“Normally, I’d ask for his head to be brought to me on a serving platter, but in this case, he may be right. I am a massive whale dong.”
“Don’t joke with someone who comes from a kingdom where her king would have no problem asking for heads,” I say before urging Ashavee to jump onto Nortus with me.
“Proof that he’s a dong too. But I’m not inclined to call him a whale dong. I feel bad for the whale,” Ulric says, clearly over our teasing.
Ashavee climbs into the saddle behind me and says from over my shoulder, “I’ve always liked to think of him as balls—fragile and easy to crush.”
Ulric smiles at that, and the pure adoration he has for my friend returns. He can try to fight it all he wants, but he has a crush on Ashavee. And by the way she has stuck to his side since coming to Pliris, I’d say she feels a little of the same.
Kyron moves Samson to the head of our group and looks back at us. His eyes sparkle as his ebony hair flutters in the breeze. “Well then, let’s go figure out how to crush some balls.”
The Sibyl’s atheneum is just as breathtaking as it was the first time I walked through its double doors. Four stories of tall bookshelves reach for the vaulted ceiling and marble tabletops match the gleaming floors. Everything from lush chairs to the trolleys stacked high with books is an immaculate white. The only spots of color are found in the book covers and stained glass dome above us. Sunbeams shine through the images depicting the five kingdoms and the gifts bestowed upon them by the Statera. The multi-colored fragments of light reflecting throughout the atheneum give everything a celestial sparkle.
“It feels wrong to come in here after riding a horse for half of the day,” Greer says, rubbing her hands together like she is trying to brush away the dirt.
Terro leans into Ulric, inhales, and scrunches his nose. “Agreed.”
Ashavee runs her fingertips over the spines of the books closest to us. It’s impossible to miss the total awe on her face. The books are a rainbow of colors, crawling up the walls and curving down aisles. The knowledge inside their pages surely calls to her studious soul. “I’ve never seen anything this spectacular,” she says.
“Oh, I have,” Ulric replies.
Ashavee shoots a glare over her shoulder. “What could you have possibly seen that is as beautiful as this?”
“Play nice,m’ eudail, and maybe one day I’ll tell you.”
She scoffs and turns back to exploring the books. “And don’t call me that unless you tell me what it means.”
He ignores her, soaking in the sight of her lean body as she continues down an aisle.
Kyron and I exchange a knowing glance as he slides his hands into his pockets. He steps into the center of the room and cranes his neck, taking in the stain glass and upper levels. He slowly spins, reminding me of the way his shadows curl when they swirl from his hand. “I can’t believe that all these books contain the history of the kingdoms. It doesn’t seem like we have done enough to fill all these tomes.”
I smile at his childlike wonder and say, “It’s not all history. The books contain a variety of subjects. Philosophy, science, and mathematical theory, the Sibyls even collect fiction. It’s safe to say they have an obsession with bound things.”
“Obsession might be an understatement. We breathe, eat, and sleep the written word. It is almost as important to us as the Statera.”
I spin around to face the owner of the frail voice.
The Sibyl stares at me with gray eyes framed with wrinkles. The blue robes swallow their hunched frame, making them look more like a plush child’s toy than a person. I will never forget that withered face for as long as I live. They spent hours helping me search for answers the last time I was here.
The Sibyl watches Kyron past my shoulder and says, “I told you that the parah bond is the greatest gift given to your people. Even here in our kingdom, I heard how your king was relentless in his search for you. And to think, you wanted to break the connection he shares with you.”
I look back at Kyron, and we lock eyes. He smiles, sending warmth through my veins. It’s the complete opposite of the cold anguish I felt when I last visited this place. I was functioning with a broken heart. Every beat was a sharp pain in my chest. The desperation to make it stop had me searching for a way to sever our bond.
I turn back to the Sibyl and say, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was wrong.”
“She wasn’t the only one. I had good intentions and a poor execution,” Kyron says, moving behind me and kissing my cheek.
Greer bumps Kyron with her shoulder. “Despite the rumors, our king isn’t perfect.”
“Far from it,” he agrees.
The old Sibyl glares at us, with not so much as a hint of amusement on their face. The Sibyls are a serious bunch. They have a purpose that they are very dedicated to. Goofing around with friends and giving into a light moment isn’t something they partake in.
The Sibyl clenches their hands in front of them and says, “What is it that I can help you with?”
“I’d like to learn the truth about the Cruel King’s Stone,” I say.
“And what truth is that?”
