Page 18 of Straw and Gold (A Realm of Revelry #2)

Morella

For the second week of our marriage, Killian and I spent most of our days apart, as seemed to be normal for us.

He carried on with business in the mornings, and I spent time spinning straw and visiting the weavers who were in awe of what I brought them each day.

I received his lessons each night along with his kiss goodnight—each one not much more than a simple peck on the lips.

I threw off how tired I was, rationing my thistle nuts as best I could, and finally sat down to write to my family.

Dearest Korven, Seraphine, and little Avici,

I miss you all! I have been married for two weeks now, and my new husband and I are adjusting to each other. The castle is beautiful and large—complete with four standing towers and an underground library I have yet to visit.

Everyone has been so kind and welcoming, and I think it will just take some time for me to really find my place here.

Korven, please reply with a detailed explanation of how in the fuck I am part Changelingfae. Did you even know?

I miss all three of you.

All my love,

Morella

P.S. thistle nuts

I folded the letter and placed it into the thick brown envelope, sealing it with gold wax and a stamp depicting a fat mushroom. I reached into my pocket for another thistle nut, chewing absentmindedly as Alista knocked and entered our room.

“Please send this off, Alista.”

She nodded, taking the letter. “Anything else, my queen? Our washing maids have almost all of that blue ointment out of your gowns and they should finish today.” She eyed my open trunk which spilled with the rest of my clothes. “Would you like me to unpack this for you?”

“No, thank you. I’d like to spend the morning getting to that myself.”

She nodded and took my breakfast tray, frowning. “Do you not enjoy fuilhe, Queen Morella?”

I pulled a gown from my trunk, checking for stains and eyeing the black circle of meat left on my tray. “I’m afraid I do not.”

She tsked her tongue. “It is good for you. Good for the blood and good for future children in the womb.”

I choked on my spit, hacking into my arm. “Alista, there’s no child—I mean, there’s no chance of—Because we haven’t?—”

She cleared her throat, eyeing the two separate beds in the room. “I see.”

Embarrassed, I continued my work, pulling out the endless jars and setting each one onto the shelf of my wardrobe, including the jar of tea that would prevent a child for an entire month.

Alista bowed quietly and left while I huffed, wondering if it mattered at all that I’d already taken the tea the night before my wedding.

I shook my head. Either Killian would treat me as his wife in time or he wouldn’t at all. For now, I had a job to do and that was discovering his true name and saving my sister.

I stacked a few more jars and hung the three gowns I had left—one yellow, one red, and one blue.

The gown I wore was a deep green, the color of a dark pine in winter.

I popped another thistle nut into my mouth and took a deep breath.

My wings felt heavy at my back and my eyes threatened to droop with exhaustion.

I finished unpacking and knocked on Killian’s study door.

“You may enter if you can ask to enter in Céaduah,” he called.

A smirk threatened on my lips as I leaned in. “Am faodre mi dub a stuh?”

“Enter,” he replied.

I stepped through to see him writing in a ledger.

The window behind his desk was open to the waning summer air and the bustle of castle life could be heard in distant voices.

I clasped my hands behind my back and perused the bookshelves, tilting my head and munching on thistle nuts as I read each title.

The Art of Wool

A Detailed History of Shepherding

Wool Carding and Combing

That book I tugged from its placement and opened to the middle, scanning the hand-drawn diagrams and reading the captions.

“Do you read often?”

His voice came sudden and deep and I jumped slightly, choking on a nut. I turned to him, closing the book. “Not nearly as often as Seraphine, so I don’t know what ‘often’ means to any one person.”

He stopped his writing and looked up to meet my eyes with his. “Let me rephrase. Do you enjoy reading, Morella?”

I’d enjoy reading to him . I’d enjoy reading near him, under him, over him—“ Stop it, ” I muttered under my breath.

“What?”

“I do.” I snapped the book shut, shelving it quickly.

His gaze flicked over my dress, my braided hair, and my wings which had shifted outward at my last thoughts.

Returning to his ledger, he instructed, “You’ll find fresh straw in the stables for your task this morning.”

I huffed, slumping into the chair in front of his desk, popping another nut from my pocket and chewing slowly. “How am I to get the straw up to the tower?”

“Can you not shift with it? I imagine a raven could easily fit through the tower window and my understanding is that Ravenfae shift with whatever they carry or wear.”

“Can you shift through wood like other Forestfae?” I asked, crossing my legs and adjusting my wings.

“Yes,” he grumbled, continuing his work.

“Can you shift with things? Heavy things?”

“Yes, Morella.”

