Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

25.2 Library

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Darcell asks. I freeze, halfway back to the racks to return the baton.

"I guess?" I reply.

"You had the chance, once, to ask me any question." He starts carefully.

I reach the wall, sliding the baton back into its slot. I keep my eyes on the wall as he continues.

"And yet you asked a question I couldn't answer."

I catch up with him then, turning carefully back to face the room.

"In the hedge paths," I whisper. Weeks ago, I'd asked him if anyone could be enthralled by touch instead of eye contact. He'd seemed a sinister, mysterious character at that point. Well, he's still mysterious.

"I don't suppose you ever found an answer?" He asks and looks up suddenly, catching my eye. My heart jumps into my chest, but I shake off his gaze without threat of enthralment. Darcell's not Finley, I remind myself. Darcell's lips part again briefly but he says no more. Had he been about to ask about Finley again?

"No." I rub my knuckles along my arm, nervous at his line of questioning. "Questions like that just tend to get more complicated the more time passes..."

A grimace chases across his face, crinkling his prettiness for a second, and I wonder if I've said too much. We're not real friends yet, after all. You can't lie about fundamental things like ideals and still be friends. Finley and I might be complicated but at least he understands my need to escape the Huntsmen.

"I don't suppose you still want to know the answer?" Darcell hedges, ducking to collect his blade.

I chuckle, "Yeah I wish I did." I shrug. It's not going to be that easy, though. I'd helped Amy search the academy's library this afternoon and we'd found nothing for it.

"Well," Darcell says, finality ringing in his tone as he slides the sword back into its place. "I have something to show you then."

He dances back to the stone steps and I tail him up the staircase, fascinated. Just one fluttering lamp lights the tower and its cache of weapons leading us up to the library. We step from the tower into the scent of paper and books.

The library is a labyrinth of stained glass windows and dark polished wood. Feyflies in fluttering lamps whisper my name as I pass but Darcell doesn't seem to notice. He leads me to a small alcove with several low couches and a coffee table. He reaches between the shelves for a stack of books and papers.

My heart sinks as I recognise the book on top.

"Fairytales?" I ask, disappointed. I'd expected something more exciting, like secret council documents. Not the same old book about the Seven.

"Hey, these are densely packed historical works," Darcell admonishes softly. He holds the book open on the table with one hand as he slides the lamp closer. The gold light rolls up the skin of his arms and face, giving them a gentle glow.

I roll my eyes and step forward until I can rest my fingertips on the table's wood. From here I begin to hear the feyflies whispers again.

"Nada, Nada, Nada," their tinny chorus cries, almost below the level of hearing. I glare at them, tipping the lamp on its side so I can see the tips of their wings brushing the glass. They still and quieten. Thank god.

"They set out the main lineages of power for the Huntsmen who emigrated here. It's very important." Darcell pitches his voice even lower, to suit the newfound night-hush of the library. Can he really not hear the feyflies?

"Yes, lineages, very important." I reply sarcastically. His gaze finally flicks up to me, a smirk twitching his lips. It's only then that I realise how close I've moved whilst fiddling with the lamp, and I get a sense of his body inside my personal space.