Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FIND YOURSELF
ADELINE
“See?” Olm whispers as I trudge after Roane and Ardruna, back through the dim tunnel with its moss-covered walls and slippery floor. “Didn’t I say he’s a barbarian?”
“He wants me to go home.” I press a hand to my cleavage where I’ve hidden the book. “That’s what I want, too.”
“The way of expressing a sentiment matters,” Olm insists, and okay, he’s right.
And yet it doesn’t matter at all. Soon I’ll be on my way back to rejoin my parents and return to my routine, even if it’s thieving to feed my family. I’ll be glad to be back, I tell myself, with people who care for me and don’t talk with grunts when they are annoyed.
“Didn’t they say you can’t leave here?” Olm asks.
“They did, but Roane seems convinced he can get me out.”
“Or maybe that’s just what he wants,” Olm argues. “He doesn’t want you around. Doesn’t care for your company.”
I wince. Roane’s opinion of me shouldn’t count; his desire to see me leave, either.
This is stupid. I’m dying to go. Check on Eiras.
Check on my parents. Leave this crazy and dangerous place behind.
This was never my destiny. I’m a human, city girl who loves books.
Normal books. Where the monsters stay in the pages.
The passage comes to an end and we exit back into the great hall. Talton flies up and lands on Roane’s shoulder, as Ardruna trots by his side. Roane’s hand brushes over her back, fingers sifting through the white fur, and I slow to a stop.
He loves his companions. That small gesture of affection says a lot. I don’t understand why it touches me so deeply. This whole situation is messing with my mind, my emotions constantly shifting between terror, pity and a golden nostalgia.
“Aline!” Talton flies off Roane’s shoulder and circles over me. “Why have you stopped?”
“I was just lost in thought.” I smile up at him. “Go on, I’ll catch up.”
Croaking, he flies over Roane and Ardruna and vanishes deeper inside the hall. “Keep up!”
“Trying…” I hurry to reach them. “Wait.”
The lioness halts and turns to look at me. “How is your side?”
Casting furtive sideways glances to Roane who seems to be ignoring me, even though he has stopped, too, I shrug. “I’ll live.”
We resume walking and he doesn’t look at me as we move between the two rows of columns, his profile like a statue’s, his expression stoic and his mouth tight.
I think about what Olm said. Roane doesn’t particularly like me. He doesn’t know me, had to rescue me a couple of times already and share his probably meager food provisions with me. I’m disrupting his lifestyle, his space, and he may be worried about how to protect me and get me out of here.
Any sane person would be worried.
And maybe I’m not such good company. Eiras has always said I’m a pain in the backside, but Eiras loves me as a brother would. Roane doesn’t have such an obligation.
“Still lost in thought?” Talton asks.
I gasp when the raven lands on my shoulder, claws digging into my skin. “Yes.”
“Then find yourself. Be present when we enter the sanctum.”
“A sanctum. Is this a temple, then, after all?”
“Who knows what it used to be?” Talton twists his little black head around and digs his beak into his wing, fluffing it out. “Who knows anything at all, really?”
“About this place?”
“About anything. Isn’t that what I said?”
Such a weird bird.
I find myself glancing the other way time and again as we keep going, seeking out Roane’s stony profile. His resolve not to look at me is impressive. Or perhaps I just don’t matter enough for him to check on me.
…his long fingers holding the knife… clenching into a fist… tracing my face…
I bump into something and gasp, only to find a hand gripping my shoulder, shoving me back a pace.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Roane demands. “Or your ears, for that matter?”
“I…”
“I said, we’re here.”
The door to the sanctum is huge and grand. Double and tall, it’s wrought of iron or some other polished metal, carved with symbols, similar to the ones I’ve noticed on the columns. It shimmers as I stare at it, playing with the light of the swaying lamps.
However, it doesn’t seem to have a knob or handle. Or a keyhole. Or any obvious way of opening it.
“Is it magic?” I clear my throat. “Do you need magic to open the door?”
He lifts a brow, glancing down at me. “I’ve unsealed it. Now you just need to push.”
I put my hand on it and push, bowing my head, but the door doesn’t budge.
“Let me.” He places his hand beside mine—those long fingers I’ve been obsessing over, the dark ring flashing on the middle one, those strong hands.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I unable to stop staring at him? I thought I couldn’t be more embarrassed. My face aflame, I let him shove the double doors open, feeling small, weak and inadequate.
