Page 21 of Crownless King

My heart beat frantically. I hadn’t planned on taking the book. Now that I’d taken it, would it look like I stole it?

I wished Voron was home, so I could tell him I had it. The easiest thing would be to bring the book back. But since I already had it, maybe I could at least look inside first?

I dropped the book on the low table by my unlit fireplace and sat in the armchair next to it.

It didn’t feel right to learn Voron’s family secrets behind his back. I really wished he were here with me.

But he wasn’t. He was taking a trip around the countryside, rather than spending any more time than was absolutely necessary under the same roof as me.

Reaching over, I unlocked the clasps, then tentatively lifted the front cover. The next page was blank, no title text, no introduction, nothing. I flipped it, finding nothing on the next page either. And the next one, and the next. The book of what seemed like hundreds and hundreds of pages was completely blank inside.

Leaving it open, I slumped in my chair.

“Is it a joke?”

It made no sense whatsoever.

Suddenly, a pale glow lifted from the yellowed pages. Thin tendrils of bluish light rose higher, curling above the book into letters.

“Recorded history of Elaros, the royal Sky Palace.”

“Elaros? Isn’t it supposed to be Vensari?” I muttered.

The light shifted, the silver-blue lines uncoiled from the shape of the letters and re-curled into a series of different images.

First, I saw a cloaked horseman approach a gate. He was holding something under his cloak. The images were so detailed, I quickly recognized Voron as the horseman and myself as the short, curvy shape in his arms. I was dressed in a long black shirt, a little too tight around my hips, considerably too long in the sleeves and overall. It was Voron’s black shirt that he’d put on me when I was about to jump into the River of Mists.

The book was recreating the night when I first arrived in Vensari.

Alcon flew into the image.

“Brebie is here,” he reported to Voron. “I brought her from Elaros, as you requested, my general.”

Voron dismounted from his horse, taking me with him, and marched up to the front entrance of his family home.

Brebie met him in his bedroom, finishing putting sheets on the bed.

“Sparrow will stay here.” Voron headed for the bed.

“Oh gods!” Brebie gasped at the sight of me. She promptly spread a dark blanket over the luxurious bedspread.

“I want a hag,” he ordered, not laying me down. “Healers. Priests.”

Brebie ran an assessing look over my body.

“She doesn’t need a priest or a hag, my lord. She hasn’t been cursed or bewitched. All she needs is a nice bath, some rest, and good food.”

For once, Voron looked lost. Clutching me to his chest, he lingered by the bed.

“Put her down, my lord,” Brebie instructed. “Let go of her. She’ll be fine. She’s more likely to suffocate in your arms, the way you’re squeezing her.”

He let her lead him to the side of the bed, then set me gently on the covers.

“I’m so sorry, little bird. It’s all my fault. All of it,” he said softly, dropping his head between his shoulders.

“Oh, stop it.” Brebie waved a hand. “There is no point in blaming anyone. Let’s just focus on making her feel better now. Come, help me undress her. I have to wash all that dungeon grime off the poor thing.”

She fetched a large bowl of warm water from the bathroom. Together with Voron, they got me out of my clothes, then she rinsed my hair and expertly cleaned my body with a fluffy washcloth.

---