“Is that how you got my bed and wardrobe into our room so easily? You’re quite strong. I bet you could maneuver both on your own.”

“Your assessment of my strength is cor—what are you eating?” He finally looked my way again as I nibbled on another nut absentmindedly.

I swallowed my mouthful. “They’re thistle nuts. I eat them throughout the day.” I pulled one from my pocket, holding it out in an offering. “Would you like one? They only grow in the Brackish Wood that I know of.”

Reaching across the desk and taking the nut from my outstretched hand, he eyed it in curiosity before biting off a corner.

I tossed the rest of my small handful into my mouth, enjoying the confusion on his face.

“You eat these everyday?”

Nodding, I replied, “If I don’t eat enough, I tend to succumb to exhaustion.”

He chewed the rest, eyeing me with caution.

I dusted my hands and swept crumbs from my dress. “Well,” I started, standing awkwardly, “if you need me, you know where I’ll be for the next hour or two.”

He began writing again. “I won’t need you.”

Well, fuck. Our second week was going swimmingly.

“You really don’t have to do that, you know,” I burst before I could rethink what I wanted to say.

“Do what?” he asked, barely acknowledging me.

“Dismiss me so trivially.”

He tossed his quill into the pot of ink and slammed his book shut with a thud. Rising from his chair, he darted around his desk, flexing his hands before slipping them into his pockets. He jerked his head towards the door as he passed me, with the simple instruction of, “Come.”

With the excitement of whatever this was, I followed him like a lost puppy, practically running to keep up with his heavy footfall across the gilded halls of our castle.

Nodding to each servant and guard we passed, he didn’t say a word, nor did he slow his pace as I huffed behind him, begging him to slow down.

He had at least ten inches on me and his legs were long, massive things as he strode down the halls and stairwells without so much as a misplaced breath.

I lost track of our way at stairwell number six and completely bumped into his enormous back as he stopped abruptly at a door in a dark stone hall. He turned just in time to catch my wrist before I fell on my ass and embarrassed myself further.

“Count to one hundred and then follow me down these stairs.”

Frowning, I nodded as he opened the door and descended into the dark. I peeked after him and began counting in my head, but beyond the first few steps, I couldn’t see a thing.

I had the feeling I knew exactly where he was leading me, but why now, why right as I let my mouth run away with me, I couldn’t guess.

As I reached ninety-nine, I was already several steps down, following the pale golden glow that had lit up the stairs around number seventy-two.

This staircase wound around a center pillar like the western tower, and as I cautiously took each step, the light became more insistent and my heart beat in frantic curiosity.

At last, I found the last few steps and gasped in absolute awe of the true library of the castle.

Pillars of translucent golden citrine, pure and tower in shape, erupted from the cavern walls like growths of divine light.

Varying in size, each held a glow within, illuminating the books tucked into the cavern walls as far as my eyes could see.

I stepped further into the tunnel, near to tears and overcome with the glorious underground library.

Killian watched in silence as I trailed my fingers across a crystal larger than me before finding my way to a shelf carved into the walls.

“The books you’re looking for are here,” he called softly, his voice echoing in the cavern.

He gestured to a few rows of books with red leather casings.

I pulled one from the shelf and read, “Céaduah, Language of the Changelingfae, Volume four.” Meeting his eyes, I asked, “How many volumes are there?”

“Thirteen.”

Holding back a shiver, I replaced volume four, pulling volumes one and two instead.

“Follow this tunnel. There’s more you need to see.”

I did exactly as he said, shuffling through the tunnel which narrowed as I walked, still providing thousands of books in varying subjects. Some I could see were written in Céaduah and I wondered just how much history of the Changelingfae people was hidden underneath their kingdom’s castle.

I must have voiced that last part out loud, because he answered with a low grumble. “Some of these books date all the way back to Céad’s arrival on Revelry from the Veil.”

I turned to him, pressing the two books tightly to my chest. “Can I come here whenever I’d like?”

He nodded, stepping closer, the amber glow of the crystals illuminating the red of his hair and casting a golden glow over his clean-shaven face. I allowed myself to stare. He did the same as we studied each other in the soft light.

Down here, we were just two people who had met two weeks ago.

Down here, we were teacher and student.

Down here, there was no bargain or pressure on the both of us to come together in marriage. Down here it was just him. It was just me.

I stepped forward and held out my hand between us. “If we had met any other way, I would have wanted to know you.”

Something ticked in his jaw and his face hardened.

I continued, pushing out my hand further. “My name is Morella. It’s nice to meet you, Killian.”

He laughed, relaxing his shoulders and slid his hand in mine. “Morella,” he spoke in a low voice, smooth as silk. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”