Page 23 of Unraveled (A Kingdom of Beasts and Ruins #1)

My heart might leap out of my chest at any moment as I take in a magical library that could rival the one in Penumbra.

Rich, dark green bookcases extend up three stories high.

There must be hundreds of thousands of books in here.

So many tomes bound with leather I wouldn’t be able to read them in my lifetime. And their scent is like coming home.

I step into the room, twirling around, my arms clasped against my chest. My cheeks hurt as I smile and take everything in.

“What do you think?” I hear Ash beside me, and I nod, taking in the beautiful landscape painted on the ceiling.

“It’s breathtaking.”

These grimoires are all magical, like the ones forbidden back home. I feel it deep within my bones as their aged parchment sings to me.

“How did you realize you were missing grimoires when you have this many?” I ask, and the moment I meet his gaze, I realize he’s staring at me with an emotion I can’t place. Or perhaps I’m too scared to do so.

Longing—desire?

His gold eyes have turned near black by the time he shifts them away from me.

“Because I needed them.” He clears his throat and stalks forward, the long tail of his coat billowing, leaving trails of his intoxicating scent behind.

“Having so many is why they could steal them right out from under my nose. I imagine they took one at a time, and I only realized they were gone years after the curse was in place.”

If—when—I earn some semblance of freedom inside this castle, I will come here every day. I need to really start putting into practice what Ash was trying to teach me earlier, just so I can finally study magical grimoires in peace. Alone. Without having to hide.

Ash stops in front of a massive tapestry that hangs from a brass rod on the wall to the right of us. It tells a story, from the top of the scroll to the bottom. The colors were probably vibrant once upon a time but now are muted by age.

I step forward and take in every beautiful detail like a starved woman in front of a feast. Magical beings and fae riding horses, boars, and elk.

I recognize this image. I’ve seen it before in the encyclopedias we study as children.

It shows the blood moon shining behind a mess of spirits similar to Naheli.

And so many bodies sprawled everywhere. Dead humans.

It’s of a time when the fae came to our human towns to hunt for slaves.

I step past Ash and study every shape and horned beast like I’m seeing them for the first time.

“Do you know what this is, Monster?”

I tilt my head toward him, blinking rapidly before I nod. “The Wild Hunt. We are shown a reproduction of this exact image when we’re young—and we’re told to never look the fae in the eyes. My father repeated it to Irene and me the nights the moon was reddest.”

His lips quirk at the same time his brow tilts up. “Funny how you ignored every warning.”

I huff a breath and continue my inspection of the tapestry. “Perhaps you should have warned me what you were before I bound us to each other, since you apparently didn’t want a human tied to you.”

“Should I have screamed the warning when you were attacking me with your spells? Or perhaps when your friends were shooting at me?”

I don’t turn to look at him, instead I gesture vaguely at the tapestry. When I realize there are two familiar faces in the chaos, I freeze.

Ash is riding a black elk. His eyes are so gold, they shimmer with the candlelight around us. Beside him, running next to his mount, is the wolf that was sleeping in my bed this morning. The air lodges in my throat, and I must have stopped breathing.

“This was the day I met Naheli,” he says. “And the last time I took part in the Hunt.”

A sudden heaviness expands inside my stomach as I face him.

Ash barely glances my way before turning abruptly away from me. “Wait here,” he says, storming past a statue nestled between two bookcases and up a narrow staircase that leads him to the second story of shelves.

Now alone in the darkness of the bottom floor, I step forward to get a better look at the grimoires closest to me. Their imprint of magic sings the loudest, and my fingers ache to flip the pages and learn ancient things.

The room is exquisitely decorated. The door moldings are of fine-carved wood depicting flowers and leaves, stained deep forest green. Tapestries hang from the few walls that aren’t covered in books, and busts of fae stand on tall pedestals.

I walk by those with special care, studying each face like it might attack me at any moment. I even try my best to sense traces of magic from them, like I do with the grimoires. But these aren’t lunargyres, they’re simple marble sculptures. Unmoving and unalive.

This might be the only place in the castle without roses, and I wonder— A flash of white to my right makes me pause. Inside a dark alcove, a statue shifts slightly with a rumbling snarl.

