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Liz. Hearing someone call her by her nickname is strange but sweet. I open my mouth to answer, but Nor cuts me off.
“The library?” His gaze bounces between Oryx and me.
“You know, the room full of books?” I say with faux sincerity. “I can’t imagine you’ve spent much time there, but surely you’ve seen it before.”
Oryx howls with laughter, drawing the attention of the minotaurs at the other end of the table. Nor glares at me, clearly unamused. It serves him right for being such an asshole yesterday.
“She’s funny. I like her,” Oryx laughs, pointing his fork in my direction.
Nor huffs. “That makes one of us.”
“Yes. We’re going to the library after breakfast,” I say, ignoring his comment.
“For what?”
“Books, of course.”
Nor’s eyes narrow to slits as his gaze bores a hole through me. “You’re testing my patience. If you’d rather, I can ignore you again.”
“No. I’m kidding,” I reach for his forearm and squeeze it playfully. “We’re just going to look around. You should come with us.”
He shakes his head firmly. “I have to respectfully decline. I’m busy this morning with important business.”
“Can’t it wait?” I ask, trying my best and failing to not sound disappointed. Not that I won’t have fun with Oryx and Liz, but something tells me Nor is more than familiar with the library. He could probably find anything we’re looking for.
“It can.” He nods, reaching for his fat, silver goblet of juice. “But I’d much rather work than babysit you three today.”
“Your loss,” I say, shrugging. If he doesn’t want to go, I’m not dragging him with us, and I’m certainly not begging.
After breakfast, Oryx leads us down a series of hallways, and I try my best to keep up with the directions. It’s a short trip, but all the corridors blend together, and I quickly forget how many turns it took to get to door leading to the library. It’s made of darkly stained wood and trimmed in gold.
“It’s not a huge collection, but it’s what we’ve got,” Oryx says, reaching for one of the spiral-shaped handles. My excitement mounts as he tugs the door open and the library comes into view.
The room is roughly the size of my bedchamber, and every wall is covered, floor to ceiling, with shelves. Light rains down from a wrought iron light fixture overhead, and four black lounge chairs are spread across the floor. As my eyes sweep the room, taking it all in, I realize we’re not alone.
A menacing pair of eyes watches us from one of the chairs.
“Zenobios,” Oryx says, tipping his head in the monster’s direction.
I freeze near the doorway, an icy wave of chills climbing up my back the longer I look at him. Dressed in all black again, he nearly blends in with the chair behind him. His chin is propped on his hand, a book splayed open on his lap, and his eyes snap up at Oryx’s voice.
“Oryx,” he says, his venomous voice sounding alarm bells in my head.
I thought my reaction to him the night we met may have been caused by a combination of tiredness and anxiety, but I can’t deny my intuition this time. Something about Zen’s presence is ominous. Dangerous. I’m suddenly more interested in fleeing than perusing the shelves.
I’m even halfway tempted to suggest it to Oryx when Zen slams his book shut and rises to his feet, making my stomach drop. He moves fluidly to one of the nearby shelves and puts the book back in its place. My eyes linger on its tattered brown spine as he makes his way toward the door without acknowledging Lizette or me, and I move away to give him ample space.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I’m able to breathe easier, and I look worriedly at Lizette. Her knitted brows and pursed lips convey her confusion.
“Who was that?” she hisses.
“Zen, one of their brothers.”
Her eyes flick back to the door to ensure it doesn’t reopen. “He’s creepy as hell.”
“Yeah, he is,” Oryx cuts in, his tone flatter than normal. It seems Zen affects him too. “He mainly keeps to himself, though, so you won’t see much of him.”
Nor essentially said the same thing the night of our wedding, but I’ve already seen Zenobios too many times in the few days I’ve been here. That fact alone makes my hair stand on end, and I don’t like it.
