“Yes. I have a sister and an aunt, but my parents have passed.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say softly. “What’s your sister called?”
A frown mars his brow. “Wait, is this…? Are you trying to get information out of me so you can guess which is my story?”
“I wasn’t,” I admit, “but you sure are suspicious of my motives. I’m the one who didn’t give you up, remember?”
“Because you think I’m a good person,” he whispers.
“Aren’t you? You need to come clean, Olm. Tell me the truth.”
“I don’t think the truth is as amazing a thing as you believe it to be,” he says softly and shimmers, starting to fade. “Some lies make us happier.”
“Damn, Olm, no…”
But then he’s gone, too.
Further sleep eludes me, so I give in and grab the journal. Burrowed under the covers, I leaf through it some more. If Roane won’t give me the answers I seek, that’s on him. I’ll search these pages for clues.
He shouldn’t have left his journal alone with a thief.
He shouldn’t have left after touching me the way he did.
‘Day Twenty-Two-Thousand of my Guardianship: the Book of Areon whispers to me. Areon himself speaks in my ear, demanding I open the book and release him from its pages. He says if I leave him in the story, he’ll die, that I can save him, but we all know stories can’t change. What if I could do it, though? What if I could save him?’
I frown. Areon wanted to escape his story?
Finally, a piece of the puzzle drops into place. This bit has to be why Roane is so suspicious of Olm. He was tempted himself by a book character once, and none other but Areon himself. He knows how hard it is to resist, but then how come I’ve resisted Olm for so long?
I have, haven’t I? I haven’t taken him to the palace, yet I haven’t had him bound and chained, either. Could Roane be right? Has Olm used magic to influence my judgment?
‘Day Twenty-Five-Thousand of my Guardianship: I had a visitor today. My favorite cousin trekked up here to give me family news and bring delicacies from the manor. He is like a brother to me and the joy that flooded my heart was unexpected and intense, while at the same time cutting me deeply.
I was getting used to my solitude. Built a wall around my mind to protect my sanity. Spending a few days with a belovedperson tore that wall down as easily as if it were made of paper. He spent four days here, regaling me with stories of our family, the pranks the little ones got up to and my aunt’s ire. After that, I waved him goodbye and wept, feeling more alone than ever.’
Right…I lift my gaze from the pages. He had visitors. They could come and go. It confirms what Olm told me. The gates used to be open. This world didn’t use to be so closed off and isolated.
This journal is both entertaining and sad, distracting me from the insanity that has become my life since I arrived here—even more so over these past two days. Seeing Ardruna and Talton dead, seeing them return to life, finding out they are book characters… My mind shies away from these facts, needing time to adapt, curl around them and embrace them, accept them as real.
It’s so much easier to lose myself in a story, like I always do, and follow Ersil’s adventures over the many years he spent here.
Until he stopped writing, about the time he pulled Ardruna and Talton out of a book and into his life. Was that the deciding factor? Why would he stop writing? Did his magic fail him and he stopped recording his life? Was he too busy to make the time? Was he happy enough that he didn’t feel the need? But what about the rules that say a guardian has to keep a log?
A noise breaks through my thoughts. A male voice.
“Roane!” I set the journal aside, my heart pounding both in excitement and anxiety. His last words were ominous, but I hope he’s calmer now and we can talk.
The memory of what we did earlier sends another wave of heat through me, and I throb pleasantly where he touched me and licked me between my legs. Embarrassment tries to rear its ugly head, but I’ve always found society to be too prohibitive. I’m an adult, I have a right to my pleasure, and what’s more, this isas far away from the capital’s restrictions as I could ever hope to get.
But then I hear a female voice, too.
Ardruna! She’s back. That’s great. A smile tugs on my lips as a weight lifts off my chest. I’m happy for him. I hope Talton is back, too.
As they approach, talking together, I get up and run my fingers through my hair. Gods, I need to bathe. I reek. I wish I had a bar of herbal soap, like the ones Naida makes, to wash myself with. Lavender and rose. Thyme and lemon. I can almost feel the weight of the soap bar in my hand, hear the water splashing in the basin where I washed my hair and Naida humming a song in the background.
Pushing away the weight of longing the memory brings, I straighten my clothes. The voices are very close now and I walk behind the nearest column, intending to intercept them as they arrive.
Now I can hear them clearly and… I wish I didn’t.
