A Kingdom of Wrath and Ruin

chapter eight

"This is incredible," Solana breathed, her gaze roaming past rows upon rows of bookshelves and tables.

"I very much doubt that we will be found in here," the boy murmured. His voice was silky smooth, and Solana couldn't help but shiver at how rich his low tones were. "It is not every day that people go to such lengths to avoid guard patrols, only to gape at old books."

Solana tore her eyes away from the shelves, her eyebrows knitting together as she frowned at him. With a flash of embarrassment, she realised that their hands were still clasped together. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she dropped his hand as if it was on fire. The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly, but he said nothing, turning and striding to one of the shelves.

Solana took a moment to compose herself, subtly wiping her hand on her skirts. Now that she was here, she wasn't sure what to do. The boy was idly flicking through the yellowed pages of a book, encapsulated by its contents. What could she do with this mysterious boy stood in front of her, paying her no attention?

After a moment of hesitation, she slowly made her way over to another bookshelf, away from the boy. She ran a finger along the spines of the books, tipping her head to one side to read the titles. Most of them had been worn away from years of use, leaving traces of letters that had once been. A thin path followed her finger from where she was wiping the thick layer of dust from the leather binding. She had to stifle the urge to sneeze.

"I must apologise. Many of these have not been touched in many years."

Solana jumped and whirled around, her skin prickling. She found herself face to face with him, yet he seemed unbothered by her sudden movement. He ignored her discomfort, reaching out over her shoulder to point at a particular book.

"My father used to read me this as a child," he said softly, the echoes of past memories mirrored in his gaze. "It was one of my favourites. I thought I lost this years ago."

"Lost?" Solana glanced sideways at him with a slight frown. "This copy surely belongs to the palace."

The boy regarded her for a moment, two conflicting emotions battling in his wavering gaze. It was the first time that his impeccable image had cracked and, below it, she could see a youthfulness that threatened to take her breath away. Solana felt his vulnerability wash over her, letting it dissolve her defences and forcing her to drop her guard slightly. Her frown slipped off her face. He made her feel as though she would be safe with him, and she couldn't help but lean into him slightly.

He cleared his throat, looking away, and the moment was gone.

"It does," he said, a little too quickly. "I was referring to the copy I had back at home."

"What was it about?" she asked quietly, trying to cling to this new version of him that was starting to fade away. Her eyes followed his slender hand as he drew the book out of its place. Particles of dust broke apart under his touch, spiralling to the ground at their feet.

"It's a fairytale, actually," he mused, a slight hint of reverence in his voice. He gently flipped open the front cover, the pages crackling under his touch. Solana could see the scrawls of faint pencil marks on every page, drawing her eyes to underlined phrases or circled words. "One that was written centuries ago."

"It's a beautiful copy," Solana murmured, lightly brushing her fingers against an illustration of a girl in a flower garden. A silver tiara sat on her head, nestled in swathes of golden hair that seemed to be shining in the sunlight. The artist had captured her perfectly, and Solana couldn't help but stare at the array of bold colours.

The boy didn't answer, lapsing into concentration as he flicked through the pages. He was lost in his own little world, engrossed in the pages of the book.