For the record, aristocrats and nobles often talk about such qualities as being lady-like, having a strong man taking care of you as being romantic, but I’m not an aristocrat and I doubt Roane enjoys taking care of me. And speaking of whom…
He lets his hand drop to his side without opening the double doors. “You should give me that book. It’s not safe for you to have it.”
“I’ve been handling it for days now. Olm wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do.”
Roane’s mouth purses as if he’s sucked on a lemon.
Ardruna pads closer, her white fur taking on a bluish tinge in the diffuse light. “Maybe he won’t. But sometimes magical books lash out once they realize they are about to be abandoned. Sometimes we receive books covered in blood and bits of flesh.”
“You’re not serious.” Nausea rises in my throat. “Olm didn’t try to harm me when I entered the library. In fact, he helped me solve the riddle.”
Now Roane’s dark brows rise.
“That’s fascinating news,” Ardruna says drily. She really dislikes poor Olm. “But it doesn’t matter. Binding the books brings out their darker nature. In fact, you should step outside as we wrangle this book onto a shelf.”
“Wrangle. As if they’re cattle.”
Talton lets out a shrieking laugh. “Exactly! But they are vicious, they can unleash the monsters—”
“—from their pages.” I sigh. “Yes, I know. You’ve said. Olm won’t do that.”
“Are you saying he never threatened such a thing?”
I don’t reply to that. “I really want to see the books.”
Roane rolls his eyes up as if praying for guidance. “I could lock you out of the sanctum.”
“Ro,” Talton says, “let her come. It will be fine. We can be careful.”
This time, Roane heaves a sigh. “Right.” Finally, he pushes the double doors open and steps through. “So, are you coming in or not?”
I hurry inside, humiliation boiling into resentment. “Relax. I won’t waste much more of your precious time.”
“We’ll see about that.” He stalks into the sanctum with that easy grace that captivates me so much.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I call after him.
“Ignore him.” Ardruna pads inside, followed by Talton. “He’s in one of his moods.”
“His tantrums,” Talton says.
“Don’t exaggerate,” Ardruna growls.
“At least he’s not sulking.”
“I can hear you,” Roane says from up ahead. “I’m not deaf.”
“Good,” Talton says. “I was starting to get worried. So hear this: you’re still not taking good care of your guest.”
And Roane stops, going very still. “What?”
“Tal,” Ardruna says in a warning tone. “Don’t be a tit.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the raven croaks, “did I step on any toes?”
Roane slowly turns around, those dark brows slashing over his eyes. “If you have any complaints, feel free to leave. All of you.”
“Ouch,” Talton says.
But I’m distracted by the sight around me.
If I thought the hall looked like a temple, this place, this sanctum is really living up to its name.
Its floor and walls sparkle with polished stone and crystals, and statues glimmer further, in the dimness of its corners.
There’s a mystical air about it that stops my breath.
“Is this the library?” I ask. “The actual library?”
Roane’s expression softens for a moment. Then he sweeps a hand behind him. “Almost there.”
“Come on, girl.” Ardruna starts in the indicated direction. “We’ve delayed this long enough.”
With the book held in my hand, I join them, burrowing deeper into this strange place, my eyes getting accustomed to the low, bluish light that seems to seep out of the walls. The air here feels dry, so dry it hurts when I breathe, and the cold turns my breaths into white clouds.
Glancing down, I start.
The floor is… a map. Made of small, colorful stones, it depicts what has to be the world of Areon. The city, the hills, the meadows, and a river running through, called Achlys. At the center of the city stands the library, marked with a golden star.
This is where we are now. Inside that star that’s full of magic.
The areas around the city have names, and they are vaguely familiar.
They sound like book titles I’ve seen or heard of before.
But we don’t linger and I don’t want to be left behind in this place, not when the walls seem to writhe and my stomach feels queasy with unease. Awe has given way to disquiet.
Olm hisses. “I don’t like this place.”
“I have to admit you’re not the only one,” I whisper.
Ardruna nudges me with her big furry head. “Hurry up.”
Roane, who is striding ahead, lifts his hand high and a light springs from it. It makes me gasp—in shock, in delight—because despite my apprehension, I love magic.
