Chapter 30
Chapter
He believes I chose the crown over brotherhood.
If only he knew…
I chose her.
I will always choose her.
The library is a massive house that, by all accounts, shouldn’t be standing. My head tilts from side to side as my eyes struggle to make sense of the gravity defying, off-center levels.
“It almost looks like…a pile of books,” I breathe in wonder.
“If you think that’s neat, wait until you get inside.” Myrrdin beams as he jogs up the colorful steps toward the keyhole-shaped door.
“How peculiar,” I mutter, smiling for what feels like the first time in days.
“You have no idea,” he laughs, stepping aside to let me enter.
He was right.
My jaw nearly hits the floor as I take in the dozens of ladders stretching toward the multicolored levels above, some seeming to climb forever.
And the books…they’re everywhere. Lining the shelves.
Resting in neat, towering stacks across the floor.
They fill every nook and corner of the library, while colorful lanterns bathe the space in warm light and the violet sky gleams through the stained-glass windows, scattering jewel toned reflections all around.
“Oh, Myrrdin…” I try to speak, but the sight alone steals every word I can think to say.
“Come on.” He gently tugs on the sleeve of my dress. “I need to drop something off, and then we’ll find those answers you’re looking for.”
I eagerly fall into step beside him as he guides me from floor to floor, each one more whimsical than the last.
One floor is awash in brightly painted colors, its walls lined with painted portraits of people in every imaginable hue.
Another is cloaked in black from floor to ceiling, with scatterings of chalk-written passages of travelers before.
On every level, oversized cushions cradle patrons lost in the pages of distant worlds.
If only staying lost were that easy.
I twirl around in wonder of it all, when we pass a small group of patrons sitting cross-legged on the floor between towering bookshelves.
“Grimm!” one of the girls calls, springing eagerly to her feet. A rosy blush blooms across Myrrdin’s cheeks as the petite brunette skips our way.
“Grimm?” I whisper, blinking up at him.
“My last name.” One corner of his mouth quirks upward as he turns toward the girl. “Hello, Rose.”
“How long has it been?” Rose asks, her big brown eyes twinkling up at him.
“Far too long, I fear.” Myrrdin’s voice cracks, his expression unlike any I’ve seen on him before. It’s lopsided and awkward—not at all like the knight I know. Though something tells me Rose knows him far better.
“And who is this?” Rose asks, turning her warm gaze to me.
Myrrdin straightens, as though suddenly remembering I was here.
“My apologies,” he begins. “This is—”
“Sunday,” I smile, offering a small bow.
Myrrdin’s brows knit, but if he wonders why I didn’t introduce myself as the princess, he doesn’t say.
“Sunday,” Rose repeats softly, taking my cold hand in hers without flinching. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you into my home.”
“Thank you—wait,” I blink. “This is your home?”
The smile that spreads across her face is positively radiant. She nods, giving a little twirl in her long-sleeved, pale yellow dress.
“It is!” she exclaims. “Well, technically my mother’s. But what’s theirs is ours, right?” She winks, playfully nudging my arm.
“Right.” I force a laugh, hiding just how painfully aware I am of that truth.
Not well enough.
Myrrdin sees straight through the smile plastered beneath the hollows of my cheeks and is already devising a plan of action.
“It’s been so lovely seeing you, Rose. But…we really can’t stay for long,” he says.
Rose’s face falls, mirroring the disappointment in Myrrdin’s eyes.
“You’re leaving?” She asks. “But you’ve only just arrived.”
Myrrdin struggles to tighten his resolve, but he isn’t the kind of man to shirk his duties for his own desires, even if those desires involve a beautiful young woman who’s clearly smitten with him.
Luckily, for the both of them, I have no such obligations.
Well, aside from marrying the prince—which is arguably the most painstaking duty of them all.
But he isn’t here, we are, and I intend to use every second of his absence to prove Rhidland right. To be the good.
Starting with giving these two some time to catch up.
“You needn’t hurry,” I chime in before Myrrdin can send her away.
He shoots me a puzzled look, but I don’t miss the way his shoulders ease down from around his ears.
“As it stands, I have some baking questions that need tending to,” I say, slowly backing away. “If you could just—”
Oof!
Rose pulls me into a tight hug, and I let out a surprised breath. She’s far stronger than she looks.
“Thank you,” she whispers, low enough that only I can hear.
I relax into her embrace. “Of course.”
Over her shoulder, Myrrdin tips his head in thanks, his smile already returning.
I ease out of Rose’s embrace, surprised by how reluctant I am to let her go.
“Before you step away, there’s something I need you to remember,” Myrrdin’s tone turns hard. “No dances. No dallying. No deals.” He warns.
Rose pries the book he’s written about bugs from his hands, fracturing his attention.
“I’ll be standing guard at the door,” he starts, his eyes already drifting. “But should you need me—”
“I’ll be alright,” I smirk, biting back a laugh. “I need only be pointed in the right direction.”
“Oh. About that…” Rose turns on her heel, snapping the book closed. “You’ll have to ask the Inklings.”
I blink.
“I’m sorry…what?”
“They’re codex creatures,” Myrrdin answers, as though I’m supposed to know what that means.
I simply smile, waiting long enough for Rose to realize I don’t.
“They’re born of book dust,” she says. “There are two of them at any given time. One tells the truth. The other, only lies.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Creatures made of dust…that can speak.
“Fascinating,” I breathe.
I turn to leave, when another thought occurs. “How will I know which one is which?”
Rose offers an apologetic smile.
“I won’t,” I surmise.
