“No wonder you never let anyone see you cry. You are absolutely hideous.”
I dragged the back of my hand across my face, wiping away the snot and tears and disbelief.
“I am so sorry,” I said again, this time in a broken whisper.
Parys tugged at the end of my braid, no longer waist-length. His warm brown eyes studied my face. I expected him to frown at the changes he must see there, but the corners of his smile only deepened.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said.
I choked on another sob. “My mother murdered you.”
“The Dowager never was particularly fond of me,” he joked. He looked whole and healthy, no physical signs of how he’d died. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected… perhaps for his hair to be wet, water leaking from his mouth. But his curls bounced merrily at his shoulders, no sign of his watery death anywhere to be seen.
I reached out, fingering the edge of his collar to reassure myself this was real. As real as it could be. I was not even sure how I’d come here—and deep inside of the soul that I might very well sacrifice before the day was done—I knew I would not be able to come here again. This was a gift from the Ancestors, from Nimue. To help give me the courage I needed.
Parys’ closed his fingers around mine, then tugged them up and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. I laughed at the intimacy that only he had ever claimed. But Parys, as always, saw through me.
“I am fine. See,” he gestured to the spread behind him. “Plenty of books and wine.”
“You are dead,” I reminded him.
Parys shrugged as if that fact meant nothing, and noteverything. “This realm is not so bad.”
I looked around. “All the places in the universe you could choose, and this is it, huh?”
Parys waggled his index finger at me. “Ah, you are focused on what you do see. But think for a second about what you don’t.”
It took me several seconds to realize. “There are no librarians.”
“Exactly!” Parys smacked his thigh and laughed, the sound reverberating through the stacks.
I let the vibration settle in my chest, savoring it. “It is so wonderful to see you,” I whispered.
Parys quirked a brow. “But I’m not the one you were looking for?”
The guilt climbed my cheeks in streaks of heat before I could tame it.
“I expected you to be together.”
“Who says we aren’t?” Parys countered.
I glanced meaningfully around the very empty library.
“You should know better than anyone that time and space do not always work in the way that we expect.”
Indeed.
“How do I find him?” Then I added, with more force than I’d intended, “No cryptic answers. I’ve had enough word play to last a dozen fae lifetimes.”
Parys only laughed.
“Try the doors,” he suggested, nodding over my shoulder.
I did not want to let him go. He still held my hand. But the pull was growing. Different from the compulsion of the mating bond when Arran used it to tether me and pull me from the void. This feeling was older, seeded in me from birth.
Parys brushed another kiss over my knuckles and then released my hand, giving me a little push. I backed away, unwilling to give up even a second of him before I absolutely had to. But too soon, I was at the massive library doors. I reached behind me for the handle.
Parys dropped back down among his books and wine. But he did not look away.