There it is. I’ve admitted it. It’s frowned upon these days, because of magic’s abuse by the fae and resulting in its current bad name, but I’m the kind of girl who’ll stand around in the city fairs, hoping to catch sight of fae performers who like to add a touch of magic to their shows, sending stars cascading over the public, flowers bursting out of cups of water, and phantom cats leaping out of walls.
It was to be expected. I was raised on fairytales, legends and histories, as much as on milk and bread.
Raised on the wondrous tales of fae magic, now dwindling, tales of how the strongest magic wielders fled to the mountains and became the dark fae, the feats they can accomplish, the ways in which they can reshape the world.
What a strange fate for the race that once ruled all other races.
What kind of magic does Roane wield? What element does he belong to? Where is his family, his roots?
“Halt.” Holding his hand with the flaring light up high, he turns in a circle, illuminating the vast space we’re standing in.
That’s when I see it. The faint light on the walls is coming from… the books. From their spines, their pressed pages, their covers. I finally gaze on them, on the hoard of magical books bound to the shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling.
Roane’s light moves from shelf to shelf, a wide beam revealing swirling dust and faded colors on leather covers, yellowed pages and the occasional rat.
I flinch. “There are rodents in here.”
“That’s the least of this library’s problems,” Ardruna says. “If they don’t get gobbled down by the books and manage to munch on the pages, they often die.”
“Poison?”
“Magic. It’s almost the same thing.”
“Good Gods.” I watch as Roane moves away and shines that beam further. “What’s taking him so long? What is he doing?”
“Looking for a free space for your book,” Ardruna says.
“It’s not mine,” I whisper.
“Am I not?” Olm murmurs in my mind. “Am I not yours?”
“Stop,” I hiss. “We came here for this. For you to find a place on those shelves.”
“I didn’t follow you for this.”
“Follow me? As if you had a choice.”
“Didn’t I?” he asks, the words a breath inside my mind.
More unsettled by the moment, I hurry after Roane. The light seems to emanate from his fingers, the ring burning with a dark radiance.
The beam falls on a lectern on a raised dais. A large book is lying open on top of it.
“The center,” Roane whispers as I catch up with him. “It’s not a sight many mortals have been graced with.”
“What book is that?”
“Which other,” Ardruna says, padding after us, “than the Book of Areon?”
My breath catches. “Oh Gods, it’s here. Of course it’s here.”
“It’s the foundation of the library. The cornerstone.”
“Can I see it?”
Roane’s gaze has turned distant and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s full of yearning.
But he says nothing and I rush to the lectern. This is a legendary book. I didn’t even think it actually existed until now. This is like visiting the cottage where Little Redcap met the Black Wolf, or the glass coffin where Lily-White lay until her prince rode by and saw her.
It’s better than magic and city fairs. Better than seeing the fae perform tricks with glowing moths and rabbits appearing out of thin air.
“Aline, wait.” Roane unfolds his hand, the one without the ring, without the magical light, and offers it to me as I put my foot on the first step leading up to the dais. “Here.”
It takes me a moment to realize he isn’t trying to stop me; he’s trying to assist me.
“So you do have some manners,” I mumble to cover up my surprise. I take his hand and he pulls me up the three steps. “I’m shocked.”
“I wasn’t born a barbarian, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
His mouth twitches just a little. His hand is still wrapped around mine. He lifts it until his warm breath caresses my fingers. “I know how to hold a lady.”
“Never said I was one.”
“A woman, then. A woman like you, made of gemstones and scented wood, made of flowers and stars. Made of fire.”
“Roane…” Why is he saying such things?
He swallows. Brushes his lips over my knuckles. Then shudders, releasing my hand. “The Book of Areon… is not a toy.”
“I’ve never considered books to be toys,” I say, a coolness entering my voice. “Have you?”
“It’s a powerful relic,” he goes on as if I haven’t spoken. “Don’t touch it. Better still if you keep far away from it.”
“Yet here you are, helping me up so I can see it.”
A huff leaves his lips. “You’re clumsy. I wasn’t going to let you trip and break a bone. Then I’d have to ferry you around constantly and I have better things to do.”
“… and here I was, falling for your charming manners.” I yank my hand out of his. “I know how to handle books, thank you. I was raised by a famed storyteller and former head librarian.”
“You’ve never met books like these,” he says, matching my every step as I approach the lectern. “And this is my library, lady. So forgive me if I keep watch.”