Chapter 24
MYRA
Myra peered over the top of her book. At the end of the row of bookshelves, Laurince stood with his arms crossed and his foot tapping as he talked to Rian. The survivors’ arrival from the eastern border had made him, and everyone else, restless.
The war was here, and they were woefully unprepared.
Every day, messenger birds arrived, delivering news of more attacks, more death. Every day, they trained. Every day, they returned to the library, and every day their patience grew thinner and thinner.
Myra no longer even knew what she was looking for.
The words were a puddle in her mind. She had read countless stories about the gods, and one text supported Rian’s theory that the gods had come from the stars, but the how was beyond vague.
Laurince had read another text—if a children’s book could have been called such—that featured the child of a mortal and immortal.
The child’s immortal mother took various shapes, appearing as a bird, a rabbit, and even a bear in the story.
Laurince had quickly tossed the book back onto the shelf, rolling his eyes.
Days had gone by, and they had yet to find anything useful.
As Myra read the ancient book before her, faint whispers tickled her ears.
She fought to ignore the king and captain bickering several feet away, their voices a blurry drone against the musty scent of aged paper.
She squinted at the faded ink on the yellowed pages.
Myra sighed. Deciphering the faded script was hopeless, like chasing shadows in the dark.
"Come on. Just tell her," Laurince whispered.
"We’ve been through this," Rian argued.
Myra peeled her attention away from the book as the two men joined her. She looked down at their empty hands.
"Tell me what?" she asked, her brows curling in confusion. They had said they were going to grab more books to sift through, yet they stood empty-handed.
"Nothing," Rian said, waving it off.
Laurince nudged him in the side with his elbow.
"What?" Rian asked, exasperated.
The crease in the middle of Myra’s forehead deepened. She slipped a bookmark inside the book and closed it.
"She deserves to know," Laurince urged.
"Laurince," Rian warned.
Myra swallowed, sensing the truth.
The captain pressed his palms on one of the open books, and the paper crunched beneath his hands. "We’re going back to Frenzia."
Rian smacked Laurince on the shoulder. "Why don’t you say it louder so everyone can hear you, hmm?"
Laurince rolled his eyes as he plopped down in the seat across from Myra.
"Oh," Myra mumbled, folding her hands beneath the table. Her nails dug into her palms, the pain sharp. She knew this was coming, yet she was surprised at how much her heart ached. She shouldn’t have been sad. Rian was the king of Frenzia—even if his brother was currently sitting on his throne. His people needed him; Frenzia needed him. Yet, she couldn’t deny she had grown accustomed to their company.
Their constant bickering had become a strange comfort, one she would miss.
Guilt, sorrow, and a sense of determination wafted off the king and rushed over Myra.
"I cannot abandon Frenzia and leave them to deal with Sebastian," he whispered, leaning his hip against the table. "It’s not right. Despite what some might think, I’m still king. My word still means something. It has to."
"When?" she asked, even though she was afraid of the answer.
"Tomorrow," Laurince answered.
Oh was all she could say.
The captain massaged his jaw, but the tension didn’t leave his sharp features. "We thought it was best if we left sooner than later. The attacks are becoming more frequent." He swallowed, his throat dipping. "We don’t want…we haven’t told the others."
"I see." She tried to convince herself the slight burning sensation she was feeling was because of the dry air in the library and no other reason.
"We would have told you sooner, but we—" Laurince pursed his lips and scratched the back of his neck. The collar of his shirt shifted, and the jagged scar peeked beneath the fabric.
"Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me." Myra forced a tight smile onto her face. Looking at the book in her hand, she drew a line down the leather cover. "You should prepare. If…if I find something before you leave, I’ll let you know."
She stood, her chair nearly collapsing. She mumbled an apology as Rian saved it from crashing to the ground. Her feet carried her toward the shelves.
The smell of old parchment and dried ink had always been a comfort, yet today it strangled her.
Her gaze was unfocused and blurry as she scanned the bookshelves.
She chewed on her bottom lip, willing the tears away.
