Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
D ane and I weave our way through a mostly empty library as we head toward what has quickly become my table. After setting our things up and settling ourselves in, we get back to work so as not to waste the little time we have.
I scan through pages, reading more in depth the ones I find promising, but just as before, it is another night of building frustration as I come up with nothing.
I slam the book closed with a huff and drop it on top of my discard pile.
Dane looks up at me from across the table and mouths, “Are you alright?”
I nod quickly and stand, silently groaning at the painful stretch after sitting hunched over and focused for so long. I gesture to the other side of the library and whisper, “Need a break.”
He nods and looks back down at the page he was reading. I start toward the back of the room, hoping some movement will clear my head.
I take in all the murals painted on the walls and wonder how long they have been there. The colors get brighter and the images start to look less realistic the closer I get to the children’s section. The details are beautiful and intricate, and I even recognize some stories Edmond read to me growing up. The memory brings a smile to my face. I walk through the shelves and let myself be swept away in the memory instead of focusing on the stress of my mother’s time dwindling.
“Straying from your typical reading tonight?”
I startle, and turn to find Estelle standing behind me, holding a small stack of children’s books.
“Oh, no, not really. I just needed a little break.”
Her smile is kind. “Stories are a great way to clear the mind after lots of hard work. I could help you find something if you’d like.” She gestures to the shelves with the stack in her hands.
I am about to tell her no when something stops me. I can’t help but feel the story nagging at me, popping up in the back of my mind.
What if I am not actually doing the research I need to be doing? A lesson that Edmond always made sure I didn’t forget was to be a good leader, you have to see everything from all sides, take in as much information that you can, and then make your decision. I needed to see the entire picture.
“Actually,” I say, turning to face her. “Maybe you can help me.”
I’d gone my entire life hearing nothing of this mythical place, but Dawnlin has now been brought up to me twice. Am I making a mistake ignoring it, not looking into it? If it is a story that actually represents a real place with better tonics and salves, or more advanced healers, then it could be worth finding. The only way to know is to get more information, and if it isn’t true and this place doesn’t exist, I will have more to prove that this is just a myth and settle it once and for all.
“Are there any story books that have the myth about Dawnlin? I was told the story recently and wanted to read it for myself.”
“I believe we have one or two.” She waves for me to follow her as she heads down the aisle of children’s books. “That is a very old story, and there aren’t many places where it is written down. I remember hearing it as a child.” She crouches down and runs her fingers across the spines before pulling out a small, very brittle looking book. She hands it to me and moves farther down the aisle before selecting a larger book that looks just as old.
“These are the two I know at least mention the story. I can check with Agnes when she comes in and see if there are any others she knows of.”
“Oh no, these are perfect. Thank you, Estelle.”
“My pleasure,” she smiles. “You know where to find me should you need help with something else.” She hands me the books and walks back down the aisle, placing a book from her stack back on the shelf as she goes.
I’m not trying to hide these from Dane, but I also don’t want him catching me reading them either, especially not after the conversation in the tavern. I need to read them. Maybe finally getting the full story will help put an end to this myth distraction. I need to focus on actual information, not hope from a children’s book.
I find an empty window seat and plop down on the fluffy, colorful pillows. I wish my room had something like this because I would spend every spare minute in it. I curl my legs under me and pick up the larger book.
The brown leather cover is worn down at the edges, having had its fair share of readers over the years. I hope whatever is inside will give me what I need.
Opening it to the first page, my eyes dance over the swirled handwritten script. I flip through the pages, my focus catching on colorful sketches and pages of written words. There have to be at least thirty stories in here.
I would have loved this book as a child.
Turning back to the table of contents, I scan it quickly, hoping what I need jumps out at me. I start to question Estelle’s memory until a title at the bottom of the list catches my eye.
Finally, someone who knows books as well as Edmond.
The Island Draught .
This has to be it. I flip to the right page and see that there is very little writing, and absolutely no sketches. I scan the words spanning only two pages, but it is almost the same as the story Edmond shared with me. If this is the only information I have to go on, I could feel confident killing the idea once and for all.
I close the book, setting it down on the seat beside me and open the next one.
I turn the pages more slowly, taking my time with the delicate paper. This book is so old, it feels like it is going to fall apart in my hands. There is no table of contents in this one, so instead I turn every page, reading the titles and hoping Estelle was right again.
This text is much more designed for children than the last, each page illustrated with faded color drawings. There’s far less written in this one, and some have no words at all.
I turn another page and my breath catches in my throat.
Finding Dawnlin.
Yes. This is it. Maybe this has the answers I am looking for. Maybe this will point me in the right direction and tell me where to find this land of advanced healers. My eyes scan the spread, searching for the story, but am stunned to find that there are no words.
Instead, the story is told in the pictures. My eyes eat them up, trying to take in every detail. Hopefully there is a map, or some clue I can use to find Dawnlin on the maps in the castle.
The first picture is of a child kneeling next to the bed of what looks like a sick parent. The child has tears running down his face, but is looking up at a healer, hope written across his features. But the healer looks solemn.
