’t anything I could do when the anger ripped through me.
I couldn’t stop the transformation, so I fled.
It’d been years since I slipped up, and I’d prayed to Izmir that I could once again build a new life.
I ran to the edge of Charibert, hoping I’d fall into the Black Sea and finally be swept up into the rocks to meet my final demise. Alas, the realm had other plans for me. I scaled the nearest tree, narrowly avoiding the man with his sword drawn and a piercing gleam in his eyes.
I thought it would finally be the end to my life.
I felt as though I’d lived a hundred lifetimes and was prepared to give it all away.
I neither felt the pain nor remembered anything beyond that.
I fell from the tree, but instead of meeting the blade of the man, I was sprawled on a rough terrain so unlike the cobblestone streets.
The realm around me buzzed with activity.
Loud wails and triumphant calls pounded against my ears.
People were everywhere. I was hardly able to stand without being trampled in the process.
The structures around me towered far into the clouds.
They were taller than any building I’d ever seen in Godwin.
Amaris’s reread the entry to be sure she hadn’t imagined it.
“I presume you’re as baffled as I was when I read it.”
“Yeah,” Amaris whispered. She went to flip to the next entry, when a shadow caught her eye. Amaris stretched her neck to gaze down the aisle and spotted Theodoric passing by. Crap.
Pricilla loomed over her shoulder. “What are we looking at?”
“Theodoric.” Amaris found herself grumbling his name.
“What about him?”
Amaris rolled her eyes.
“I’m all ears if you need to talk,” Pricilla offered. “If you’re worried I might tell anyone, I promise you, most of my friends are leather-bound and crinkly.”
It’s not like she hated the man anymore. He’d quit treating her like she was the last kid picked for dodgeball, but before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “He’s so closed off.”
“I picked up there aren’t entirely positive feelings.”
Amaris planted her face into a palm. “He’s insufferable sometimes.” Maybe she was a little upset about her limited freedom to even go to the bathroom by herself.
“He’s been like that since he’s been back.” Pricilla sat and pulled her knee under her. “He only came back last season, and he…well…he wasn’t so happy anymore.”
Amaris jabbed a finger over her shoulder. “That man, happy?”
“Believe it or not, he used to be quite boisterous,” she sighed. “Arrogant at times, but he also loved to laugh.”
Standing, Amaris gripped the journal to her chest. She needed to run back up the stairs before he thought she’d actually tried to escape. “Did he want to go?”
“They all did back then,” Pricilla whispered, her expression further fading to sorrow.
Amaris wanted to stay and console her, but she had to go. “Can I borrow this?”
Pricilla nodded, and Amaris was jogging down the aisle of books, hoping she’d catch up to Theodoric before he had a temper tantrum.
She ran toward the tower and bounded up the steps, barely taking notice of the darkness as the torches burned out.
She rounded the next landing and smacked into the wall.
Nope, scratch that. Theodoric’s ridiculously muscular chest. She stumbled back, her feet sliding off the edge of the steps. He grasped her shoulders, keeping her from meeting an untimely demise.
“Do you ever skip chest day?” Amaris groaned, rubbing her nose, which had gotten the brunt of his impenetrable force.
“What are you doing? I said I was coming back to escort you.”
“I know. I was talking with Pricilla,” she muttered, gripping her nose until the burning subsided.
Maybe she’d be like him and have a concussion, lasting her weeks.
He’d finally allowed her to make him something the other day, after she grew tired of him wincing and groaning about it.
Her exact words had been, Let me make you a tonic, or I’m making good on your father’s accusations and smothering you with one of Pricilla’s stained couch cushions. He hadn’t complained since.
“You must be careful—”
“Oh please, Pricilla is likely the last person who would spout off to your father about me. She keeps to those books of hers.”
“I’m well aware that she’s a wallflower, but there are others who enjoy the privacy of the library at night.”
Amaris squinted, attempting to make out whatever details of his face she could. With Pricilla’s grief-stricken expression, she wondered if there was more to their relationship. It was odd, she referred to him as Captain, but he’d brushed her tear away the other day.
“Have you and Pricilla ever…?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know?” Amaris muttered, combing through her hair. Asking about his relationships seemed too personal, but her lips kept going. “Knocking boots, bedroom rodeo, doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch?” I hang out with Viv too much.
“Are you attempting to ask if Pricilla and I have ever had intimate relations?” Annoyance seeped from him.
“I was going to say bumping uglies, but if you want to be all sophisticated, then yeah.” Amaris smiled, feeling completely stupid.
“No, Pricilla and I are—”
“No judgment if you two—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he groaned.
“I was going to say if you’re childhood friends, that’s cool too. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” She couldn’t see the expression he gave her, but she knew it wasn’t a smile. She was thankful he couldn’t see her face either, or the embarrassment spreading across her cheeks.
“As we both have a love for books, we’ve become acquainted with one another.”
“Acquainted?” Amaris questioned. “Seriously, you can’t say the word friends? Do you even have those?”
“I do have friends, but she prefers to refer to me by my title. As a servant of the manor, she has declined an official friendship.”
Amaris let out a long and exaggerated groan, brushing his hold on her arms. “That sounds like formal garbage. Why can’t you be normal?”
“I’m of noble blood. There’s no such thing as normal.”
Amaris raised her nose in the air, brushing the end as she spoke with a nasally voice. “I’m a snobby noble. All look upon me in shame.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he whispered, pushing past her to descend the steps.
“Hey, I’m not the one with blood of gold coursing through my veins. Do you shit diamonds and wipe your ass with dollar bills too?”
“How does anyone tolerate you?”
They stepped out into the library, and Amaris held the journal tight to her chest. Her mind begged to devour the rest of the entries. Whoever the journal belonged to, they had a lot of explaining to do.
“I’m an absolute hoot back home.”
He didn’t even let out a tiny laugh, but Amaris’s was an awkward chuckle.
She tried to picture him smiling and hunching forward in laughter.
She even eyed him in her periphery to see if he had crow’s feet around his eyes.
Of all the people who could’ve believed she wasn’t a murderer, it had to be him.
The giant with a face of stone, who no longer had an ounce of humor in his body.