She wouldn’t cry. There was no reason to cry, yet Myra couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of purposelessness.
If she had been strong enough to fight off Domitius' demands, if she had been able to say no, if she had held onto her morals—none of this would have come to fruition.
Was everything Myra touched cursed?
Was everything she did doomed to turn for the worse?
She tightened her grip on the book, pressing it against her chest. Her lungs constricted, her breathing growing shallow.
Perhaps it was better that everyone was leaving her. She didn’t want to doom them even more.
She stumbled, her toe catching on air. Panicking, she reached out and grabbed the first thing she could. Books went tumbling. Her hand slammed against the shelf.
"Shoot." She knelt on the ground and began stacking the books.
Footsteps pounded behind her, but she didn’t turn.
"Myra, are you—"
"I’m fine," she blurted, cutting Laurince off. "I tripped. Clumsy feet, you know?" Her voice was thick, and she prayed he didn’t notice.
When she stood, books piled high in her arms, a hand touched her elbow, helping her up. She muttered thanks and moved away, letting Laurince’s hand fall.
One by one, she shelved the books. And although her attention was fixed on the spines, she couldn’t read a single title.
"Are you sure you’re not hurt?" Laurince asked gently.
Myra nodded.
The captain refused to take the hint, though. He tugged on her elbow, his coarse hand impossibly soft, and beckoned her to face him.
His deep brown eyes stared at her, his thick brows drawn together. "Come with us."
Myra blinked. "I’m sorry?"
Laurince loosened his grip but didn’t let go of her, not entirely. "Come with us to Frenzia. What will you do here? How many more books can you read? We have found nothing useful."
"Yet," Myra argued. "There has to be something." She refused to give up.
He cocked a brow at the book in her hand. "Frenzia has books, too. I’m sure Rian would let you read his personal collection—the man has more books about dragons than I think anyone does. If there’s an answer in them, I’m sure you would have better luck finding it in his family’s library."
Myra shook her head, taking a step back. "No, I’ll just get in the way."
"No, you won’t," Rian said, appearing behind the captain. He leaned against a bookshelf. "You’ll probably keep us on track. Laurince is known for slipping into one too many taverns and making a fool of himself."
Laurince’s hand fell from Myra’s arm as he scoffed. "I do not!"
"Remember three years ago when we stopped at the pub in Ragolo? You started dancing on the tables."
Laurince shoved Rian. "That’s not fair, and you know it. You dared me to do it."
Rian smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I would have paid for our drinks even if you hadn’t, but you can’t deny you enjoyed doing it."
"Whatever," Laurince mumbled, rolling his eyes. He placed an arm on Rian’s shoulder, and an ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. "So what’s it going to be, Haze?"
"Haze?" Myra questioned.
Grinning, Laurince turned to Rian. "Code names are necessary in a coup, wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?"
Rian snorted. "I suppose. But is it really a coup if it’s my throne I’m taking back?"
"Semantics," Laurince said, dismissing him. "Either way, the name fits."
"How?" Myra asked, confused about everything that was going on—from the conversation to the captain’s sudden awkwardness to the code name.
Laurince scratched the back of his head. "Your eyes are hazel, aren’t they?" The question sat between them, and there was a strangeness to it she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Before she even had the chance to respond, though, he asked, "So, what’s it going to be? Are you coming?"
Myra glanced between them. Was there even a debate? Her life wasn’t here. Her life had been in Ardentol, but as of right now and possibly forever, that version of her life was no more. Maybe this was the path she needed to follow.
"Fine," Myra said, a timid smile forming. "I’ll come."
"That-a girl," Laurince said with a wink.
Myra’s eyes widened. She swiftly faced the shelf again, returning the last few books to their spots.
Her control slipped, and she felt her power reaching toward him.
A honeyed warmth flooded her system, and something fluttered in her chest. She quickly reined in her gift the moment she realized what she was doing.
"Come on," Rian said.
Walking backward, Laurince called out, "Dawn, Haze."
And for some reason, Myra felt herself blushing again.