Page 141 of The Forbidden Fae King

He is in another realm, on another world, so incredibly far away from my little kingdom of Strathia.

The bath is ice cold by the time I pull myself out of it. When I look in the mirror, my eyes are bloodshot, red rimmed and puffy. It will not do. The future bride of the heir to the kingdom cannot be seen looking depressed.

I gaze at myself in the mirror and will my need into being. I focus on those puffy eyes. Bore into them while visualizing smooth creamy skin, and the swelling slowly fades as the color adjusts. I shift my attention to the whites of my eyes, and the fact they are deeply veined and red, and focus my glamour magic until they too are gone.

I had not known I was capable of glamour until I had a need for it.

For reasons I cannot explain, I strap the dagger I won from Aldrin to my upper thigh. Shivers run through my body at the memory of his being blindfolded as I attacked him, and how we landed in the grass with his face buried in my chest.

I glance down at the knife. The large ruby in the hilt glitters in the orb light and a scattering of others decorate the blade, alongside decorative silver wire.

It is an utterly impractical design and I wonder why he kept it on him. If it had some sentimental value. It is the most precious thing I own. I get to keep a small part of him with me.

Diarmuid knocks on my door and escorts me to the library. I am emotionally exhausted and completely numb inside, and I think he notices despite my glamour. He gives me a long look, but doesn’t say anything.

We walk through the grand doors of the library and weave through the isles, the familiar smell of old paper and fresh ink a slave to my mind.

My attention wanders lazily across tall bookcases that reach to theceiling and the ladders that run across them, all the deepest mahogany. Arching pillars break up the massive hall of the library and many golden orbs illuminate the space with a warm glow. We pass busts of ancient scholars that head each aisle like guardians.

I absentmindedly read the descriptive tags that hang over each region of books. One section is set in darkness, like they are purposely trying to draw people away, but curiosity draws me in.

I grab my brother’s arm. “What do you think is in there?” I effortlessly light an orb within my hand, guiding it over.

A mischievous smile forms on his lips as he glances over his shoulder. “Only one way to find out.”

It is unlabeled but crammed with books on the fae and the Otherworld. I skirt my free hand over the texts, all new in their binding.

There is a doorway at the end of the aisle, guarded with an iron gate and magical wards. With a flick of my wrist, I solidify and push the air within the lock to open the mechanism, and pry open a passageway in the weak magic of the ward. It is like pulling open curtains at their seam.

We both creep in. A mischievous smile grows wide on my brother’s face. He is always so easy to corrupt.

The tiny space holds a spiraling iron staircase that leads down to a room hidden below. My eyes widen at the texts within. They are so old, from the time of the Great War or earlier. History texts written about the fae, in the time they lived amongst us.

As I run my hands over the spines, I can sense the magical oaths bound into many, the author swearing the truth of what they write, accompanied by the magic of witnesses.

There is even a cabinet of Living Memory Scrolls at the back corner, exactly as I had witnessed in Aldrin’s library. I take a step toward them.

“My father would not take kindly to you being down here.” A voice stops me in my tracks, making cold sweat break out across me. I turn to Niall. “But I understand the curiosity. They put the wards on the door in the first place because I kept breaking into here as a child.”

This is a treasure trove for Aldrin’s cause.

The people of Strathia would trust these texts, since humans wrote them. And the fact the king kept them means they have value. I am sure they are key to proving that despite the war, the fae weren’t always an enemy. That we lived in harmony with them.

“I thought all the original texts from the Great War with the fae were destroyed,” I utter.

“There are too many inconvenient truths in here. Better that they remain hidden when the truth won’t change anything.” Niall looks at my brother. “Surely you don’t have a problem with secrets, druid?”

My brother coughs. There is no order more secretive than his.

Niall leads us back to the main hall of the library, past its centerpiece, multiple portals arranged in a circle. The great arches are of smooth, continuous pieces of moonstone that twist upon themselves, taller than any man and twice as wide.

They emit their own soft glow, with blues and greens and yellows shimmering within the milky white stone.

I stare longingly at them as we pass, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the stone.

When I first saw the portals here, I inspected every inch of them and felt their call. My heart had leapt because magic still brims within them and maybe, just maybe, there is still a way for me to get back to Aldrin.

It was a foolish thought.

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