Page 15 of Revert
“You know answers aren’t handed out freely in this kingdom,” Prince Castiel said. “If you want something, you’ll have to discover it yourself.” He gestured towards the vast array of shelves nestled between the tall, dust-veiled windows.
The sheer volume left me exhausted. I didn’t even know where to begin, let alonewhyhe’d brought me here. Was this a trap cloaked in riddles? A test? Or something else entirely? Whatever his purpose, he kept it hidden, leaving me to sift through the shadows filling his silence in search of meaning.
“I wasn’t aware I’d been hired as your librarian,” I said coolly. “Is this your idea of courtship, or am I simply easier to eliminate when no one’s watching?”
“If you’d prefer the dungeons, I could certainly arrange something more dramatic.”
I stiffened at their mention, a reaction he noticed. A flicker of what almost appeared to be remorse crossed his expression, gone almost as quickly as it had come.
“I didn’t mean—I meant it in jest. I would never send you to such a horrible place.”
He had already once done far worse.
I didn’t dignify the fumbled, insincere apology with a response. I schooled my expression as he gestured for me to follow him, as if being led into the rows of shelves by the man who had murdered me was no more than a routine courtship ritual.
He hadn’t called it that, of course. The invitation had come cloaked in the language of duty, yet his earlier slip of the tongue left me questioning his true intentions, ones that no matter how much I tried to interpret, refused to make sense.
What exactly did he expect me to find? He hadn’t issued a command or even offered direction—only an implied challenge. Was I supposed to stumble across something specific, or was the confusion itself a new kind of game I hadn’t yet learned the rules to?
I opened the first tome with cautious fingers, still uncertain what I was looking for and too distracted by my speculation on the prince’s motives to truly focus on the book. The spine crackled, brittle from disuse. Dust bloomed in soft clouds as I skimmed the faded title page—an old ledger of court proceedings, the year smudged into obscurity. I flipped through the pages, faintly aware of his presence nearby, watching in formidable silence.
As I perused the shelves, my attention wandered, tugged repeatedly towards him no matter how I tried to anchor it to the books.
I used to spend an obsessive amount of time studying my betrothed, especially in the early days of our engagement, whenI still harbored naïve delusions that an amiable match was within reach rather than the tension that awaited my future. I’d watched him then in hopes of discovering that the true man beneath the rumors surrounding him could be disproved…a wish that had quickly died and then been irretrievably buried over the following years. Or so I’d thought.
It startled me when I caught myself admiring him—his stillness, his striking form cut against the dust-filled light, the way his expression held something unreadable but no longer entirely cold. There was a softness now—so faint I couldn’t be sure it was real—that I was certain hadn’t been there in the old timeline before my death.
I gave my head a sharp shake. Attractive killers were still murderers. I turned my attention back to my book, but the words blurred as my focus drifted, unbidden, to the crown prince once more, as if an unseen spell beckoned my awareness.
He stood across the room, fingers trailing along the spines of the shelves. At first he appeared to be idly browsing, but something about the movement felt…strained. His hand paused over a volume, fingers tightening around the spine—not with intent, but hesitation, as if he was reaching for something forbidden.
One book after another passed beneath my hands—dynastic records, grain inventories, trade agreements, treatises on magic regulation. Useless distractions, nothing that would aid my mission that would help save my father and many others in our kingdom. Perhaps that was his true aim—Prince Castiel was not a man who did anything by accident.
If this was punishment for being caught where I shouldn’t have been, it was an oddly generous one—it seemed strange to reward forbidden curiosity with more information. He clearly hadn’t brought me here just to spend time together, so there hadto be another reason…though I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be.
The mystery gnawed at me until I could no longer bear the uncertainty. I cleared my throat of the dust I’d breathed, braving his disapproval as I spoke. “Why did you really bring me here?”
His lips twitched. “You contained your curiosity longer than I expected. Quite commendable.” He pulled a book from the nearest shelf and opened it with studied nonchalance. “You like books. I thought you might find something useful.”
“Useful,” I echoed. “That’s not typically the word people use when inviting someone to spend time with them.”
Something that could almost be mistaken for amusement once again flickered in his eyes as he glanced up. “I could charm you with flattery instead, but neither of us enjoys pretending.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to puzzle out his intention. Of all the days for him to suddenly grow talkative, he had chosen the worst when I was already on edge. “You don’t strike me as someone who trades in pretenses.”
He held my gaze for a second longer before returning to the book with the air of someone pretending to be absorbed. “Second shelf, far right. There’s a volume that might satisfy that relentless curiosity of yours—the kind that drives you to ignore caution and reason in pursuit of answers. Rest assured, unlike where I found you last night, that section isn’t forbidden.”
Second shelf, far right…the very section where I had caught him standing, trapped in hesitation, hand hovering near a book he’d never summoned the strength to pull from the shelves. What could be his motive in leading me there?
I studied him closely, weighing his tone and every carefully chosen word. I was certain a snare lay hidden beneath the surface, but if there was, he gave nothing away.
“I’ll let you work.” With a nod, he stepped away, but his absence didn’t erase his presence. I still felt the weight of hisattentive gaze, lingering long after he vanished into the maze of dusty shelves, ever watching.
After a hesitant pause deliberating whether I should pursue this unknown clue, I crossed to the shelf he’d indicated. The book sat tucked behind others, bound in age-cracked leather. Its spine was too faded to read, save for the faint glint of a silver-threaded emblem barely visible in the dim, grey light.
My fingers hovered over it for a moment before I slowly eased the cover open.
Halfway through the worn pages, I found it—the spiral I’d discovered last night, nestled between lines of faded ink. I peered closer, comparing the shape to the image in my mind—same number of coils, same subtle tilt to the inner loop.
