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Alas, no. She was alone—and remembered him telling her he was going back down to the mansion.
Refreshed in a way that belied her earlier exhaustion, she got up and walked about the room. In the far corner, there was the sound of falling water, and she was transfixed by the sight of a cascade pouring into a basin the size of three proper tubs.
Stepping under the rush, she washed herself, and then used a white robe that smelled like her mate to dry and cover herself. As the garment was clearly meant for Lassiter’s size, she had to roll up the sleeves, and there was a train behind her as she promenaded, but she rather felt as though he were with her and that was a lovely comfort.
Mindful that he’d said things were safe only within this complex, she went to the door and opened it outward. The fountain drew her once again, and she went down the colonnade and over to it in her bare feet, sitting down on its lip and trailing her hand through the crystalline water. After spending time there, she proceeded over to visit the tree.
It occurred to her why she did not sleep. She was so happy to be in her new reality that she wanted to be consciously aware to enjoy it, the quiet, satisfying knowledge of what had transpired, and been blessed by the great Blind King and so many others, a meal of great sustenance to her soul.
After a further passage of time, she approached the connected entry unto the library. Stepping inside, she glanced around with wonder, and the freedom to go where she chose within its confines struck her as a liberty well worth savoring. It had been so long since she had explored a place. Back in the Old Country, she had always stayed hidden when she went out, and after coming to Caldwell, she had only ventured out that one night.
Whereupon Nate had been killed.
Well, and then she had gone out a second time… and that civilian had been killed.
So no, she had not explored Caldwell.
Continuing forth, she was in awe as she contemplated all the volumes upon all the shelves. So many lives. So many fates. It made her think of how fortunate she was to have found Lassiter—needle in a haystack, indeed. At the far corner, she made the turn and came back down the opposite side. She repeated this march over and over, marveling at the effort required of the sacred scribes and the uniformity of the collection, how all of the volumes were so perfectly fitted unto their positions—
Abruptly, she stopped and frowned. There had to be, what, a hundred thousand tomes? And here was one, the only one, it seemed, that was not set properly in its place.
Feeling as though she were doing a duty to help, she put her forefinger on the spine and went to push it in. Except then she saw the name.
It was her own.
As a sense of unreality came over her, she reread the Old Language symbols, just to make sure. And then she smiled as she recalled that the precise pattern was borne now with pride by her hellren.
Pulling the volume out, she remembered standing right in this place, with Lassiter. He had drawn this book and put it back as a random example. Funny how, at the time, neither of them had recognized the identity of the individual.
“You must have wanted us to read my story,” she murmured as she opened the cover. “In some secret place of your heart.”
The script was beautiful, the symbols precisely drawn, like art, the flow of meaning at first lost to her—but then the events of her life were presented, in a narration that was both objective and kind. The early years, when she had been such a happy pretrans, were difficult to relive, and she tried not to become emotional. She often avoided thinking of her parents as the loss of them was something she had not recovered from, yet now as she skimmed specific events, there was warmth, too. That had been such a lovely time in her life, when her “gifts” had not been so difficult to conceal—and she had not yet attracted attention she had not wanted. She recalled, too, how Sahvage had been off with the Brotherhood, a warrior spoken of with pride and awe in and among the family’s bloodline.
And then… the terrible period thereafter. When she had been alone, even though Sahvage had come home unto her.
She read it all, even up to when she had met Lassiter at the garage of Luchas House. She had known then, as their eyes met, that he would change her immortal life forever…
Surely that had been after the Scribe Virgin had departed? During one of their quiet talks after mating, Lassiter had told her what that moment had been like, when the mahmen of the race had asked of him to take over from her.
