Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
When we’re in the same room, sharing the same space, that ache dulls and cools. It’s as if by being near her, my aching is soothed, her presence my painkiller.
I’m not sure what this Cold Tether is all about, but I don’t like it. Becoming attached emotionally and physically to someone I don’t even know? It’s bogus, and I never asked for any of this shit.
She’s asleep now, breathing softly, making small noises. I watch her a while, wondering if this was meant to happen. Was she meant to land here and pop into my life? Was she meant to hear my thoughts, feel my emotions, read me like a book? It’s hard for many to get a read on me, but Willow does it with ease. It’s as if this Tether was created for us to be soulmates, but I can’t help feeling like that’s impossible for me. She’s nothing like me, and there’s no love left within me to give.
I’m a fucked-up man with fucked-up urges, and she’s this delicate thing who would have no idea what to do with me. It’s not fair to her, to me, but by morning, we’ll be able to move again. We’ll find Beatrix, we’ll get that chant memorized, and it’s back to her world she goes.
With the thoughts running rampant in my brain, I stand and make my way to the door. Before I go, I glance back and watch Willow’s chest rise and sink as she sleeps soundly. Truthfully, I feel bad for her. Being stuck here, in a place as awful as Vakeeli. The woman is terrified to be here. I have to find out more about this Tether.
Fortunately, Whisper Grove has one of the largest libraries, and it’s a short walk from the inn. I leave the room, close the door behind me, and walk down the hallway. As I pass the bar, I spot Alexi behind it, wiping down the counters. No one else is around.
“Going out?” he calls.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, already walking out the front door. I don’t know what it is about him that I hate…well, I take that back. I do know. It’s that he had his hands on Willow. I can’t figure out why it angers me that he held her, but it does, so fuck him.
I walk along the cobblestone street, passing lit lanterns and horses tied to poles, until I spot the library ahead. It stands tall between the village hall and a bakery. A brown three-story building, half of it swathed in thick, green vines. There are two balconies, both laced with vines as well. A gold glow emits from the upper window. I used to call it the candle that burns forever because, no matter the time we visited, it was always burning. No one is probably in there; it’s nearing midnight. Fortunately this library never closes.
I remember it as a child—the late hours wandering through Whisper Grove with my mother. She was a night owl. She didn’t like going out much during the day. She’d bring me here to study, because to her, reading was essential. And not only that, but Whisper Grove also had the finest literature. A lot of the books go back centuries upon centuries. She’d find a book for me (normally about something she wanted me to learn, like the names of flowers, or the types of clouds), plop me down in a corner, and tell me to read. Then she’d find her own books and read for hours, scribbling notes like mad in one of the leatherbound notebooks she carried. I never knew what she was writing in those books, but it always seemed urgent. That is until the day she burned every single one of them. That was a week before I never saw her again. Clearly those journals had information inside them that she didn’t want anyone figuring out.
I brush the memory away as I grip the handle of the library door and pull it open. As soon as I’m inside, I’m greeted with the scent of aged books and cinnamon. Candles in sconces line the walls, and what looks like infinite rows of shelves are ahead, overflowing with books. I pass the front counter, which is vacant, a white sign perched on top of it with the word CLOSED, and move through one of the shelves. I pass fiction, non-fiction, Greek mythology, and textbooks for math until I spot the section I need.
Vakeeli History.
It's the largest section of the library, a circle of bookcases surrounding sunken-in leather sofas, wooden chairs, and desks. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it, so I spark a bloom, pick up a pillar candle, and make my way to the first shelf.
There are books on certain wars and battles, the battle of Luxor and Kessel, for instance, and the four-year war between Blackwater and Ripple Hills. Ripple lost, of course.