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“Days, Parys. As fast as you can manage.” I paused, sucking in a breath. “It’s about Arthur.”
I watched him begin to curl in on himself. That same retreat that I’d made, again and again, to the darkest places within me. But I couldn’t let him do it. For months, I’d helped him—we’d helped each other. We’d fucked each other into the oblivion of release to hide from our pain. But now I needed him to help me in a different way.
I grabbed his hands, hauling him close, so that we were knee to knee, squared off, our faces inches away from one another.
“What about Arthur?” Parys’ voice shook over every syllable.
“You know as well as I… a handful of humans could not have killed the greatest king to sit Annwyn’s throne,” I said.
I prayed to the Ancestors I wouldn’t have to say more. There may be hardly anyone in the library, but the walls in the goldstone palace had ears. There were shifters here now. Who was to say that one of the terrestrials was not creeping down the next row disguised as a mouse? I didn’t want to take the chance to explain, but I needed Parys’ help.
Inch by hesitant inch, Parys nodded his head. “I… I know.” Then a sob. “I know.”
I closed my eyes, forcing down the pain. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t allow it. I squeezed his hands tight, trying to will strength into him, into us both. If I let the pain in, it would swallow me whole. If I opened my eyes and saw my friend go to pieces, I wouldn’t win the fight raging within me.
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his, anchoring us both together.
That one sob ebbed into slower tears. Still, my cheeks remained dry. The dam of despair inside of me had cracked open, but it wasn’t flooding free. Not yet.
Finally, Parys rocked back, pulling his hands away. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, turning back and staring at the empty plate and goblet accusatorially.
I knew how he felt.
“I’ll have some more food and wine sent down to you,” I said, getting to my feet.
Parys nodded, shifting his eyes to the books stacked at his side.
I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I didn’t. I turned back to the aisle, that main artery to find my way back to my ever-present guards.
“Wait.”
Parys peered down at the pile of books for a full minute before selecting one and gently tugging it loose. His other hand caught the top of the pile, steadying it from teetering over.
“Take this,” he said, holding it out to me.
The deep amethyst cover was embossed with gold, a little stag stamped in the center of the cover, gold swirls emanating out towards the rectangular edge of the book.
“What is it?” I asked, turning it over in my hands. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
“It’s a book,” he said, grinning mockingly.
“I will throw it at your head.”
“Read it,” he suggested instead. “I think you will enjoy it.”
I stared at the little book. Better to stare at it than to stare at him, to let him see the thoughts and emotions swirling in my eyes. He could already probably guess too much.
“It won’t bite.”
I felt a smile play at my lips. If nothing else, Parys could help with that. “Alright,” I said softly. “Thank you.”
My eyes lingered on the book, but I was aware of Parys straightening, his head pointed in my direction. When I lifted my eyes, he was staring at me intently.
“No, Veyka,” he said firmly. “Thank you.”
46
VEYKA
