Gereon
in a bed for the first time in nearly two weeks, but despite the soft, luxuriously comfortable mattress, nightmares plagued her dreams. In her dream, Pyrros was arguing with Nerida, and she was screaming back, her eyes red like fire, until suddenly Ever appeared on the scene, shooting Pyrros with an arrow. Pyrros fell with a loud cry and landed on a plate, and Ever grinned, holding out his hand to Moira, boasting about the dinner he had prepared.
“Oh, the irony, that I end up as your dinner when I didn’t eat you.” Pyrros gazed up at her with innocent yellow eyes, and Moira looked helplessly at Nerida, who wore a blank expression and sat in a chair further down the long table, her fins tucked neatly under the chair.
“He deserves it.” Nerida shrugged, an evil grin on her face.
“No.” Moira jerked awake, panting heavily. She got out of bed with a pounding heart and drew back the curtains. The morning sun dazzled her.
A butler knocked on the door a few minutes later, and after she had dressed—in a new green dress this time—he showed her to the terrace where breakfast awaited. The overstess and her husband were nearly finished. Moira was ashamed of how long she had slept, but they did not appear bothered by it.
Ever poured tea for her. “Bacon? Eggs?” He gestured to the food.
Moira’s stomach growled, as though dinner from the previous night had made her used to regular food again. “Yes, please.”
He bestowed an amused smile on her. Did human women have small appetites?
“Would you like to see the city after breakfast?” Ever wiped his fingers with a napkin, having finished a sweet, fluffy bun dusted in sugar.
She chewed the bacon and eggs, swallowing as quickly as she could. “I’d like that very much.”
The city simmered with life the second they set foot outside the gates. She felt tiny and confused among all the people. They were larger than her, with broader shoulders and heavier gaits, their skin much paler and heads covered in colors ranging from white to dark brown like Ever’s, none black like hers.
He took her hand, pulled her with him. “Come on, there’s no danger. I promise I won’t let anyone rob you.” He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but beam. He did not let go of her hand.
They had been walking around the city all day when he asked if she missed the forest.
“I miss my friends there.”
“What friends are there in the woods?” he asked, with a surprised laugh. “I’ve never met anyone to be friends with there.”
“That’s probably because you shoot first and ask later.” Moira was uncertain about what she thought of his hobby.
“If I’d done the opposite, I wouldn’t be alive today. I don’t understand how you can be alive if you live in the forest, but don’t enjoy hunting.”
“I have friends out there.” A stroke of longing, a string of worry. Were Pyrros and Nerida still arguing? “They protect me.”
“There are dangerous things too. Beasts with sharp teeth and claws, and some of them have wings, too.” Ever made a face and scratched his neck with one hand. “Not to mention all those out there who know magic.” His face darkened for a split second before he smiled again at Moira.
“I’ve heard of a mountain witch. She seems unpleasant,” Moira said carefully with a smile and said no more, afraid of revealing too much.
“A mountain witch?” Ever tilted his head. “Do you mean Samara? In Nocny mountains? Likes talking backward and repeating herself twelve times over?”
Moira stared at him. Was there only one mountain witch, or did Ever know several of them? She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I don’t know. It’s not like I looked her up. She seems dangerous.”
“If you don’t know how to deal with her, she is definitely dangerous. I wouldn’t go there empty-handed—that would be stupid.” Ever smiled. “She and I can usually come to an agreement. When dealing with my kind of goods, only a limited number of buyers exist.”
Moira must have been unsuccessful at keeping the disapproval off her face, because he chuckled. “She’s not the worst out there. I promise bigger baddies than her exist. People with real power.”
As night fell, they had dinner together, Moira and Ever with the overster and overstess. The butter-fried asparagus melted on Moira’s tongue, and she wondered if the food the humans served was better than what they had in Aurora or if she had always taken it for granted before she fell.
“You two look like you’ve had a nice day together.” The overstess looked at them with an approving expression.
“I showed her the city.” Ever smiled at Moira and warmth spread inside her. The flowers he bought for her were in a vase in her bedroom.
