EMPTY GRAVES
ADELINE
“Is this going to be our new reality?” Ardruna is muttering. “Are you going to be changing everything we’ve always known and giving it new forms? Or return it to its older forms?”
“I don’t know,” I say under my breath. “It’s not my job.”
“Is it Roane’s, though?”
“No,” I say, “Roane’s would have been to send all these creatures straight back into the books they escaped from, before they had the time to distort into different shapes.”
“You make it sound like it’s his fault. He inherited this world such as you see it and is doing his best to keep it from falling apart.”
I don’t say, ‘He’s doing such a shitty job of it,’ because sure, that would be unkind. It only piques my curiosity more. What in the hells happened to this world? Why can’t Roane fix it? Why doesn’t anyone seem to know?
And why doesn’t Roane want to talk about it?
He probably feels guilty. You are already judging him. If he did something wrong, if his librarian magic has failed him, he may be beating himself over it already.
Assuming he’s a good person. A decent person. Which is what Ardruna claims, but you have a few doubts about it.
The meadows give way to low, rolling hills. We aren’t near the river this time, and I keep an eye out for snakes—and griffins, goblins, and other assorted little horrors—when Ardruna stops.
“Look. He’s here.”
“Who?” But I know already. The cemetery is a grove of tombstones and he’s kneeling before one of them, head bowed, long black hair hiding his face. He cuts a stark, lonely picture, and a pang grips my chest.
I’d ask what he’s doing here, but it’s self-evident. Only…
“Has he lost someone?” I whisper.
“He’s never mentioned anything of the sort,” Ardruna grunts. “But now it makes sense why I met him here. I wonder if he visits this tomb sometimes when we think he’s out hunting. Huh. Well, you should tell him what happened with the horses.”
“Yeah…”
As if in a dream, I walk through the cemetery, my shoes barely making a sound in the grass covering the gentle hill slope. It’s a beautiful spot, green and fresh. The standing stones look old, covered in lichens and mosses, but the one he’s visiting looks clean, scraped, and scrubbed.
I walk among the tombs, silently reading the names inscribed on them. I know a few. Naida has mentioned them in passing once or twice, the few times she talked about the Library of Areon.
“The names of warrior librarians who passed from this place,” I whisper. “Marked by the coats of arms of their houses.”
Ardruna trots beside me. “I haven’t been here in ages. Well, since I met Roane. I wonder where Talton is.”
“You three are kind of inseparable, aren’t you?”
“We’re a family,” she says simply.
No wonder she’s defending Roane with everything in her power.
“Families are important,” I agree. “My adoptive family means everything to me, too.”
“Adoptive?”
“They found me as a baby. Raised me as their own. My brother Eiras accompanied me on this mission, but I was attacked by a dark fae who tried to steal the book from me. I just hope Eiras made it back home safely. I hope Naida and Brogan are all right.”
“Naida and Brogan?”
“My adoptive parents. Brogan had an accident and can’t work.” My throat closes, because I try not to think too hard about what will become of him… If he’ll fade away under the blankets. “And she’s a storyteller, a healer and an herbalist, but that can only bring in so much coin. I used to… help out.”
