“So why don’t you?”
She grinned. “I found ways to read what I wanted to. I always had a novel in the bathroom. I spent so much time in there, all my tutors were convinced I had a digestive disorder.”
Krey laughed, the sound bouncing off dusty pages and leather bindings. He almost told Nora about the night he’d set his blanket aflame reading by candlelight, but he forced himself to focus on why they were here. “Let’s find the books Eira was telling us about.”
“Which side did she say was nonfiction?” Nora asked.
“Left.” He turned that direction. “She said we should look at the third and fourth shelves from the back.”
Perhaps half an hour later, they’d set aside two tall stacks of books. “We need to find a place to read,” Krey said.
Nora turned. “Why not stay here? It’s cooler underground than it is outside. Besides, I’m not ready to go back to the real world yet.”
“I’d stay here for the next month if I could, but do you really want to sit on this hard floor?”
“I saw a table in the back.” Nora led him to a tiny table wedged into the corner of the room, with two stools tucked underneath.
“This’ll work,” Krey said.
“Perfect.” Nora set her lantern on the table. “Let’s figure out what we’re reading first.”
Krey carried his lantern back to their stacks of books. He and Nora each chose one, then returned to the table. When they were settled, he opened his book carefully, the feel of the ancient paper bringing immediate stillness to his heart.
Time always passed differently when he was reading. Minutes and hours lost meaning, replaced by the more pertinent measure of increased knowledge. As he read of ancient battles and machinations, Krey realized he was made to research this stuff. He’d always loved trying to figure out the how and why of magic. War and politics fed the same part of his mind.
Nora was just as engrossed as he was. Every once in a while, one of them stopped the other to share a particularly helpful passage. Krey focused on the big picture—how troops moved and governments formed. Nora picked up on the human side of things, like why people followed some leaders yet despised others and how war affected the civilian population.
Twice, they got in drawn-out debates about what they’d read, their raised voices devouring the library’s hush. Each time, the argument peaked, then waned as they adjusted their views and met in the middle. They both seemed to realize they didn’t have time for their usual stubbornness.
Krey finished his book—reading certain passages in depth and skimming others—and returned to the shelves. He stretched as he walked, working out the kinks he’d gotten from sitting in the same position for so long.
As he knelt next to the stacks of books they’d chosen, using the lantern light to peruse the titles on their spines, he found himself shaking his head. Nora was obviously smart, but he’d never seen her dive into learning like this. They’d been too busy fleeing and fighting. He’d had to leave his own passion for books behind temporarily. Now here he was, picking up that passion again—and finding that one of his new friends shared it. That’s pretty damn cool.
He chose a book and returned to the table.
“About time,” Nora said. She didn’t look up, but Krey saw a smile playing on her lips.
“I was gone for maybe two minutes!”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. I can’t expect you to be as devoted to this quest for knowledge as I am.”
He smiled as he sat, not letting her rile him. “I like this side of you,” he heard himself say.
She finally lifted her eyes from the page she was reading. “What, my sarcastic side?”
“No, I’m all too familiar with that.” He laughed when she made a face at him. “I mean you diving into these books. I didn’t know you were like that. It’s—”
He halted, because the word that had been about to come out of his mouth was totally inappropriate. He’d been about to say, It’s hot.
What the hell? Where did that come from?
“It’s what?”
He recovered quickly. “It’s a good quality for a future queen to have.”
A soft smile stole over her mouth. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, let’s get back to it.”
They returned to the old books, breaking occasionally to discuss topics such as weapons and taxes. Nora read aloud a chapter about advisors, and they got in a heated argument about whether Sharai was worth listening to. Realizing they were too far apart on that topic to compromise, they dropped it.
Krey was reading about the nuclear weapons in Anyari’s distant past when Nora said, “I need to grab another book.”
He looked up. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Since you’re so devoted to this quest for knowledge.”
“I’ll be back in thirty.”
True to her word, she returned to the table almost immediately. “Check out this cover. Have you ever seen anything like it?” She ran the tips of her long fingers over the embossed border of the book she’d chosen.
“That’s beautiful,” Krey said, admiring the intricate scrollwork.
“Feel it.” She took his hand.
Krey froze.
Nora looked up, a questioning smile on her lips. “Feel it, Krey. The texture—after all these years, it’s still so soft.”
He nodded, letting her guide his hand onto the book. As soon as she’d put it in the right place, she let go.
He ran his fingers on the embossed area, but all he could think about was what her hand had felt like. It was warm and strong, her skin rougher than he would’ve expected—the result of months of bow hunting and shimshim cleaning, he supposed. Her fingers on his had felt good. Too good. What was wrong with him? Maybe the fumes from all the books were affecting his brain.
“It’s great, right?” Nora said.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
Nora opened her book, and Krey forced his attention to the words in front of him. Before long, he was engrossed again.
At last, Nora closed the first book she’d picked up. “My eyes need a break.”