“Young people, why do you always have to run around?” the overster sniffed. “Read a book, educate yourself. What’s wrong with that?”
Ever narrowed his eyes. “Just because we have three libraries in a single house doesn’t make books more interesting. Books are for people who are too afraid of experiencing things for themselves.”
“Ever, that wasn’t—” the overstess tried to break in, but the overster interrupted her.
“Without books, we are no better than stone trolls and centaurs.”
A grim shadow flickered across Ever’s face, and he stared at his plate. Moira assumed this was not the first time they had had this discussion. She wondered if she should refrain from getting involved, but a book was, after all, the only reason she was in Gereon.
“What books do you have here?” She turned her attention to the overster and did her best to keep her dislike off her face—he was intolerable. Should he not be proud of his worldly son?
Ever stabbed the fork into a potato so hard it looked like he wanted to murder it.
“The question you ought to ask is what we don’t have in our libraries.” The overster’s pride crossed the line into smugness, and the princess in Moira longed to put him in his place. He may be a member of the highest families in Gereon, but her station was still above his. She bit the inside of her cheek and kept quiet.
“The great masterpieces, of course.” He rambled on. “First editions, if they exist. I’d say our libraries are the finest in the entire city, possibly one of the finest in the civilized world. Not that many others seem to appreciate the written word—did you know there are entire races that can’t read?”
Getting the overster to speak was apparently no more complicated than asking about books, and he continued listing the treasures of his libraries, all tangled up in not-so-subtle insults to other folks.
“Do you have anything in the library about magic?” Moira broke in, and he shot her a disgusted glance. She almost expected him to ignore the question, but he sneered.
“Had it been up to me, we wouldn’t. Such nonsense.”
“Now it just so happens magic can be quite useful,” Ever chimed in, as if amused to be given a chance to argue with his father. “And since it exists, it’s a good idea to know about it, even if we can’t do any of it.”
“Has it helped anyone in this household?” the overster asked, in a tone that made it clear what the answer was.
“It’s not like your other books help either.” Ever glared at his father.
“Modern medicine is much more likely to work than chanting silly spells.”
“Marcas,” said the overstess, a begging tone to her voice.
The overster turned to his wife. “Your son believes in fairytales.”
“Marcas—”
“At least I’m out there looking for a solution,” Ever said.
“You’re looking for a happily ever after that doesn’t exist.” The overster sneered.
“And you’re not looking at all!”
Moira tried to understand what they were talking about, but it was not her place to ask, and she did not want their attention turned to her.
A maid entered the dining room to clear off the plates and everyone, except Moira, ignored her. Ever’s cheeks were red with fury, while the overster looked down his nose as though Ever smelled bad, and the overstess exuded an air of tiredness, too used to the two men fighting.
The overster ignored Ever’s words. “Well, some books about that drivel are in the Small Library. That is where such literature belongs, if it can be called literature at all.”
“Would anyone be interested in dessert?” The overstess’ voice was shriller than usual. “I’ve been told that the chef has outdone himself with a divine chocolate creation, and it will be served with vanilla ice cream and strawberries from the garden. Doesn’t that sound delicious?”
Her gaze flitted between Ever, who stared with blazing eyes into the wall beyond the overster, and the overster, who folded his napkin. Neither of them responded, but they did not continue to quarrel either.
When the dessert had been served and eaten—mostly in silence, despite the overstess’ efforts—Ever escorted Moira back to her bedroom.
“Sorry for that. Let’s just say it’s not the first time we—well, dad and I disagree on a lot of things.”
She smiled, an expression she had gotten used to when she was around him. “Don’t worry about it. Families fight. It’s part of the deal. Mother and I had a big fight just before the storm.”
It felt good, revealing a tiny bit of truth among all the lies she had woven.
Once they arrived at the door, he turned to her and beamed. “Well, we should be able to behave when we have guests visiting, especially guests as special as you.” He took her hand and pressed a featherlight kiss onto it. “Good night.”
“Good night.” She fumbled for the handle, opened the door, and stepped inside, all while his gaze rested on her. Her heart throbbed faster, wanting to escape its prison.
She finally closed the door.