Yondus –four-limbed creatures with long tails, longer dicks, and orange black-spotted fur– run through grass and across thetrees.They swing on vines and jump up and down on branches,their faces all twisted in laughter.Eventhe ones that are shown to be in the middle of having sex, their fanged mouths are open in howls of delight.
Lifting a hand, I press it to the wood.One might look at these doors and simply see them for the humour they are.A joke perhaps.Or someone’s obsession with yondus.A lot of brownies, after all, have died trying to fuck them.Maybe whatever fairy or fairies who made these doors dreamedof that too.
But there is something deeper within this piece – a love and joy that seems so lost in the rest of Raza.Granted, I’ve not seen much of their kingdom, but the air here is thick and heavy.Even Jace, who laughs freely, has a darkness behind his eyes.It’s like everyone who lives here is afraid to truly love.
Like my king…Deciding it’ll be easier to kill me than to rule with me.
Dropping my hand from the door, I swallow, then reach for the round knocker handle and pull.
Despite the size of it, the door swings open easily, and I know a magic spell is helping me.I step inside, feeling so small and inadequate as I enter this love letter in building form.
The breath that’s caught in my throat doesn’t ease any as I make my way inside.My footsteps echo in the wide open space, and I’m not surprised to find the library empty.I feel like I’m invading a sanctuary.
The building wraps around me inan octagon.Weathered wooden shelves span the full-length ofeveryside,toweringsix or sevenstoreyshigh.Balconies run along the walls at every floor, but the middle of the library is left open all the way to the top.The ceiling is made up ofa series of thick intercrossing beams.Theyspreadacrossglass panelsthatdepictmultiplegalaxiesfull of stars.
My breath rushesout of me.
A massive globe, much taller than me,standsproudly in thecentre, surrounded by a handful of well-worn sofas and chairs.Pulled in by a magnetic force, I walk slowly, my eyes taking everything in.Running my hand along the globe, I’mnotsurprised when it moves –nothing in here would be left to rot.
I give it a little push.It spinsflawlessly, bits ofGaeraflashing by.The mushroom forests of Yogalha.The diamond caves of Jardo.The lost Temples of Hondu.Ular.Ev’lan’dic.Atheria.Vinsio.
I place my hand on it at random.It stopsafter gradually losing momentum.Aizela.That’swhere I want to go one day, decided as of now.Craning my neck, I look up at the northern pole.Stepping back, Itakeit all in.The worldisso big.How much of itwillI never see?
Walking around, IfindRaza, Richard’s kingdom.It’sjust a speck of colour.A miniscule existence.Brownston isn’teven listed.
My gaze turnsto the glass domein the ceiling.Each one of those galaxieshavemore worlds in them.Halzaja.Persic.Blódyrió.Konistra.Alazul.Earth.All the places Iwillnever see.
“Can I help you?’
My chest aching with a dull pain, I turn to the woman asking.She’sshorter than me, with herblackhair up in a stern bun.
“Yes.I’m looking for –” I clear my throat.Taking a deep breath, I smile innocently.My eyes latch on to the freckle at the corner of her mouth rather than the piercing darkness of her eyes.“A book on murders.Nice murders, if possible.For research.”
Blinking rapidly, I add, “Book research, I mean, not real life research, obviously.Ha.Why would I admit to needing it for real life research if that were true?That would be dumb, right?I mean, who would do that?That would be like publishing aHow I Murdered My Husbandbook after being accused of… murdering… my husband.”Sweat breakingout across my back, I laugh nervously.
She reachesfor my shoulder, and I flinch, knowing she’sgoing toyell for the guards to dragme back down to the dungeons.
“It’s okay,” shesayswith a smile.“I’m an author too.”
“An author…” I look at her blankly, then exhale strongly as I nod.“Yeah, that’s me.Yes, of course, it’s for my work in progress.”
“What’s your book about?”
“Uh…” Ishakemy head, thinking of Fabia’s latest book.“It’s about a man” –King Richard– “who ends up captured by the Jokeni” –who fuck him to death, probably, assuming; she hasn’t finished it, but honestly, what else could happen when he has to service the whole army?–“but then he gets saved by the queen, who asks him to marry her, but instead of falling in love with her, he decides to kill her, so I need to learn how to do that.For the book.Which is fiction.”I gulp, wondering if I edged too close to my situation.
She nods.“Sounds interesting.Are you a pantser or a plotter?”
My mouth worksuselessly as I struggle to recall what those terms means.“Um… a bit of both?”
Chuckling, shesays, “Oh, I know what that’s like.I try to plot my books all the time, but the characters end up doing whatever they want,so I end up pantsing it more times than not.”
Gesturing for me to follow her, sheleads me towards one of the walls, then up a love-touched stairwell.I look behind me and try not to sigh when I notice none of the guardsare following me.Half are standing at the doors, the other half at the globe.
“You know,”the librarian says as we climb,“I plotted out a whole book about this woman whowaskidnapped by a vampire.Her sister was supposed to save her at the end, with help from aspecialagent, who she fell in love withalong the way, obviously.”
We passthe first floor, then the second, and I’m so glad we’re talking about her book rather than ‘mine’.
“Well, sort of save her.They had to put her in a coma to stop a curse from killing herat the end of the first book.Then inthe second, a telepathwas supposedto go into her mindtohelp her.Shewas to fallin love with him, and the four of themwere supposed tolive happily ever after.”