My heart breaks for this poor fictional child. I know the feeling that comes with being told there is nothing left to do for a parent, and realizing you will lose them.
I blink rapidly and turn the page to find the child on one side, walking through the streets of his town, tears still streaming down his face. On the other, a hooded man is kneeling in front of him, speaking to the boy and reaching out to take the child’s hand.
Is that The Guardian?
I turn the page again and the scene is completely different, lighter. The child is running and playing with his healthy father, while a hooded figure watches off in the distance.
I flip the next page, holding my breath and hoping for some text, but my eyes meet the title of the next story.
I quickly turn back and stare at the last page.
That’s it? There’s nothing else? No directions, or hints even? How the hell is this story about finding Dawnlin at all? I check the seams to see if any pages had been removed, but the binding is completely intact, and there is no evidence of any torn edges.
I stare at both the books in disbelief. This can’t be the only evidence of Dawnlin in the entire kingdom. These few pages and faded sketches are the only pieces of information to lead anyone to the myth.
My disbelief morphs into anger.
What a terrible thing to do, to give hope that the story actually could be true enough to be written and saved for years, only to leave the reader expecting a magical hooded person will show up and whisk them away to the magical healing solution. But there’s no evidence of how, or what actually happens, only a requirement to blindly trust?
No.
There has to be something I missed.
I can feel my tether of hope pulled tight and ready to snap at any moment.
Laying the books side by side, I flip both to the beginning of the stories. I scan the text of the first, looking for any hints or patterns in the writing, anything that can be turned into a code or cipher, but come up with nothing. I look more closely at the sketches, analyzing every detail, trying to find anything hidden or some elements that could point to directions or a map .
Nothing.
I flip through the pages almost a hundred times as I sit there analyzing every little detail, trying to find something .
That is it.
There is nothing here.
I fall back, my head hitting the wall behind me and let out a frustrated sigh. Pain shoots through my neck as I move, sore from hunching over for so long.
Wait a second.
An image flashes before my eyes, and I bolt upright. I grab the picture book and flip to the page with the crying boy. My heart pounds in my ears as I take in what I had missed before.
There.
Behind the crying boy walking through an old city is a tiny structure, a fountain, overflowing with water.
I draw the book closer, trying to make out more details.
It looks so familiar, almost like the one I had just stumbled upon earlier today. That one looked decrepit and broken, and this one looked beautiful and new. But the shape…
Could it be the same?
I looked at the rest of the sketch, but it looked nothing like Blackwood, mainly because of the lack of forest and fog. If this isn’t Blackwood, could it still be the same fountain? The rest of the pictures were so focused on telling the story. Why would the artist put something in the picture if it wasn’t important?
“If you didn’t want to work with me anymore, you just could have been honest.”
I slam the book shut and look up quickly. “Dane.” His name comes out breathier than I intended, and I quickly clear my throat and breathe through my nose, trying to slow my beating heart.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No, I’m sorry. I guess I took a longer break than I wanted. ”
For the first time since sitting down, I notice the window next to me is pitch black.
Fuck.
I need to get back to the castle.
“That’s alright. Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes.” I stand up quickly and leave the books on the seat. Dane’s eye catches on the stack, but he says nothing as I step in front of them, blocking his view. We collect our unused books from the table and head back to the castle just like the first night.
I force him to stop again, about a block away from the gate, as I pull my hood up and low over my face.
“I’m sorry for keeping you away from your sister late into the evening again. Hopefully she isn’t too upset with you.”
“It’s alright, she doesn’t mind.”
“So,” I start, glancing down at my hands clasped in front of me. Why do I feel nervous saying goodbye to him? We’re friends. Hopefully.
“Are you going to disappear again, or will I see you soon?” I wince at my forwardness, but his grin is reassuring.
“Why Addy? Did you miss me?” His eyes sparkle with the playfulness of his tone.
I almost correct him calling me the wrong name, forgetting for a second that I’m not Lennox, at least not to him. It has been so easy to just be myself this entire evening, and immediately the idea sours with the thought that he has been nothing but forthcoming and I have been lying to him.
He was right earlier. He can’t trust me.
I pretend like I am thinking hard for a moment. “Yes. But I’d be careful if I were you. You said yourself you didn’t know if I was being honest with you.”
He clutches his chest and pretends to stumble backward. “You wound me. You can’t blame me for being cautious.”
I laugh. “No, I cannot. I would do the same.” I definitely will not admit I already had .
“Then I will see you soon, Addy.” He steps forward quickly, his hand finding mine, and raises it to his lips. He brushes them over my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. He releases me and I back away. I tug my hood down again and watch my feet as I walk.
I can’t help the smile pulling at my lips and the feeling that despite heading back to my cage, I’m not ready to give up my coveted freedom yet again. Especially not when I finally have a friend.
“What the fuck , Lennox.”
I gasp and turn toward the darkness that envelops my chambers, instinctively reaching toward my lower back, where my training dagger usually sits.
