Page 88 of Brutal Fae King
“I understand,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I had to face my sister in the same way.”
As I say it, I feel myself shrink down a little as a little homesickness washes over me. His arm winds around my back.
“Thank you, Ebelor,” he says. “But let’s forget about that for now. We’re here.”
I look at where we are. I’m not exactly sure where we are—there’s just a massive set of double doors in front of me. They’re beautifully wooden, ornately carved, swirls framing the doors, with the odd rose in the corners. No sign on it to give me an indication of what is inside.
Vicmar’s hand touches my lower back—or so I think, until I turn and see it’s his wing.
“Do you like it?” He chuckles. “You’re just staring at the doors like you’ve never seen a set before, but believe it or not, the surprise isinside.”
“Oh,” I find myself blushing a little. “Yes, they’re lovely. I was just trying to figure out where we were.”
“Open the doors and find out!” he laughs.
I walk forward and take hold of the golden handle. When I lower it down, I almost expect it to be locked, but he wouldn’t be that cruel, right?
It opens without a problem, and for a moment, there’s such a bright spotlight coming down on my face from the majestic windows in the room that I can’t see it for a second. Once my eyes adjust, my breath is taken away.
Directly in front of me is a grand arched window, through which the perfect golden light fills in, lighting up the towering furniture in the room. There are bookshelves so large and ornate that I have to crane my head all the way back to see the tops of them. Once I’m looking at their tops I see even more library I didn’t notice before—a second floor above my head, a balcony jutting out making up the second floor, with a golden rail curling around. On the wall at the back, more books. The walls themselves are bookshelves.
There are more books than I have ever seen before in my life. Truly books of every kind, some newer ones in vivid scarlets and sapphires with golden titles, others ancient leatherbound types, with yellowing pages and dog-eared from use. There are some scrolls tucked away on top of the books and some loose pages stuffed away on the sides.
I can’t comprehend just how many books are in this one room. I crane my head back, looking at so many of them, until my head starts reeling. I realize my mouth has been gaping this whole time from the thick, musty taste of old books on my tongue. Once I tip my head back down, I feel awoosh,and my vision blacks out for a moment. I put a hand on my head, and a pair of hands touch my shoulder, his wing on my lower back.
“Oh! Do you ail?” Vicmar laughs lightly.
“No… I just…” I look back up at the bookshelves. “It’s so incredible!”
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Oh, by the gods, I do!” I spin around to him and link my arms around his neck. I kiss him on the cheek for a second before I ask. “But why? Why did you do this? How did you know?”
“I spoke with Dronfil,” Vicmar says, chest puffing up in pride. “Once you could decorate your room, you kept filling it with more and more books. I had a talk with all the guards, and I got an entire section filled with the kind of books you like to read.”
I’m already glowing, but I brighten even more when I hear Vicmar saying the guard’s name. When I first met him, he treated the staff like dogs, barking orders at them and never remembering their names, but he’s clearly been trying to improve himself in that regard after I let him know it bothers me. It makes me so happy to see.
Vicmar breaks the embrace and walks over to the nearest section—there are a lot of newer books here:
“I’ve put them all here—your favorites, that is,” he says. “I’ve just been calling it Ebelor’s shelf for now.”
He chuckles, and I smile back, but happy tears are stinging my eyes. I avoid laughing so I don’t accidentally start crying instead.
“But there’s more than that here. The complete history of Faevea is over there.” He points them out as he mentions them. “And the written laws are next to it. On the other side is the complete history of magic, as well as specific spell books and magical crafts.”
Vicmar walks back toward me and puts a hand on my shoulder, then points to the second floor.
“Up there is the philosophy section, as well as miscellaneous books on arts and different races and their cultures,” he continues. “Before your shelf was established down here, the fiction was up there too, but now it’s down here.”
He swings around to look me in the eye. The crook of his finger touches underneath my chin and tips it up toward him.
“This used to be my private library, but now, it’s all yours. Every inch of it, every book, everything,” Vicmar says, then chuckles. “Just do forgive me if I forget to knock at first; it’ll be odd to consider this placeyoursanctuary from now on.”
“But why?” I murmur, the tears welling up. “You didn’t need to do this.”
Vicmar scoffs.
“Of course I did! You clearly needed a place that suited you,” he says, then his brow furrows a little. “You do like it, don’t you? You’re crying.”
