Chapter 14 Strange Ways
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
STRANGE WAYS
ADELINE
Olm is silent inside my head and whatever new spell of energy kept me awake until now is starting to wane. My eyes close but I’m kept awake by the book thumping against my hollow stomach with every step Roane takes.
The light is fading, and it’s only when his steps start echoing that I realize the dimness doesn’t mean I’ve drifted off.
It means we have gone through the gate and entered the library.
Through my lashes, I glimpse a high-ceilinged, domed room, but where are the books? It seems too small for what it’s supposed to house, which is the entirety of magical books, at least the ones caught and surrendered to him.
Soon enough, my question is answered, though, when Roane’s steps take him downward. A staircase is leading below the ground. First, we went up, and now we’re descending into the bowels of the hill.
The cold intensifies and I hear water trickling. A humid library is not the best place to keep books, in my opinion, but it’s so cold that maybe it doesn’t matter?
I’m not a librarian. What do I know?
Roane steps into the new space and it opens up into a temple.
Well, a huge domed structure with enormous columns set in rows, oval lamps hanging between them, emitting a white radiance.
Yeah, ‘temple’ is really the word that springs to mind, not a library.
The columns sparkle and twinkle, move and blur.
Or maybe it’s just my vision, blurring again.
“Ardruna!” Roane yells. “Close the doors.”
The lioness yips in reply in the distance and the sound of something heavy dragging on the floor overhead has me frowning.
The raven flies over us, landing on the floor, which is made up of black and white mosaics. They create the illusion of wells and mounts, making me dizzier still. “Need help?”
“I got this, Tal.” Roane’s voice rumbles in his broad chest, under my ear. “Make sure we’re secure.”
“Druna has it covered,” the raven replies. “I have faith in her.”
“Lazy-ass,” Roane retorts and strides among the columns.
“Hey, I do what is necessary. I’m just a bird.”
“Just a bird, he says,” Roane growls, slipping between two columns and entering a… cave? Alcove? Niche? It’s dark inside. He kneels and lays me down on something soft that smells of him. Blankets. Furs. Pieces of soft paper. Feathers. Wilted grass.
Like an animal’s burrow. A sparrow’s nest. I lie on the soft mound and sigh. He scoots closer and presses something cool against my lips.
Water.
Roused, I reach for the flask he’s holding against my mouth and take greedy gulps, choking on it, then going back for more.
“Easy,” he says. “Slow down.”
Feeling slightly sick, I lie back. My stomach rumbles unpleasantly. I swallow convulsively, hoping not to be sick.
He’s quiet for long moments, and I catch his cool gaze on me. Then he scoots back out.
“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll prepare food.”
Curled up inside his nest, I watch him get to work. He unbuckles and lays his belt with its myriad of sheathed knives and the scimitars to the side. His long black hair has come loose from its braid, hanging over broad shoulders, framing his austere face.
His hands are large but long-fingered, like a musician’s. Grimy, though. A metal ring graces his middle finger. Scars mark his corded forearms, and after seeing what he’s up against, the armies of goblins and the Gods know what else, it’s really small wonder.
And a great wonder he’s still alive.
He hits two stones together, sparks flying, and from one blink to the next, he has a fire going. I almost miss the moment the flames jump on the wood he has assembled.
Not magic. Just craft.
Gods, he’s beautiful. More beautiful every time I look at him.
He may have no magic at all, but is it any wonder I’m attracted to him?
He’s a fae, for all the Gods’ sakes. They may have weird traits like pointy ears and sharp teeth, but they are otherwise so beautiful they hurt my mind.
It’s as if they evolved specifically to lure humans to their beds, to prey on them and sometimes end them.
Which means this isn’t my fault, right? Our stories are full of human girls and boys getting kidnapped by the fae, often going willingly, eyes full of stars and hearts.
Keep your eyes down and your mind clear, I tell myself. Don’t let any such spell affect you. Don’t let his beauty ensnare you.
Ardruna comes down the stairs and pads over to Roane, and I’m momentarily seized by terror again at the sight of her huge frame and those muscles working as she moves.
She sniffs at the provisions he set out by the small fire he just started.
There is a clay pot and he’s now setting a contraption over the flames that’s meant to hold it aloft.
He pours water inside the pot and adds what looks like some sort of dried meat, wild onion bulbs… and greens I don’t recognize.
I’m entranced.
“Is this all we have?” Ardruna growls. “You should have told me to go hunting, Ro.”
He says nothing, focused on cutting the bulbs and greens into the now boiling water. It doesn’t look like much but the smell is making me faint with hunger.
“Is it almost ready?” The raven comes hopping toward the fire. “I’m starving.”
“It’s not for you, you bottomless pit of a bird,” the lioness says. “It’s for her.”
“The whole pot?”
“True, she can’t eat from the pot,” the lioness muses. “It’s too hot. Don’t you have a bowl to serve the soup in, Ro?”