Krey finished the paragraph he was reading, suddenly realizing how weary his own eyes were. He rubbed them, noted the page he was on, and closed the book. “I can’t believe Eira showed us this place.”
“It’s a mark of trust,” Nora said. “And, despite herself, I think she likes us.”
Krey smirked. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Speaking of liking people . . .” Nora gave him a hesitant smile. “How are you doing? With Zeisha?”
“That,” Krey said, “was the worst conversational segue I’ve ever heard.”
Nora laughed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but there are always too many people around. So . . . any chance you two will get back together? You made a great couple.”
His heart ached as he considered the question. He missed so much about Zeisha. Her unconditional love. The way she felt in his arms. Their history together—no one else knew him like she did.
All at once, his unsettling thoughts about Nora made sense. He wasn’t interested in her; that would be ridiculous. He just missed Zeisha. He missed being loved.
“You’re thinking pretty hard about my question,” Nora said.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope there’s still a chance.” Needing to escape from her sympathetic gaze, he asked, “What about you and Ovrun? Everything going okay?”
The question did the trick; she swiveled her head to look at the wall, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. After a long moment, she murmured, “I might be falling in love with him.”
“That’s great!” Krey said, unsure why he suddenly felt like he’d eaten something rancid. “Have you told him?”
“I said I might be. I’m not sure yet. And . . .” She swallowed, bringing her gaze back to Krey. “I don’t know if I’m good for him.”
“What do you mean? The guy idolizes you.”
“Yeah.” An
other swallow. “That’s the problem. I don’t think he sees me or his future clearly. We’ve been happy in Deroga. But it’s not like we’re gonna stay here. And be honest, can you really see him living in a palace for the rest of his life?”
Still anxious to banish the strange effect Nora was having on him today, Krey nearly blurted that of course Ovrun would be happy living in the palace. But the words stuck in his throat. Ovrun had stood on a rooftop, telling Krey about his dream of living a peaceful, rural life. He couldn’t experience that if he married a princess. With no idea how to answer her, Krey said, “You’ve known about Ovrun’s dreams for a long time. Why is it bothering you now?”
Nora shook her head slowly. “You don’t have a corner on being an ass, you know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“For the longest time, I didn’t want to think about my future with Ovrun. I was too busy enjoying the present.”
“Why does that make you an ass?”
“Because he kept trying to talk to me about the future, and I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t really care what he needed; I just wanted to have fun. And then . . .” She let out a long breath. “I started caring for him more, and his future started mattering to me. He’s willing to give up his dreams, but I don’t know if I can let him.” Groaning, she rested an elbow on the table and propped her chin on one hand. “I don’t know what to do, Krey.”
He certainly didn’t have any answers for her. “You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”
“That’s not even sort of helpful.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
“I guess we should get back to reading.” When he nodded, she dropped her gaze to her book.
Krey did the same. But the words were gibberish; he was too distracted. Why did his imagination keep fixating on Nora—on her passion for these books and the feel of her fingers on his hand? Was he really that desperate to fill the void Zeisha had left behind?
Zeisha. The woman I still love deeply. Just like Ovrun loves Nora.
By the orange sky above, what was wrong with him? One of his closest friends was madly in love with Nora. She was the definition of unavailable. And even if that weren’t the case, Krey was certain of one thing. She deserved better than a brain eater who carried his addiction like a pack full of live explosives, ready to blow up his life again at any moment.
Zeisha, too, deserved better than him. But for some reason he’d never understand, when he’d eaten shimshim brains four months ago, she’d loved him through it all. Through his detox and the following difficult days. And while he’d never even tried to measure up to her absolute goodness, he knew one thing for sure: he’d made her happy.
Yes, she’d stepped back to consider her new role as the Anya. He’d tried to accept that. But now they’d both had almost two months to think things through. In that time, Krey had become sure of one thing: No one would ever love him the way Zeisha had.
An odd yearning filled his heart, and all at once, he knew what he had to do. He closed his book. “It’s gotta be lunchtime by now.” As if on cue, his stomach let out a growl that seemed to bounce off every book in the basement library.
Nora laughed. “Can we come back after we eat?”
Krey lifted his eyes to her, relieved to see her casual, friendly grin. Nothing had changed between them. “I’m gonna see if I can find Zeisha. Then I’ll meet you back here.”
Her smile softened, and she squeezed his shoulder, like a sister might do. “Good luck, Krey.”
Zeisha was hard at work in a rooftop garden with Kebi, baking under the mid-afternoon sun.
“Hey,” a voice called from above.
Her head snapped up. “Krey! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
He alighted between two rows of chinnin, an Anyarian grain the trogs used for most of their baking. “Sorry. I wanted to see if we could have lunch together, but I didn’t realize how late it was until Nora and I left the library. I brought juice and bread, if you’d like a snack.” His eyes drifted to Kebi, who was kneeling, pulling weeds. Quietly, he said, “I was hoping you and I could talk alone.”