My hand comes up empty. I don’t have a weapon of my own yet, not until my ceremony, but I instantly realize how quickly I’ve come to rely on it.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Brynne hisses at me as she stomps across my room, coming at me like she does in the ring. She snatches my arm out of the air, pulling it up to look at it.
“And you weren’t armed? Have I taught you nothing?” Her voice is harsh, yelling but in a scary, hushed way, trying to keep from being heard. She looks at my clothes and I watch as fury takes over her face. “You better start speaking, and it better be a good answer.”
“I’m pretty sure nothing I say will be a suitable answer for you, Brynne.” I pull my arm out of her grasp and slip by, unclasping my cloak and throwing it down on the chair in front of the fire. The pillows are crumpled, and remnants of my dinner are scattered across the table. She has been waiting here for quite a while.
“Where. Were. You,” she grinds out.
“In the city.” I don’t let my voice waver at all. I kick off my boots and walk to the closet, beginning to unbutton the dress I need to stow away in the laundry .
“You’re joking.”
I glance over my shoulder and meet her eyes. “No, Brynne, I’m not joking.”
“What the hell could you possibly be doing in the city?”
“It doesn’t matter what I was doing.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.”
I pull a robe from the closet and drape it over my shoulders, cinching it at my waist. “All that matters is that I’m back, and I’m fine.” I am not about to tell her my plan. No one can know. I don’t need the sympathy or the help. This is something I need to do, and only I can do it.
She takes a few aggressive steps toward me, her voice raising slightly more than it was before. “Do you realize I almost had the entire guard out looking for you? If you had come back any later, I would have torn the city apart.”
“I’m here, and I’m fine. You do realize that my father used to spend every day in the city, right? I don’t know why you are so upset that I went out for one night.”
“Because your father was guarded! He was never alone! You clearly don’t have the same sense he did because you went by yourself!”
I roll my eyes at her and sit at the stool of my vanity. “No one knows who I am, Brynne. It’s basically like being protected. I’m invisible.” I pull my hair out of the braids, the golden strands peeking through the surface of the ones I still color dark.
Brynne eyes my hair with a scowl. “Was this the first time?”
I look at her in the mirror, still working my braids free. She tilts her head, waiting for me to answer.
I could refuse to say, and she would know it wasn’t the first time, but I don’t want to just cower to the crown and its rules and expectations. Not anymore. Not after I have discovered an entire world outside of these walls that I easily could have been experiencing. My blind following and fear of the rules and expectations my father placed on me has kept me from living, and I won’t do it anymore. I am going to own my actions .
“No.” I don’t need to say any more. Technically, she answers to me. She can be as pissed as she wants to be, but there’s nothing she can do.
“I need to report this to the king.” She shifts into her more soldierly stance, squaring her feet and clasping her hands behind her back, her duty side taking over. I’ve seen it occasionally over the years, but usually never when we are behind closed doors.
I spin around to face her. “No, Brynne,” I say, now almost yelling the way she was at me. “You are my guard. You are here to protect me . Part of protecting me is keeping this from my father. I promise you, I would not be doing this without good reason.”
“It’s my duty to the throne,” she starts.
“Your duty is to me!” My anger catches her off guard and she clamps her mouth shut. My shoulders drop as I let out a long breath. “I’m sorry Brynne. I’m not mad at you. I understand I put you in a hard position, but please. I’m begging you, don’t do this. I know you care about me just as much as you care about your duty.” She shifts on her feet, and I see her face soften slightly.
“I need this, Brynne,” I plead with her.
She glances down at the floor, her face staying stoic before she looks back up to meet my gaze.
“Has anyone seen you?”
“Obviously. I can’t hide myself from everyone on the streets. But I haven’t gotten so much as a second glance. I do my best to hide myself. I color my hair darker, and I go by a different name.”
She nods.
“The guards at the gate haven’t noticed.”
She gapes at me before she recovers. Her mouth closes and her nostrils flare. “Fucking imbeciles. They are going to be replaced immediately.”
“No, Brynne, don’t. Don’t do anything that will call attention to this. They’ve been kind and attentive to their position. They’re just being tricked. It is on me, not on them.”
“I’ll need to accompany you if you go out again. ”
“You can’t Brynne. It will be too obvious. You’re the Second Guard. You aren’t exactly inconspicuous.”
She folds her arms over her chest and remains silent for a few moments. “I don’t like this Lennox.”
“You don’t have to like it, but you have to follow my order.”
Her jaw clenches. She knows she has to listen unless my safety is in immediate danger, which it isn’t. I have proven that I am safe coming home, even late at night.
“You will be armed next time, just like we’ve practiced.”
“Fine,” I agree with a nod.
She visibly relaxes before spinning on her heel and walking toward the door. She places her hand on the handle, but before pushing it open, she turns and looks back at me.
“As your guard, I’m furious with you right now. But as your friend,” she pauses and gives me a small smile. “I’m proud of you.”
I smile back at her. “Thanks, Brynne.” I hope she can see my relief at her words.
She pauses for a beat more.
“But I’ll be standing guard in front of your door for the foreseeable future.” She turns the handle and is out the door, closing it behind her before I can respond.