Chapter 13 Open Your Eyes
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OPEN YOUR EYES
ADELINE
“That was quite the melodramatic question,” I grouse as we resume walking down the street with all the goblin corpses littering it. I hesitate beside one that seems to be melting into the cobbles. A small symbol is branded into the creature’s neck in the form of a jagged line.
Unless it’s a scar?
Roane doesn’t wait for me, big surprise, and I scramble after him. I need to stop getting distracted, but honestly, can’t he just slow down for a moment?
The end of the skirmish is a blur. Somehow, Roane and his unlikely companions manage to finish off the goblins. I have impressions of him spinning around, his scimitars tracing shining lines in the air, black blood spraying, and then…
Then the book was dropped back into my lap by a blood-spattered lioness and a hand grabbed mine, hauling me to my feet. That was Roane, pulling me after him without a word.
Other than his melodramatic question, that is.
This street feels endless. Cold slices through me, gnawing on my bones. I try to keep up with the trio but after a while, I find my steps slowing despite my resolve.
“Aline.” Olm had been quiet since I threw his book at the goblin, but now he rouses himself. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I dismiss the fire in my side where the goblin got me and the way my vision seems to be narrowing. “I’m not dead, am I? Not bleeding out, either. In my expert opinion, I’ll be fine once I can rest and eat.”
“Tell them.”
My breathing echoes in my ears. Olm’s voice helps keep me awake. “I will. I just need to… catch up with them.”
“Stop. Stop and they’ll let you rest.”
“You just don’t want me to reach the library because I’ll leave you there.”
“You think me this petty?” he asks.
“Yes. Well, not necessarily petty…” Black spots swim in my eyes. I blink furiously to clear them. “Only afraid.”
“I know no fear.”
“Sure, Olm. Keep telling yourself that.” My dress is stuck to my back with sweat. It’s running down my face, despite the cold, stinging my eyes. Ahead, Roane is striding up the road as if he could do this all day, and my knees keep folding.
“Aline.” Olm sounds frantic. “Tell them to stop.”
“No. I’m already a burden. I can’t fight…”
“You only came here to leave a book! You never pretended to be a warrior.”
He’s right. And every step feels heavier. My legs tremble. My knees buckle.
“Roane!” I call out. “I… have to stop, I…”
I stumble as he turns, and I think I see his eyes widening in alarm as I go down.
He’s inhumanly fast, racing back toward me and catching me as my knees hit the paved road. He sweeps me into his arms. “What’s wrong?”
My head lolls against his chest. “Roane…”
“Human, I asked if anything was wrong.”
“Aline,” I whisper. The strength in his arms grounds me, reassures me. I want to lift my lashes but they’re as heavy as my legs. Heavy as lead.
“Aline?”
“My name is Adeline. Aline, for short,” I mumble. “I’m okay, just hungry and above all really thirsty—”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I finally manage to blink through the encroaching darkness up at his face, the dark scowl, the dark strands clinging to his temples and neck.
The scar on his cheek. The lines of a mark on his neck, peeking from under his long hair.
I want to ask him about it, about the marks and scars, because they remind me of my own little mark, but speaking feels like too much effort.
“Let’s find a safer place to stop.” He’s carrying me as if I weigh nothing, striding away once more. “Before something else decides to take a bite out of us.”
Being carried in his arms feels like I’m flying high above the ground. I’m dizzy, my side still burns, and everything has a dream-like quality.
Where is he taking me? The book is resting on my middle, and I don’t remember putting it there. My cheek is pressed to Roane’s chest, against his warm leathers.
Olm is quiet.
The raven flies over us, uphill, the lioness loping in its wake, leaving us to follow.
It’s only when Roane stops, turning to glance down, that I realize we’ve been going up a staircase, the steps wide and worn.
I roll my head to look. The city sprawls below, including the avenue where we fought the goblins and the side streets cutting around dilapidated mansions and crumbling low houses.
Trees grow through the ruins and hedges overflow onto the cobbles.
As Roane resumes climbing, I become aware of a distant, steady drum beating. It takes me a while to realize it’s his heartbeat.
I blink against the firm pectoral I’m mashed against, letting this new reality sink in.
I’m being carried by a tall, grumpy fae warrior who happens to be the guardian librarian of the Areon, a haunted book resting on my stomach, a lioness and a raven leading the way…
in a world inside a mountain, which is apparently full of monsters, a world within a hollow world. A mirror within a mirror.
How did this happen?
Why doesn’t anyone know about this?
Why were the tales Naida told me so vague and unhelpful?
The silence is only making the buzzing inside my head louder. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I think I hear distant screeches and howls, but it could be the wind.
It’s not windy now, though, and Roane’s warmth is seeping into me, lulling me into sleep. So warm… The rhythm of his steps and the pace of his heart are as much a hug as his arms around me.
Then I’m jolted out of sleep when he shakes me, rattling the insides of my head. “Stay awake.”
“What…?”
“Don’t fall asleep.”
I blink heavy lashes. “I’m just resting my eyes…”
“Your heart is beating too slowly. I can hear it. Stay awake.”
“But I…”
“You could die. For all the Gods’ sakes, Aline, open your eyes! Keep your gaze on me.”
The force of that command hits me like lightning, dispelling the drowsiness, lifting the weight off my lids. The use of my name is a spell, dragging me back into consciousness screaming and kicking.
Is it really magic, though? I gaze up at his determined face, the stray strands of black hair clinging to his brow and temples, the clenched jaw and gray eyes that are shining like crystals.
Whoa. Pretty.
My breath catches. My body responds—sluggishly, for sure, but parts of it awake as if the command touched every part of me.
My focus snags on details, like the scar on his cheek, a clean cut but badly healed, another smaller scar through a dark brow, a small golden stud in one earlobe, and black dots inked along the tips of his ears.
He looks… wild. Feral. Dangerous.
It’s definitely magic. The lust gripping my body can’t be natural, especially when I was, according to him, close to death mere moments ago.
My heart is pounding now, racing.
The same way he’s racing up the steps—toward yet another gate cut in the hillside. Mutilated statues stand on either side and the double doors are so tall I have to crane my neck to see the arch capping them.
We’ve arrived. I know without being told that we’ve reached the true Library of Areon.