Within These Tangled Tales

Chapter Fifty-Three

—Rynbelle, Namera, Velara—

With a sigh, Avalas placed the useless book upon the steadily growing pile next to him. His chair, even less comfortable than those that had been in the library above, was surrounded in high, neatly arranged stacks that obscured his view from the rest of the secret library. It was just as well. He didn't want to see how many books were left. Together with Altara, Beharie, Dara, and Master Nytra, they had been poring over the tomes day and night in an effort to find something useful to their friends.

He wouldn't say they hadn't found anything. It was impossible to not stumble over something fascinating here in these hidden archives. But they were not on a historical treasure hunt. The information they searched for was rather specific and required them to be diligent in their search. Whatever had led them to this archive in the first place hadn't helped them since, and Avalas was beginning to wonder if their effort would be in vain.

Stretching, Avalas mentally prepared himself to pick up the next book. But the small movement pulled on an old wound, and he hissed quietly at the discomfort. Despite Ori's best efforts, the wound hadn't fully healed because of the length of time it had festered before she tended to it. On his right side, curved down along his ribcage, it was a wound he would carry for the rest of his life, but not one he regretted. A lifetime of pain was well worth the effort.

"Does it still trouble you?" the quiet voice next to him was not unexpected. Afterall, he had spent countless days locked in here with the same people. Yet, Avalas started quietly at the sound all the same. Altara stood near the closest shelf, putting away her stack of books carefully, a sad expression on her face.

"Not at all," he lied easily with a shake of his head. "I am merely sore from sitting for so long. A soldier is unused to such things."

It appeared she didn't believe him. Her eyes turned downcast, her shoulders hunching over slightly. Turning away, her long blonde hair fell over her broad shoulders and obscured her face from view as she went back to her task. A poor lie, he knew. She was well-aware of all his injuries he had sustained during the Battle of Silver Fields and during his captivity. But each time the subject was broached, Altara got the same look in her eyes. It was not necessary for her to feel such guilt or pain. Slowly, he rose to his feet and maneuvered his way through his stacks of books to stand behind her.

"Please, stop blaming yourself," he pleaded quietly, wishing he could reach out and touch her shoulder. He imagined his touch would be unwelcome, however. "There was nothing that you could have done differently."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that," she shook her head firmly. She wouldn't turn to look at him, but she had paused, not bending to pick up another book. "I could've been better. Then, you wouldn't've had to come rescue me."

"Your Eminence..."

"You were hurt and captured because of me. Even if you don't blame me, I'll never forgive myself for what happened."

"But I'm here now, Your Eminence. You and the others rescued me, and I'm here to live another day, to help us defeat the Colossus and the Wolves and whatever else comes our way. What purpose does beating yourself up serve when no one blames you for what happened?"

"Because you..."

"I knew what I was doing, Altara," he finally reached out, his fingers curling over her shoulder, the soft fabric of her dress smoothing beneath his touch. She stiffened but didn't push him away. "You were in danger, but it wasn't more than you could handle. I knew you would be fine, but I...I couldn't bear the thought of...of..."