She fiddles with the dark blue bow in her hair, looking woefully sorry. “They’re sort of identical.”
A laugh bubbles up from the depths of my belly, startling the few patrons seated nearby.
“Of course they are.” I sigh. Still, I’m eager to meet them. “I suspect they’re impossibly hard to find, right?”
Rose’s face brightens.
“Oh no! That’s the easy part.” She waves. “They find you.”
Time moves quickly through the stacks of books, though I couldn’t say for certain how much has passed. With no moon or sun shining overhead, it’s almost as if this little town has been forgotten about completely.
Much like the question I came here to ask.
I pick up books of poetry. I skim through books about love. And still, I don’t come close to scratching the surface of all the stories Rose’s library has to offer. Someone would have to live several lifetimes to get through them all.
I reach for a leather bound book about squids when a blur of white steals it from my grasp.
“Hey!” I turn, but there’s no one there.
Oh no.
My heart races.
It’s happening again.
I suck in a deep breath, steadying my pulse. Then something soft and fluffy tumbles from the bookshelf over my shoulder, coming to rest against my chest.
What in the—“Ah!”
I jump back from the bookshelf, where two white, limbless creatures stare at me with impossibly large pink eyes. Their ears drape downward, stretching several feet long.
Oh my god!
“Oh my god.” I press my hand to my chest, my heart still racing. “You’re the Inklings,” I breathe in awe.
“How astute.”
“A little daft.” They speak at once, their voices little more than a whisper, yet impossible to miss.
I straighten, fixing my rumpled skirts. “My sincerest apologies. I don’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t.” One blinks.
“Oh, but you did.” The other looks away.
Suddenly, I feel vastly unprepared.
“What will she say?” The top Inkling teeters on its end.
“Ask away?”
Right. My question. “Pounding—”
“Try again.”
“Try again.” They cut in.
I blank, uncertain of the rules here, or what I’m meant to say. Does the question have to be asked a certain way? Or do they mean I should choose another question entirely?
I look up, meeting their glittering pink gaze.
I wonder…
“Which one of you is an Inkling?” I ask, taking note of each one’s answer.
“We both are,” they say together.
Hmm. Alright.
“And one of you tells the truth?” I venture.
“And one of us lies,” they both reply.
That’s twice they’ve answered in unison, meaning for every question there is one definitive answer. I need only figure out how to get it.
The realization that a middle ground exists makes me think of Frog, though I can’t say why.
“Ask away.”
“Ask away.” They urge, as if reading my mind.
Guilt churns in my stomach at what I’m about to do. I grab hold of the mounted ladder to steady myself. Frog trusted me enough to lead him in a dance. Enough to lie beside me.
But has he trusted me with the truth?
“The Dark Knight,” I start, my need to know this man trumping all sense of reason. “Is he someone I can trust?”
The bottom Inkling’s small mouth curves into a smile.
“With your life,” it says.
The top Inkling smiles just as wide, its two white buckteeth glinting in the lantern’s glow.
“Not with your heart.”
My breath catches. “What does that mean?”
The Inklings don’t answer. They just stare, blinking.
I dig my nails into the palms of my hands.
Let’s try this again.
“Why does he feel so familiar?” I ask.
“Because you’ve loved him before.” The top Inkling answers.
“Because he is your knight.” The bottom Inkling says.
My eyes narrow on the bottom Inkling. It has to be the truth-teller. For Frog is my knight, and as such, my life is in his hands.
But just to be certain…
“Have we ever danced together?” I ask, even though I already know—
“Not once. Not ever.” The bottom Inkling sings, and something in me snaps.
My spine stiffens as I slowly meet the top Inkling’s gaze.
“Under a moonlit sky.” It blinks.
I reel back.
I loved him before? Yet he can’t be trusted with my heart? The very same one he’s vowed to safely deliver?
“That’s not possible.”
I shake my head, raking my fingers through my hair.
“It is,” says the top Inkling.
“And yet it isn’t,” negates the bottom one.
“No, you don’t understand,” I mutter. “I’ve never loved—”
The words die in my throat.
No. That’s not true. There was someone.
It hits me. Not the answer, but the question I need to ask. The one I’ve been circling since running into the Dark Knight’s chest…
I suck in a long, slow breath.
What if they say no? What if they say yes? I don’t know which answer frightens me more.
“Do I know his name, his real name?” I ask, unsure if I’ll be able to hear them over the pounding in my chest.
The Inklings’ ears perk forward as they stare down at me. They blink. Once. Twice.
“Yes.”
The world tilts beneath me.
My knees slam into the floor with a painful thud, knocking over a few books and the extra pack.
A few patrons stop, but I don’t hear the words they say. My attention is wholly consumed by the spool of red ribbon and swatches of red and lilac that are peeking out of the pack—a pack with all its buttons.
It was never Rhidland.
I drag myself up to my feet, swaying on my heels as every scattered piece clicks into place.
It was him?
I bolt.
My dress catches beneath my feet, but I wrench it free. I leap over seated patrons, my ribbon slipping loose around my neck.
I don’t care.
Not now that I’m this much closer to the truth.
“Princess,” Myrrdin starts toward me. “Is everything—”
“Whose bag did I carry?” I pant, every inch of my body alight with a feeling I can’t name.
Myrrdin frowns. “It’s Frog’s. Why?”
I don’t answer.
I tear past him.
The door bangs open as I race into the crowded road.
I don’t stop.
I can’t.
Not now that I know my ghost might be my knight.
Two souls in passing exit stage right
One toward the living,
One toward the light.