I can’t contain the emotions inside me and shoot up despite the sudden movement making my head spin and my ankle hurt. “I don’t belong to anyone! I’m my own man again!”
“This thread says otherwise,” Lord Kyran states, then drops the line of shadow to the floor, where it no longer looks three-dimensional.
I’m wheezing again, and in my efforts to step away, I almost stumble over the seat I’ve been using since we entered this room.
Tristan pulls me in for a hug which I resent, yet it calms me as he strokes my back. “He will need the most urgent medical attention, and since the last thing he needs is becoming court gossip, I shall take him to the Book Mausoleum.”
“You intend to keep your promised a secret?” Lord Kyran asks.
“For as long as it’s his wish, and he’s in no state to make decisions.”
I want to protest, but Tristan’s right. I press my face to his chest, desperate for rest and more pain medication.
“So be it. I will alert our best medics and make sure they understand the need for discretion. I appreciate you coming to me with this, cousin. And if you need anything else, human, you can pass me a note through any of the servants.”
I melt into Tristan, so very torn between the desire to stay in his arms and the peace of an empty bed, where I can cover myself completely with comforters and blankets. Can I hope for even one sleep without nightmares? I’d love to dream of the timebefore Gloombane, when I was just a guy frustrated with a shitty boyfriend and that my puppy pissed on the carpet. That was such a different time.
I don’t even notice when Lord Kyran leaves us, but once we’re alone, Tristan picks me up, still wrapped in the cloak. I’m so very tired, and the sense of humiliation I felt exposing my battered form hasn’t yet gone away. I want to be invisible. To cling to Tristan without him perceiving me.
“That’s done now,” he whispers as he carries me out. “You will be back to good health in no time.”
It’s hard to believe that. Right now, it feels as if the pain has been carved into my bones and will never go away. Tristan once more walks the labyrinth of corridors dotted by the rare guard who lets him pass without issue. I’m almost dozing off again when the scent of books hits me with such strength I open my eyes.
We pass endless rows of tall bookshelves in what has to be a library. The vaulted glass ceiling is a window into darkness. It’s as empty as the rest of the castle, with only a few lanterns on a table here and there. I struggle to see in the dim light, but the smell of paper and ink is soothing. It reminds me of sinking into an old leather armchair in the most secluded part of the university library. When I had loud roommates, I’d go there to read unbothered. Back then, it was exciting to daydream about being transported to a fantastical realm of castles and dragons.
The reality of it is much bleaker.
I’m startled out of my thoughts when we walk through a door beyond the bookshelves, down a corridor, and eventually Tristan knocks on wood with his elbow. He has to do it again, and we wait a while, but eventually, the wall shifts to the side and an elven woman with hair as red as Tristan’s peeks out, wrapped in a nightgown.
“I finally got Nathan to sleep. What—”
“I’m sorry, I need the keys to the Book Mausoleum.”
She stalls for a while, golden eyes settling on me with the weight of a whole crate of booze. “Is this… Nate?”
I freeze, terrified of any questions that might fly my way, but Tristan covers me with his cloak more tightly and shows her the palm of his hand. “He’s… very tired right now. The keys? Please?”
I can’t bring myself to exchange any more greetings tonight, so I’m grateful when she steps out, soundlessly closing the door behind her, and walks ahead with a swish of black silk and lace.
The way leads back to the library, and I find myself shrinking under the high ceiling, as if the glass dome above might break and let in sour rain at any moment. The old me would have hyperventilated out of joy at the sheer chance of seeing a place like this, but right now it looks too vast, and each nook hides shadows I wouldn’t dare touch..
The woman hasn’t been introduced to me, but she holds such a close resemblance to Tristan and takes care of someone called Nathan. Who else could she be if not Tristan’s sister, Sabine, of whom he’s told me about at length, back when the world around me still felt fascinating rather than scary?
“I would have had it dusted if I knew you were coming,” she says, leading the way behind a large counter holding several piles of thick volumes bound in leather. She then takes us between two tall blocks of shelves, all the way to a compact door decorated with thin pieces of brass arranged into complex floral patterns.
Since Tristan took me away from the tower, I’ve done nothing but traveled. Even the night at the inn was just a stop. My nervous system is shattered after what I’ve been through at Gloombane’s hands, and it’s hard to believe that he’s gone.
“Leave the door open for now,” Tristan says to his sister. “The royal medics will be coming any minute.”
Her expression turns from curious to worried. “Tristan. Your arm. What happened?”
“Tomorrow, Sabine.”
She nods, and we pass through the door onto yet another staircase. This one is winding, narrow, and leads up, with round glass walls in the middle. One glance over my shoulder and into the void beneath makes me tuck my face back against Tristan. I hate that I’m about to land in another tower, but at least not at the bottom of it this time.
All I want is a bit of respite and privacy. Comfort. Warmth. But as Tristan maneuvers us into the dark space illuminated by a faint glow seeping in through large stained glass windows, I can’t see that well without my glasses. The one closest to us depicts a dragon spitting fire at a group of knights. And what is that faint snow-like effect caught by the light?
Ah. Dust. So, so much dust.
