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But the scent that follows… I know this scent.
It’s distinctive, old books and pages, long-burned candle wicks and pencil shavings. I’m certain I’ve been here before, even though I’m also sure I haven’t.
I step through the doorway and stand in the center of the study. Arthur’s long desk sits at the end of the room with a wall of books behind it. My feet guide me to the wall of tomes and I grab one from the shelf. Before I can crack it open, I turn, sensing I’m not alone.
On a single chair in the center of the room sits Arthur, leaned back casually with one leg over the other. His gray eyes are on mine, calm and observant.
The right side of his face is lit only by the moonlight, but I can see all those beautiful features all the same, his high cheekbones and angular jaw. He has a hand pressed up against his cheek in a bored fashion. His shoulder-length black hair blends into the darkness behind him effortlessly. My stomach sinks at the sight of his angelic features.
“Terra, might I help you find something?” he says with an almost eerie tone.
I lower the book to my side and stare at him. A shudder crawls up my spine. This feels like a trap; why was he waiting here like this? He watches me struggle to find any words and a slight smile spreads across his lips. My Shadow draws near to him, yearning to be close, but I want the opposite right now.
Arthur stands slowly. I almost forgot how tall he was. His slender figure is unfitting of the tactical gear he wears; he’s fit for a crown and royal suits, not war clothing.
Of all the professors to catch me in their study, at least it’s Arthur. If there’s one I can trust, it’s him. He lifts his hand and offers it to me, a silent request that I go to him. That calm, warm smile still lifts his lips.
I swallow hard but slowly walk toward him. Once I’m standing before him, he tilts his head a bit and chuckles softly.
“You act like a mouse caught stealing cheese,” he says light-heartedly.
I look up at him with surprise and then back down to the book in my hands. “I’m hoping you can help me… and I’m sorry for breaking into your study,” I apologize as I hand him the book. He looks down at it nostalgically and turns it in his hand to examine the back.
“You could’ve just asked. I’m not so scary, am I?” His smile grows and I find the same one spreading across my lips as well.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the note, opening it and handing it to him. “I really need to find the person who wrote this.”
He takes the paper and reads it a few times, his eyes narrowing at the subject of the blight. “Terra, I know you want to help him?—”
“I have to,” I correct him and his eyes only soften more with pity, but he nods and takes a long breath.
“Well, I think I may know who wrote this. It wasn’t me.” He hands me back the note and sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window.
Arthur’s eyes hold so much sorrow. Everything about him is imbued with it. Perhaps it’s why I find his presence so comforting. I fight the urge in my chest to get closer to him—when we touch, everything else becomes blurry and it’s only him I see.
“You know.” His voice brings me back out of my thoughts. “Sometimes we try relentlessly to fight against the current, the waters cold and deadly, but often, it is for naught. We drown regardless.” His eyes remain on the moonlit window.
I frown and step closer to him, reaching for his hand. His eyes flash to mine. For a moment I think he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t.
“Raine will fight until he’s gasping for breath, as will I,” I mutter as I grab his hand and hold it, waiting for my Shadow to greet his as it always does. “Something tells me you’re still fighting too. You’ve been struggling against this for a long time. Haven’t you?”
His brows pinch together in a pained expression that says more than he ever could. Our Shadows mingle gently at our fingertips and I feel every sliver of that sadness. I stare into his eyes, trying to figure out what this feeling is. It’s so starkly different compared to all the others. My Shadow has always been ravenous and hungry for Elias and Raine. But Arthur is different.
Our Shadows greet one another like lost lovers meeting after centuries spent apart. Their dance is soft and forlorn, so much so that I feel like weeping. Arthur raises his other hand and brushes it softly across my neck, sending a shudder through me.
“Yes, I have,” he murmurs with a sad smile and pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me. I instinctively do the same. His scent of burned candles and old pages is welcoming and tears fill my eyes for reasons I refuse to acknowledge.
“I don’t understand our connection through the Shadows. Everything with you is familiar and lost all at once. Will you ever tell me who I am to you?” I ask in a hushed voice.
He remains quiet for a moment, breathing in my scent before pulling away and smiling at me. “Time and memory are old friends.”
I quirk a brow, letting my body fall into his again. I close my eyes and try to focus on the warmth that exists between us. “It feels much more than that.”
Arthur lets his dreary head fall to my shoulder as his hands wrap around me tightly. He holds me like he’ll never let go.
“Perhaps it was.”
40