My heart leaps into my throat and I jump back, screaming as I grab a grimoire from the bookcase next to me and throw it at the lunargyre with all my strength. The book hisses in response, followed by a little screech of offense as it hits the beast’s head with a thump.

“Ouch,” Nera says, her nose scrunched. Her rose-colored eyes blink rapidly before she smiles, mischievous and showing her very sharp teeth. “You were so afraid.”

Adrenaline makes my hands shake as the same energy I felt back in Ash’s studio rushes through my body, hot and demanding to be unleashed.

I hear the flapping of wings right before an enormous shadow descends from the second floor and Ash lands in a crouch.

His eyes are severe, like he’s readying himself for a fight. Then he meets his sister’s gaze and eases. “Nera, don’t you have better things to do than terrorize the human?”

“No, I truly don’t.” Her laughter is harmonious even as it is cruel. And the remnants of my fear go up in flames as anger takes over.

“I could’ve hurt you,” I storm over to collect the grimoire from where it lies on the ground. This one is not happy when I pick it up again, and it burns me as I rush to put it back where it was before. I shove my shaking hands into the pockets of my dress to hide my glowing fingertips.

Nera opens her mouth, not looking apologetic in the slightest, but Ash speaks before she can.

“She can hurt you, Nera, and if she does when trying to defend herself, it will be your own damn fault if you revert to a mindless lunargyre. She knows how to wield old spells I haven’t seen in a long time. ”

Nera tilts her head and studies me with renewed interest. “Fine. I’m sorry, Mia. I was just having a little fun. You were so cautious with the other statues, it was hard to pass up the opportunity.”

Her apology feels sincere. It’s been such a long time since anyone played with me just for fun. It feels strange, but nice.

“I would like you to read this,” Ash says, showing me the small book he holds in one hand.

“This book comes from the seelie court. We have a few of their tomes. A handful of fae on our continent can understand their language.” He moves to a table in the middle of the room, and we sit close enough to the windows to read without the need for candlelight.

“You are letting the human read the seelie king’s diary? I thought that belonged to me, since he’s my betrothed?”

“Wait, you’re marrying the seelie king? Aren’t you all enemies or something?” Surely I read that somewhere.

Ash says, “Enemies is a strong word?—?”

“Yes, we are. But when I was promised to him, we were on better terms.”

“You promised your sister to a fae you hate?”

Ash takes a deep breath and interlaces his fingers on the table. He levels me with a glare and nods to the forgotten book in front of me. “Read, Monster. That’s why we’re here. Not for you to judge our customs.”

“But, why would you do that?”

“Yes, brother, I’m dying to know.” Nera rests her small chin in her hands, batting her lashes rapidly.

“Don’t encourage her,” he growls. “I doubt Monster would understand, with her very limited human knowledge of how the fae work.”

“If you don’t tell her, I will. Though my account may reveal certain aspects of our nature, like fated?—?”

“I didn’t promise her to anyone,” he blurts out. An expression of genuine panic flickers over his face, there one second and gone the next. “I would never do that to her. It was written in the stars.”

“What?” I almost laugh, but the both of them look so serious, I sober immediately.

“A prophecy, Monster. Humans also have those.”

True, but I’ve never heard of one that was taken seriously before. They’re more a myth than anything else.

Ash leans back in his chair and brushes invisible fluff from the lapels of his coat. “My father promised Nera’s hand to King Aberon’s son after a soothsayer foresaw that her union with the crown prince would prevent a calamity that would destroy the seelie.”

“I wasn’t born yet, but Father saw the opportunity to strike a mutually beneficial deal,” Nera says, far too relaxed for someone who was offered around like cattle for auction.

“It was the only way he could convince the king of the seelie to ride the Wild Hunt so Ash could get his spirit companion. They don’t believe in the Hunt or the genuine connections we form with the ancient beings. ”

“That is...” awful . I’m glad the word remains inside my mouth.

Nera taps her long fingernails over the wood table, like she’s talking about the weather. “Don’t look so horrified. It won’t happen. Have you seen me? I’ll be dead before he comes to claim his bride.”

“But I thought you just said your nails will be back to normal soon, and you aren’t rabid anymore.”