Page 18 of The Forbidden Fae King

I am immediately wrapped up by the scent of old leather and aged paper, making my heart rise.

Mahogany bookshelves reach from floor to high ceiling, occupying every wall, with sliding ladders that allow access to the highest books. A rich assortment of colors pop on the shelves, and many leather spines have gold titles embossed on them that glitter in light.

Orbs hover at the top of each bookshelf and there are multiple fireplaces still lit and roaring.

My footfalls click on the mosaic floor as I leave the first room and come out into the main body of the library. In its center, there are couches for lounging and broad desks for research. There is currently a druid and two scholars reading tomes instead of remaining at the feast. I nod to each as I pass.

More rooms branch off this one. There is an entire section for fiction, collected by generations of my family. Another completely dedicated to war, with a tactile table in the middle with maps of both the human realm and the Otherworld. It is in this room that fae history books are kept, but we have precious few, and many are contradictory, especially around the Great War.

I sit down at my regular table and take in my surroundings. Thisplace is full of opportunities; escapes to different fictional worlds and an immense amount of knowledge.

The answer to any question must be in these books.

Except…I can’t seem to find the greatest answers I need.

Something doesn't feel right. It curls within my gut. Something BIG that I am not piecing together. My mind keeps replaying that look Prince Finan gave to Caitlin. The smug smile on King Willard's lips.

Maybe it’s nothing.

What is there in a single look? A smile?

I have a tendency to overreact.

But why are we not betrothed? Unless he wants to keep his options open.

No. It is the king who is being fickle.

I glance down at my table, in desperate need of a distraction. There are stacks of books piled high all around me, and more spread open at different pages. All are on the fae, and what our historians knew of their world when travel between realms was common in both directions, and people of both races migrated across the veil.

None are original volumes, and that has always bothered me. Information can get lost or twisted when paraphrased.

It is pure insanity that a human would havechosento live in the fae realm, amongst those cruel people. What could their lives have been like, to live as an underclass to the high fae?

But maybe they spent their lives hidden away in the wild parts of that world, where magic flows through the water like tiny bright lights and mists in the air. Where the low fae live their lives bonded to trees and flowers and lakes, and every day is a celebration of nature and a festival without limitations or formalities.

The fae realm has been described as a place where a person can be whoever they want to be, with absolute freedoms. So long as they do not end up in the clutches of the wicked and possessive high fae.

A deep longing rolls through me.

Absolute freedom to make my own choices is so incredibly enticing, but I would need to make too many sacrifices.

My vision blurs as I stare off at nothing. I rub the fatigue from them and study the maps propped open on my desk.

There are four of them, one for each of the fae courts. They are copies of maps almost five hundred years old, and I am painfully aware of how out of date the data is.

In the very center of my desk, sits a book bound in crimson leather and embossed with silver flowers and leaves and hearts. It is a romance between a human woman and a high fae lord.

The idea seems preposterous.

Completely implausible that a high fae could love anything, especially a human, but something keeps drawing me into picking it up. Curiosity perhaps.

It must be a complete fantasy.

The utter passion and devotion between the pair, it couldn’t be real, and the world shaking sex. It doesn’t sound possible. But I can’t stop reading it.

I tap my fingers on the cover of the romance. It is another relic from before the war. I cast it aside for a history tome. The pages crinkle beneath my touch, and I hold my breath as I turn each one, afraid of tearing the relic.

If Caitlin will take this pilgrimage to the Otherworld, I will ensure she is as informed as possible.

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