He raised a brow. “The stars?”
I took another sip for courage. How would I describe this if heweren’tan imaginary character from a book? Or rather, if this world was as real as it felt, how everything could be true at the same time?
“I am fromaplanet, one found at a star very far away, probably in another dimension. Think of how you perceive the underworld—distant but a real place, not tied to this planet.”
Draw sat quietly staring at the fire for a long time. I thought about finally going to look for some sleep, but fatigue held me to the chair, empty drink in hand. Plus, I was comfortable with him now that I saw the lengths to which he was going to help me.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
Uh-oh.My ability to exist peacefully in the castle was dependent on Draw’s analysis of me, and I’d pushed too far on his delicate “life on other planets” theory.
“You said Sorrel was a Fairy Bookmother.”
I nodded slowly, sure I was about to be ensnared.
“Book as inb-o-o-k?”
I nodded.
He stood and stirred the fire. “A sorceress so powerful she could pull you across the stars. What does that have to do with books?”
I took a shaky breath. “Have you ever read a really good book? And I don’t mean a book of scientific theory or the events of history. I mean, a novel. A book of made-up things.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “The Adventures of the Winged Familywas my first literary obsession.” When he saw I wasn’t moved by the title alone, he pressed on, his voice alive. “The famous children’s tale? Well, famous to children of nobility, I suppose. The whole family has wings? A nasty witch wants to cut them off to keep them from flying to the moon?”
“I don’t know the story, but, yes, fiction like that.”
Lord Draw seemed excited now. “I read a book recently about a man who traveled around the globe in a basket lifted by flying horses. It was marvelous.” His eyes grew big. “Oh, dear gods above, are you—” It seemed, of all the fantastical things we’d discussed, this was the hardest to put to words. “Are you from a book?”
My face fell. I should have seen where this was going, and I felt badly about introducing the idea that some realities were, well, less real than others.
“No, I’m not from a book. At least, I don’t think so. You see...the reason I know things about Landsome and Ironclaw and the Dark Mage is...well, I read them. In a book.”
Chapter Eight: De Nile is a River
At my admission, Drawtook me by the elbow, escorted me out of the room, and shut the door behind me as if dazed. I thought our conversation had gone well and even toward the end, it seemed like he believed me, so I was surprised at his response. Maybe he thought I was lying again. Or plain crazy.
