Creepy fucking bastard.
I closed my eyes, content to rest for the first time in ages now that the final piece would settle into place.
What was done was done; there was no altering it, no changing the choices I’d made. The only way now was forward and to pray to Fate that I’d made the right decisions.
Chapter 74
Faylinn
Irubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, desperately trying to make the words on the parchment stop swimming. No matter what obscure texts I pulled, no matter what rabbit holes I dove down, I could not find the answers I sought; there wasnothingthat could tell me about the Warlord’s plans, nothing that aided in my research about Ellowyn and godlings, nothing that showed me I was even on the right track.
It was maddening, and the lack of information was not for lack of trying.
Every day, from sunup to sundown and hours past, I barricaded myself in the library, pulling countless books and scrolls, desperately searching for answers. What started as avoidance of Rohak and his newly Bonded Vessel became an obsession—an unquenchable need for the answers that evaded me for months. The air was chilly the first day I entered the Academy library, and now it was wrought with the dampness so characteristic of summers in the north; yet, still, nothing.
I covered my mouth with my hands and let out a sound that was half-scream and half-groan.
I don’t know why I needed these answers so desperately, but something inside constantly pushed me, like I intrinsically knew that something was coming. The “what” I was unsure of, but I knew it would be catastrophic, and I needed the answers before then.
More than that, I used my research as a distraction—a way to ease the ache of missing Rohak and his steadfast presence. We hadjustreconciled, and I thought our relationship might even move into a place that was beyond confidants, beyond friends. But his effective dismissal of me ever since he Bonded his Vessel showed how little I truly meant to him. I’d tried to maintain a working relationship, if not a minor friendship with him, but every time I saw Rohak, he was with Gisei; and every time I sawher,all I could hear, all I could see, was him thrusting into her.
I shook my head to erase the images that I conjured. I came to the library to escape my thoughts and did not want to pollute one of my final places of safety with images that triggered intense feelings of rage and sadness.
The characteristic shuffling of Sirak’s feet preceded his arrival, and I fought to control my emotions, relieved for the distraction but also not desiring an interaction with the strange librarian today.
“Rune Master.” His voice was like chapped skin across dry parchment, and I nearly cringed.
“Sirak,” I returned tiredly, not even bothering to tell him not to bow today. I was exhausted in mind, body, and soul.
Perhaps it’s time to go back home. I chewed my lip in thought.But where even is home?I wasn’t sure that I could call Isrun home any longer.
For a while, I thought that wherever Rohak was was home—his office in the administration building, his office here, the couch in his sitting room—but maybe I’d simply fooled myself into believing that.
“Troubled, Rune Master? More questions than answers?” he asked, and I fought to smooth my brow.
“Isn’t that how it always is, Sirak?” I barked a dry laugh.
“Hmm,” he hummed, seeming to gather his next thoughts. “I had a most interesting conversation this evening with the king.”
My hackles rose both at Lord d’Refan’s new, self-proclaimed title and Sirak’s tone. There was something . . . sinister about it. Something I deeply did not like.
“Oh?” I hedged, adrenaline flooding my system as I prepared to flee, research be damned.
He nodded his head once before reaching into the folds of his voluminous black cloak. I tensed, muscles ready to fire, but he simply withdrew a large, thick, black leather journal.
So much black.
Sirak tossed it onto my table with a thunk.
We both looked at it even as I made no move to grab it.
“Perhaps some answers to your questions?” he rasped before shuffling away.
I tentatively reached out a hand and pulled the journal toward me by the corner of its cover.
“Oh, best to not read it before bed, though, hmm?” Sirak called before cackling as he was swallowed by the darkness of the back half of the library.
So godsdamned creepy.
