Mortal Fantasy

✴｜chapter twenty

"It's so early," Stephen says into my ear, barely above a whisper. I don't fully understand as to why we are whispering, but the morning light is freshly thrown from the windows and there is a serene sort of quietude, abnormal to the palace, and my voice automatically drops in volume.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" I whisper back, looking around the corner of a corridor. It also doesn't quite occur to me as to why we are sneaking around the palace, but it makes me feel younger than I am, a little girl who doesn't have to care for the world or her fate.

"The kingdom of Kyrie, in fact," Stephen mumbles, straightening and walking past me.

"Then you should have said so," I say, stumbling over the floor to catch up to him. "Really—" I frown and reach out to grab his sleeve, but instead find his hand. The prince slows to an abrupt stop, and looks at me over his shoulder incredulously.

"Yes? "

"Must you walk so fast?" I murmur in complaint. My voice is only softened by the awkward reality of his hand in mine, and I release it as soon as he lifts a brow.

"Fifteen minutes, Ithena," Stephen says warningly, holding up a finger. "That's all I can spare. While I'm gone, you shouldn't come here, because if you bump into the queen or any nobles of the court—"

"I understand," I sigh. "I'm not a child."

"Though you act like one?" Stephen says in mock seriousness.

"This is why I'm sure I'll enjoy the library much more than my time with you, because books can't make snide remarks."

Stephen concedes with a poorly concealed smile, just touching the edge of his mouth. "Come on."

The guards outside the arch of the library entrance bow to their sovereign, though Stephen barely notices them and pulls me forward by my hand, causing me to bristle and flush all at once. This surge of emotion is short-lived and overtaken by awe as my eyes devour the room before me; massive gilded arches roofing towering shelves of literature and scriptures, row after row after row. It is paradise if I have ever seen it.

"It's all just books, really," Stephen murmurs, following my line of sight. "There used to be scholars from all the kingdoms invited to gather and compile knowledge, though the king and queen now prefer to focus on their military affairs."

"What a waste," I whisper. Books were gifts to the commonpeople of Atellyn; even the few dusty volumes I had at home, I read word for word, even children's fairy tales and lullabies. I begin moving without realizing it, turning into one of the vast rows of shelves, straining my neck to glimpse the top.

"Don't get lost," Stephen calls, a smirk carrying on his voice. I spin around to see him walk past the row, and I run to the opposite end, keeping pace with him as each shelf passes by in a mere blur. He notices and walks faster, as if to shake me, but I persist, wondering what else he knows about the library.

"Do you come here often?" I call, nearly stumbling to keep up.

Stephen makes an abrupt stop, facing me incredulously from the end of the row. "I thought you came here to read something, not pester me with questions."

"Is it so terrible that I might ask you something?" I press, beginning to move down the row as I trail my fingertips along each gilded book spine.

The prince sighs, and paces toward me. "Incredibly stubborn, as always."

I gather myself to glare, but his expression is light and devoid of worry. I realize how taut he normally is, and decide that if I can distract him for but a moment, it might offer him some reprieve from whatever seems to plague him.