A Court of Chaos and Confusion - An ACOTAR Rewrite

Chapter 11

Tamlin waved his hand, and a hundred candles sprang to life. Whatever Lucien had said about magic being drained and off-kilter thanks to the blight clearly hadn't affected Tamlin as dramatically, or perhaps he'd been far more powerful to start with, if he could transform his sentries into wolves whenever he pleased. The tang of magic stung my senses but I kept my chin high despite my sweating palms as I took in the enormous, opulent library. Tomes lined each wall, and couches, desks, and rich rugs were scattered throughout the room.

I had wanted to warn my family of the sickness sweeping across Prythian that might someday soon cross the wall, but more importantly than writing a letter to the family that had told me to never return, I wanted to look again at the books, to see if I truly couldn't read the language everyone else could read, and write. I'd left the book in the study the night before.

"Do you need anything else?" Tamlin asked, and I jerked, not realizing he still stood behind me.

"No," I said, striding into the library. I couldn't think about the casual power he'd just shown – the graceful carelessness with which he'd brought so many flames to life.

I remembered the way one of the women in our old village had talked to my mother, about how her refusal to hire a governess was going to be the downfall of the three beautiful young ladies she'd been blessed with. What a shame, a waste it was that she was raising half-wild beasts. 

I walked over to the shelves where the books lay, the books I had dreamed my whole life of being able to consume, only to not be able to understand the strange symbols on the books' spines. The room started to spin as I realized I truly knew nothing of the world, nothing of earnestness, and how absolutely vulnerable that truly made me.

And Tamlin knew.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Tamlin said as our silence became too prolonged and tense. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as I reached out a hand to the shelf and, shaking, pulled a tome from the wall.

***

I took a break for dinner and to sleep but was back in the library before the dawn had fully risen. I'd found a small writing desk in a corner and gathered papers and ink. I was too overwhelmed trying to make sense of the actual written language I spoke every damn day since I was two to write the letter to my family, to warn them of the blight, of the potential danger lurking above the wall yesterday. I started my message to them, my warning, in the only written language we knew. I'd worry about how to get the letter to them once it was written; perhaps I could beg a favor of Tamlin or Lucien, although I figured they'd burn it rather than send it out.

I stuffed the half-finished letter into the desk, deciding to figure out how to send it out later, and turned back to the dark blue tome I'd been trying to study yesterday, determined to teach myself how to understand the strange symbols. 

When I felt near to ripping out my hair I sat back in my chair and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes.

With a shaking hand I did my best to copy the strange interconnecting lines that clearly made words I couldn't understand onto the page I kept beside the book. There were four more pages, stuffed in the back of the book, not knowing what I was writing but determined to master the new letters and find a pattern regardless as I rewrote the same words again and again hoping to make sense of them. Most of the shapes were malformed and barely legible, but figured I could worry about what they meant later.

I rose from the chair, needing to stretch my legs, my spine – or just to get away from that lengthy list of words I didn't know how to read and the permanent heat that now warmed my face and neck.