Page 102 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

Kraeston tries to stifle a yawn behind his fist, his red rimmed eyes apparent. My own exhaustion scratches at my aching eyes, my adrenaline easing down, and with it my will to continue diving into the myths on the gems.

As Kraeston and Alec begin picking up our mess strewn through the library, one nagging question that I’ve been unable to shake slides past my lips. “If our gifts supposedly came fromless than honorable methods, why do the devout followers of the Mother not discriminate against our people? Hate us for still holding the magic supposedly stolen from their goddess?”

Kraeston sighs heavily, rolling out his shoulders before he begins stacking our books. “Because in the Mother’s love, the gifted children of the betrayers are blameless for their ancestors’ actions,” he says with mock care and affection.

Alec and Kraeston’s eyes meet briefly and they both laugh—loud and joyous as if it’s some kind of joke.

Alec takes over stacking the books we pulled from the massive library, leaving them on a wheeled cart to be reshelved. “A shallow excuse. The non gifted masses of the Mother Continent are too prideful to admit that they both need and covet our gifts. They instead stand firm on the moral high ground of the peaceful Mother’s love, clinging to her image out of need to have something of their own. A symbol can hold just as much power as magic itself.”

“I’ve always thought it was all bullshit,” Kraeston says. “Maybe it’s because I grew up listening to your father’s stories and therefore doubting everything. But it astounds me how the masses cling to their ignorance.”

It always amazes me the pretty lies people are so willing to believe simply because they’ve heard them enough.

Locane’s words from the night he told me about the gems echo in my mind. A shameful part of me wholeheartedly agrees with him.

“So then you’ve always believed the gems were real?” I ask Kraeston, standing and twisting my body to unkink my back.

“Curious, but skeptical. King Rhoyner was quite skilled at planting the seeds of doubt while passing everything off as nursery rhymes. At least in those early days.”

A shadow of heartbreak crosses Alec’s face at thoughts of his father still whole and sane, before the madness of the quest took hold, snagging Locane on the way down with him. He wipes the emotion away quickly, letting out a bitter laugh. “Indeed, he did.”

Alec turns and walks to the table of snacks, reaching for the decanter of liquor yet again. He takes a deep swig straight from the container, forgoing a glass, Kraeston watching him with something resembling concern. Before I can comment, Alec swoops down to grab the small book of translations by my foot, handing it to me. “You know how to find me if you have more questions.”

That tug in my gut pulls at me, emphasizing his words, and I struggle not to stumble forward into him, our uncompleted bond rebelling against his impending departure.

Alec gives a nod to Kraeston, endless gratitude showing in his expression before he disappears.

My body trembles as I stare blankly at the spot he was previously occupying. Throughout the evening, Alec was distant, both physically and with his words, up until he began reading from the old book, letting Kraeston act as a buffer between us.

But I caught his lingering, longing glances when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. With each of his searing gazes at my back, the light encasing my heart would pulse and flare brighter. That tether connecting us becoming steadily more insistent that I be closer to him, that I tear down the distance I continue to put between us. Each time I would swallow those urges like a ball of thorns in my throat and lean deeper into our task, trying to find distraction in the information, both things that I desperately needed.

I return to my chambers, continuing to war with myself whether I should have been there, researching with Alec at all.

CHAPTER THIRTY

ELLYA

Every morning since the night in the library, I wake to a fresh vase of flowers, a steaming cup of tea, and varying fruits and treats. All left next to a folded piece of paper with my name in slanting, elegant letters.

I never open them and destroy them the same as the note that came with my books.

Despite our more positive interaction that night, Alec has kept his distance. I haven’t seen him for nearly half a moons’ cycle, not even a passing shadow through the halls of the palace. I haven’t yet cracked into the book of myths again, terrified that when I do, more of my lingering questions will arise and that I’ll seek him out for answers again. But every day my thoughts stray to that cave, wondering if Dhystros’ emerald is still embedded in the rock.

Walking absentmindedly to the kitchen to make myself a second cup of tea, I let the numbness I’ve been desperately leaning in to guide my steps. Turning the corner with my eyes trailed to my feet, I bump into a tall woman with cropped black hair. She has kind brown eyes, dark skin the exact shade of Alec’s, and a silver stud in her nose.

Slender hands steady my shoulders as I bounce off her, being thrust back into reality.

“Shit, Elly. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to come in here,” she says, her Quinndohsi accent tilting her words. I say nothing, giving her narrowed eyes. “Of course, you don’t remember me. Cescily—your favorite sister-in-law!”

Cescily grins and then pulls me into a bone breaking hug. “I have missed you so much,” she breathes into my neck and lets me go. “You smell different. In a good way. What do you want to eat? I’ll make you something. I’m told Locane is mean in the kitchen. I’m not that good, but I can put something together. Better than Alec anyways. Remember when he tried to make us cookies and set the kitchen on fire?”

Cescily is digging through the cupboards, pulling out sugar, oats, and spices. “What am I saying? Of course, you don’t.”

I’m glued to the spot, unable to speak as I watch her fluidly move through the kitchen, talking a mile a minute.

“I don’t actually know Locane. He started losing his grip long before I was born. Shortly before Father died, Mother took advantage of one of his rare moments of lucidity and so, me! Yay! I’m only a couple years older than you.”

Cescily is prattling away while pulling out a copper pot and filling it with water. She plops it loudly on the stove and a bit of water sloshes over the side.