“Then we shall add it to our list of places to visit.” Elara sent a smile in Anesta’s direction, but I could tell it wasn’t fully sincere. Not like the way she used to smile at me. Her thoughts were running away with her again and I saw the worry hidden beneath her expression.
She doesn’t deserve this.
“What do you mean you don’t like cakes?” Gwen clearly wasn’t ready to let the subject go.
Lance thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. They’re too... sweet.”
She looked at him like he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Maybe you’re just too dark and depressing to enjoy anything good and worthwhile,” Gwen threw back. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, I might have raised myeyebrows. Gwen had always been feisty, and most people didn’t like Lance, but I wondered what her particular reason was.
Lance surprised us all by responding, “Maybe I am.” His face didn’t give anything away, but he lifted his cup as if making a toast before taking a sip.
“That’s not something to be proud of.” She continued to prod the bear, and I expected Lance to grow annoyed, but it was quite the opposite. The Prince of Everness appeared rather entertained by the conversation. That made one of them.
“Perhaps not. But I have a reputation to uphold.” For Lance to suggest that he was anything other than a heartless prick was almost laughable.
“Any desserts you have a preference for, Lady Gwen?” Anesta attempted to draw her attention again, but it was almost as if Gwen hadn’t heard her.
“Is that really all you care about? Your reputation?”
“Touchy subject for you, is it? Considering you are now known as the sister of the man who betrayed his kingdom.”
Elara tensed up next to me and Anesta’s eyes widened a little. A momentary silence fell over the room, as if nobody knew quite what to say.
“Enough.” I found the word escaping my mouth, but my tone remained calm. “Gwen is not her brother.” And just because Lance always seemed to get a thrill out of pushing people, and because my temper and patience were not at their best, I added, “And neither is Elara.”
“Of course not, Your Majesty,” Lance responded after a second. “No one would make the mistake of believing such a thing.”
I nearly flinched when Elara’s hand carefully took hold of mine under the table. Her hands were a little softer in comparison to when we first met, but the calluses were stillthere. There was a slight comfort in knowing that some things didn’t change.
I didn’t pull away, nor did I look at her. But I heard Elara release a breath as if she was relieved.
My mind drowned out the sound as Gwen and Anesta continued their earlier conversation. I wanted to turn my head and look at her, but I was afraid of the expression I would see.
I feared the pain and anxiety that probably hid in her eyes, and I couldn’t face her knowing I was the cause of most of it.
Her thumb brushed back and forth in a caressing manner, and we continued to sit like that throughout dinner.
After dinner, I decided to go to the library to have a drink and find something to read for the evening. I would welcome the distraction of a work of fiction. Perhaps the story would infiltrate my dreams, and I wouldn’t wake in the middle of the night from another nightmare. One of the servants had lit a fire, warming up the room. I poured myself a drink and started walking along the shelves, scanning through the titles, hoping to find something of interest.
The Levernian palace had a very large collection of books, some old and dusty, while others still had bright covers and unworn spines.
My mother had encouraged me to read from a young age. Not just because it was important that I was literate as I would be king one day but because she believed it would open up my mind to new words and ideas. She used to say that books sat on shelves waiting every day to be read, hoping to be picked up so that they could tell their story.
As a little boy, I used to think books contained some kind of magic. I couldn’t understand how ink on paper had the ability to create places and people that you could see in your mind. As I’d grown older, that magic slowly began to fade, until the only things I had time for reading were letters and ledgers.
I picked up one of the books, scanned the first few pages and put it back on the shelf. This I did repeatedly, making my way through the fiction section of the library. I couldn’t find anything to catch my interest, so I decided to move along to the next section.
I discovered the shelves where the much older books were kept, and the further I walked, the older the books got. Some of their covers were so worn that it was difficult to make out the titles. If I had to guess, I would have said that a few of the books were at least two hundred years old, if not older.
I put my glass down on a nearby reading table and picked up one of the books. As I paged through it, I quickly realised it was a romance novel, which was not something I was particularly in the mood for, so I put it back on the shelf.
The one next to it didn’t have a title, which I thought was a little odd, but it did have a crown on the spine.
When I looked for the name of the author, I could find none.
The first page began to tell the story of a wicked queen who craved power. She was cruel and fierce, and the people hated her. One day, she went to a sorcerer and asked him to make her three powerful objects that would protect her and help her rule without opposition. The sorcerer warned her that there would be a price for using such magic, but the queen did not care. She threatened him that if he did not make her the objects, she would kill his family.
