A part of herwantedit.
Arawn led her to the gold staircase, up to the next level of books. She avoided looking left, where the wall of frost-covered windows revealed just how far a person could fall, should the glass give way. ‘Andyouare a fool if you utter another negative word about my brother inside this space.’
The next level was the same in shape and size as the ground floor, but the books on the shelves looked far more worn and well loved. They were all leather, with ornate curling script stamped on their spines.
If there was anywhere she could learn about herself, whatever strange ability she carried within, how far back in her family line a Sacred was – who they were and why they left the Citadel – it would be here that she’d find it.
Arawn led her to yet the next level up. She didn’t dare look down as she followed him up the steps. Didn’t dare risk letting go of the gold railing, either.
And finally, they came upon Kinlear.
Each time she’d been around him, he had walked with a swagger, a confidence that she supposed only a prince could have, and somehow his cane only added to it. Like he couldn’t be bothered by anything.
But today, he didn’t look princely or overly proud of himself. He just looked like a scholar, at peace amongst piles of books.
Not at all like the man who killed her over and over again in her dreams.
Certainly not like a famed Eagleminder, nor a prince.
He had his white cloak on, laced with the gold silk hood, reflecting the firelight as he sat at a massive old oak desk before the rounded hearth. His cane was left on the table before him, abandoned. His dark curls were mussed, and he leaned his chiseled jaw on a fist, while his fingertips skimmed down the pages of an open book. His lips moved as if he were busy searching, speakingto himself as he went page by page. That unusual vial still hung on a gold chain around his throat.
In a story of mysteries and murder, Kinlear Laroux would be the main character.
She just wasn’t certain, yet, if he was the villain or the hero.
‘This is as far as I go,’ Arawn said.
‘And why is that?’ Ezer asked.
His eyes darkened as he looked at his twin. ‘Because my brother is about to perform one of his dramatic speeches, and I’m not certain I have the willpower to survive it today.’
And before she could ask him anything else, he turned and left, his white cloak snapping after him for how fast he seemed to want to leave.
Whatever was between the twins, it certainly wasn’t good.
She supposed that was how it worked with siblings, especially when one was destined to wear a crown. And the other …
She didn’t know what Kinlear’s future held. He’d be involved in the running of things and would live a life of luxury until he was ever called upon, should something happen to Arawn.
He’s a backup king,she’d once heard spoken of him.
And she couldn’t imagine the stigma that came with it. To be a runner-up for all your days.
She approached his table slowly, unsure whether he wanted to be disturbed. He didn’t look up, but he must have heard her approach. ‘Sit,’ he said, and turned another page.
She went to the chair across from him and sank into the worn leather without a sound.
Better to face him, to keep her eyes on his hands, should he reach for the bone blade he carried on his waist. But she doubted he’d kill her here, in the middle of the library.
One would have to be a monster to risk getting blood on books.
He finally looked up from his page. ‘It’s interesting, the literature from our past. This book is centuries old. Do you know what it’s about?’
So, he would play it this way, then. Like a calm, casual conversation.
Like he hadn’t just had his brother deliver her here, with no explanation for why she’d been in a runic sleep for three days.
‘No,’ she said.