“You know I don’t,” he mutters back, frowning.
“You’re a barbarian, Ro. And you’ve let our guest collapse, not taking proper care of her. You forget she’s human. She has needs.”
“Everyone needs food and water,” I say, feeling strangely defensive. “Don’t you?”
“Calm yourself,” the lioness says. “Hey, Ro, what about that old helmet? You can use that as a bowl.”
Old helmet?
The lioness disappears between the columns, while I resolutely do not stare at the handsome fae guardian. I have no business looking at him and feeling all sorts of hot and bothered.
She returns with what looks like a tin bowl. She drops it beside Roane and nudges him with her head. The scowl on his handsome face is formidable, but he takes the bowl and checks the soup that’s boiling away.
My gaze is inevitably drawn back to him.
The way the muscles shift in his arms, the fabric of his shirt molding over them lovingly, the way his dark lashes sweep his cheeks when he looks down.
The perfect bow of his lips. The strong line of his jaw.
The gold stud twinkling on his left earlobe.
The scar on his cheek, and the edge of another peeking out of the neckline of his leather tunic.
I open my mouth to ask about those scars, exhaustion making me stupid, but I’m saved by the lioness rattling the bowl. Helmet. Whatever it is.
“Is it ready yet?” she asks.
“There isn’t enough food for you,” Roane grunts. “Didn’t you hear?”
“Yeah, I heard,” the lioness growls. “Just make sure she eats. I’ll go hunt.”
“We’ve shut the library doors,” he says. “Stay here.”
“I’ll find something inside the library to eat, then,” she snaps. “Don’t concern yourself.”
Roane grunts again, his gaze flicking to the lioness as she trots away. I want to ask him what she could possibly hunt inside the building, but I’m not sure I want to know. Most of my attention is on the food. He dips the bowl into the pot, filling it up, and turns to me.
Offering it.
My grip shakes as I take it, liquid sloshing over the sides, and with a curse, he grabs my hands, steadying them. Rough palms, long fingers. Strength. Stability.
I meet his gray eyes over the rim. Gods, they are gorgeous. Like limpid lakes, drawing me down into their depths, drowning me.
“Eat,” he says, snatching his hands back.
I blink, snapping back to the here and now. “Don’t you have a spoon?”
He glances around and lifts a hand to scratch his black hair. My mouth twitches. His bewilderment shouldn’t be so cute. “No.”
Nodding, I dip my fingers into the broth to fish out pieces of softened meat and greens. Who cares anyway? I’m not at the Queen’s ball, and although at home we were taught strict table manners and Naida would snap our heads off if we disobeyed, who will see me here?
It’s a temporary situation, and I don’t want to think beyond this bowl of food, beyond the way it warms up my belly and eases the pangs of hunger in my stomach.
The taste is rather bland, no salt, no spices, no herbs, but it’s the best thing right now, although the unknown greens are slightly bitter, and the meat is gamey.
Honestly, I couldn’t care less. I finish the food so fast I feel sick. I give the empty helmet back and swallow hard to keep it all down.
The raven hops closer to the nest. “Are you all right? Is she all right? She looks green in the face. What did you feed her, Ro? You should have gone with a nice chunk of raw meat—”
“I’m fine.” I wave a hand at him, hoping the contents of my stomach don’t make a reappearance. “No raw meat for me, thank you. The broth was… good.”
Roane doesn’t deem this feeble attempt at politeness worthy of a reply, apparently, because he grabs the helmet and refills it, then follows my example and drinks the broth, then fishes out the meat and greens with his fingers to eat.
“Don’t you need a bowl for yourself?” I ask, once I’m certain I won’t be throwing up. “Or some utensils? You do live here, right?”
His gaze slides to me, sharp and narrow. Sometimes I still wonder if he’s deaf, because he takes so long to reply, or doesn’t reply at all.
“He usually eats straight from the pot,” the raven says in his stead. “But eating cooked food is rare. He usually eats whatever is at hand. Not much cooking gets done around here. Raw meat, raw grass, raw roots and raw—”
“Tal,” Roane rumbles, “that’s enough.”
“He isn’t used to civilized food,” the raven whistles, “is all I’m saying.”
“I’m not used to being around people.” Roane frowns even more darkly, probably catching my incredulous look. “What?”
I lift my hands. “Nothing.”
Yet he knows how to cook a soup, so he must have lived with people once. His mystery tugs at my mind, sinking hooks into my thoughts.
“Are there more inhabitants?” I decide to ask. “I thought only the librarian lived here, but this is an entire world.”
“I live alone,” he says.
“Excuse me,” the raven croaks and flutters his wings. “What are we, chopped liver?”
Roane’s scowl doesn’t waver. “Tal, why don’t you go hunt like your friend and leave me in peace?”
“Oh, touchy today, are we? Fine, then.” The raven flies off. “See you later, people.”