Zeisha felt her mouth open, but sound didn’t come out. She couldn’t imagine what Krey might want to discuss. No, that wasn’t true. She could imagine, and the intense look on his face supported her hunch. This was a conversation she didn’t want to have.
But it was one she needed to have.
“Kebi, do you mind if I take a little break?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Kebi said with a smile.
Zeisha led Krey across the big roof, past a line of bollaberry bushes. They sat facing each other in a patch of deep-brown soil. Krey pulled a small loaf of bread from his pack and split it between the two of them, then poured juice into two small cups.
Zeisha took a drink of the juice but merely picked at the bread’s crust. “What did you want to discuss?”
He wasn’t eating either. “Us.”
“Our . . . friendship?”
He gave her a sad, helpless smile. “Zei. We’re good together. And I’m not talking about friendship.”
“We’re better apart.” The frankness of her words surprised her, but she didn’t want to take them back.
“You really think that? Still?” He didn’t give her time to respond. “You know what I think? I think we’re both lonely, because we’re meant to be together. I think deep down, we still love each other. And I know if we tried this thing again, you’d see that I’m different. I’ll let you be whoever you need to be now. I’ll support you, and I won’t push you—”
“Are you really lonely?” Her quiet voice drove his words to a halt. “Or are you just afraid to move on?”
His blinking eyes and open mouth told her she’d hit on something true.
“Krey, I haven’t given you any indication . . .” She didn’t finish the thought, seeing the pain it elicited in his eyes. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
He crushed and twisted the bread in his hands, sending crumbs cascading to the soil. “You knew I was a brain eater from the beginning. And you never held it against me. Even when I went back to it. Maybe I’m just now realizing what a gift that was. You’re a gift, and I’ll never meet anyone else like you. I just . . . it seemed like a good time to tell you that.”
There was something he wasn’t saying, but it was no longer Zeisha’s job to scrutinize his heart. He was right; she did still love him, but not in the same way she once had. If she pressed him to open up further, he might read too much into her concern.
At a loss for words, she found her gaze drifting over the berry bushes and settling on Kebi. As if the trog sensed it, her eyes lifted to meet Zeisha’s. Her soft smile anchored Zeisha in the moment, taking the edge off her discomfort. Turning back to Krey, Zeisha said gently, “I don’t know what’s really going on with you, but you need to talk to someone about it. Maybe Ovrun.”
Krey let out a sudden, harsh laugh. “I can’t talk to him about this.”
Zeisha narrowed her eyes but didn’t press. She took a deep breath. “Krey, we’re not getting back together.”
He stiffened, a tinge of defensive anger entering his words. “You can’t know that.”
“I can, because I know myself.” Her heart ached as she saw the pain on his face. “I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms and looked away again, sipping his juice.
“Whatever you’re dealing with,” Zeisha said, “I’m not the answer.” She gave him a friendly smile. “But you’re surrounded by supportive people. Maybe you could talk to Nora.”
Again, a humorless laugh. “That won’t work either.”
She drained her small cup of juice, considering what she should say. At last, she spoke. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you’ll find someone else.”
“Why would someone else put up with my crap the way you did?” A strained smile stretched his lips, but she got the feeling it wasn’t a joke.
“Because you�
��re a good guy.”
“How can you say that? After I went back to an addiction I’d promised to leave behind? I broke your trust!”
“You also left home to find me. You risked your life to save the militia, then Deroga. When you messed up, you worked hard to rebuild trust. You’re a true friend—to me and Ovrun and Nora.”
He blinked. “Thanks.”
“I meant it. Every word.”
“If that’s the case . . .” His expression was all helpless desire. “Zeisha, please.”
“It’s time for both of us to figure out our lives. Separately.”
“Okay,” he said, though it clearly wasn’t. “I . . . had to ask.”
“I know.” She handed him her cup.
With efficient hands, he put his bread, the jug of juice, and both cups back in his pack. “I should go.”
Zeisha wanted to say something to make the moment less awkward, but what was she supposed to do? Give him false hope? When he stood, she did the same. “I’m glad you came.”
Krey nodded and, without a word, ran toward the stair access at the center of the roof.
“Aren’t you going to fly?” Zeisha asked.
“I need a good run.”
Shaking her head, Zeisha watched him go. What was that really all about?
6
This morning, I went to an early chapel service with Uncle Quin. I have no idea what the clergywoman said. I was too excited to see the prince.
He picked me up mid-morning for a drive through some farms outside the city. To stay anonymous, we kept the carriage curtains closed. We had only one guard, who pulled double duty as our driver.
Ulmin—he told me to call him that—pointed out details through a gap in the curtains: an orchard where an elderly woman creates new hybrid fruit every year, fields that aren’t producing as much as they should, an efficient new water pump design the monarchy funded.
The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3) Page 6
