Page 33 of A Lie so Pretty and Poisonous

I sighed, and my shoulders sagged. “There are no other tales or stories about this man? Do you know his name?”

“His name was Psilas. Unless the noble family that employed him has any more recorded stories of him, I am sorry, but we have exhausted all the resources we have here.” He gave me a sad grin and patted my hand.

“Which noble family employed him?” Darragh asked.

Acrion glared at him, lowering his brow and squinting his eyes. “The Noble house of Toolock,” he practically growled.

My eyes volleyed between the two seraphs as they glowered at each other. I stood, smoothing the front of my dress. “Thank you, Acrion. I greatly appreciate all your help. The captain and I would like to browse your library now if you’re agreeable to that.”

Darragh stood and moved to the door.

The old scholar looked positively deflated. “Oh, but I was hoping to ask you a few questions before you left.”

My confidence in turning him down was heightened with Darragh standing behind my decision. I smiled placatingly, “I am sorry, but for now, I would just like to look for some books. Maybe I can come back another time and sit down with you and have a talk?”

Acrion stood and walked to my side, taking my hand in his. “Yes. Please come back. I need to capture your story and learn more about humans.”

“I will try.” I inclined my head and hastily moved to Darragh, holding open the door. His eyes tracked me as I walked out of the room, and he followed behind, slamming the door in Acrion’s face. Angry, muffled shouts came from behind the solid oak. A deserving case of karma. I choked back a laugh.

We moved, side-by-side, down a flight of stairs. Darragh cast his eyes downward. “I apologize for my behavior, my lady. That was not proper of me.”

“Rory,” I stated.

He drew his dark eyebrows together. “What?”

“Please call me Rory.”

Way to keep it formal.

We wound through narrow paths lined with shelves of particularly ancient-looking books bound in cracked leather with withered pages. Without thinking, I stopped abruptly and turned to face him. We almost collided, but he stopped short an inch from me, grabbing onto the closest bookshelf. He smelled of something familiar. Warm and spicy with a touch of sweetness. Cloves.

I raised my hands between us. “Oh, I am sorry!” I said as I tipped my head back to look at him. “I just wanted to say that I am happy you didn’t allow that man to get away with disrespecting you. I would hardly call what you did improper. Standing up for yourself is always the best option, in my opinion.”

He blinked. Darragh’s usual tensed jaw slackened. The harshness he held in his features softened.

“And thank you for noticing I was uncomfortable with answering his questions.”

He gave a brief nod. “You’re welcome, my lady.”

We stared at each other for a moment before I took a step back and turned to look at the titles next to me on the shelves. “I probably should search for a book on seraph culture and history, as boring as that sounds.”

“I know the section you can find that in.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Could you recommend any of the books that you like to read?”

His eyes searched me, and a corner of his mouth upturned. “I can help you pick something out.”

Three thick books were stacked in my arms, drawing them close to my chest. I could keep pulling more from the shelves, but my saddlebag would only hold so many. My collection of titles included: A Socialite’s Guide to Seraph Etiquette, A Historical Narration of Tironaill, and Deities and Demigods (Darragh’s pick). I watched him pull a book down from the top of a dusty shelf, the particles of which floated through the sunbeams angling in from the window. He stalked back toward me, his chestnut eyes gleaming as he stopped in the light. They had to be the loveliest shade of brown I had ever seen, and they happened to be on the face of a regarded dangerous seraph, though I had yet to see any unwarranted hostility or aggression. Maybe this was a part of his unpredictability. An agreeable seraph one moment and a violent brute the next. Still, I would rather remain pleasant with him as he seemed to have softened around his jagged edges, even though he remained guarded. So did I.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked as he took my books into his arms.

“I am.” The news that Psilas was unable to get back across the barrier and that the scholars weren’t sure how he got here in the first place formed another knot in my chest. What if we never find a way home? My stomach turned sour at the thought. If the scholars couldn’t help me further, then I would have to find a way myself.

“You are deep in thought,” Darragh said.

I twisted my fingers and peered up at him. “I was wondering if we could go to the farm that Psilas worked at? I know he is long since dead, and it will probably lead to nothing, but I have to check. Even a small piece of information about him could be useful.”

“If you didn’t suggest it, I was going to. It’s the next logical step,” he shrugged.