Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I stall, tracing the fine embossing on the cover. The depth of the grooves is somewhat uneven under my fingers, as if the decoration had been added by hand rather than by utilizing a machine. “You mean… those are by Kyran’s mother?” I ask before I can catch myself, but Sabine likely assumes I’m shortening the prince’s name because of our familiarity.
“Yes, she loved to spend time around beasts. Found them fascinating, you see. It was her downfall,” Sabine adds with a brief glance at Count Flapula’s satchel.
“Oh, but not by… bats, right?” I ask, giving Flap’s massive, innocent eyes a nervous glance.
“No. She tried to capture a despair to study it. Sadly, she ended up bitten by several of them and there was no saving her. But what is life without striving for knowledge, hm?”
I think about Reiner, who has been living a long and happy life avoiding danger at all cost, and I can’t make up my mind on which option is better, so I just nod.
“Make sure your hands are clean as you handle the notes, and absolutely no drinks at the desks.”
“Of course. I’ll be very careful, thank you.”
We chat some more about electricity, which is a concept that seems especially interesting to both Sabine and her brother, but I’m eventually alone with the handwritten tome and hurry to the nearby desk. I sit in a clam-shaped armchair and stuff my left hand into the satchel, then smile when Flap nuzzles it before resting his head in my palm.
I open the notes without ceremony, but the sight of the even, precise handwriting makes me stall on the title page signed by the Lordess Isabeu Nightweed. I don’t know what I expected from the tome, but as I browse through the pages, I find everything from descriptions of the bats’ habitat, their full scientific name being Verspersal Lepus, to diagrams of dissections, and the setup of a typical colony. There’s drawings of the bats at various stages of their development. The young are fluffier and grow up to look more like hares with bat wings, elongated feet, and long claws with which they hold on to rocks.
It reads almost like poetry, and I find myself sinking deeper into a world full of personal anecdotes, sketches featuring favorite bats, playful names the Lordess gave them, and details about their favorite foods. But as interesting as the notes are, my mind halts when I find the mention of a familiar name.
It’s small, scribbled on the margin next to a drawing of a bat not much younger than the one in my satchel.
Should I bring one to Kyran? He’d be less alone. More research needed to see if it’s safe.
I stare at the note and read it several times, but it definitely discusses Kyran, not Kyranis.
My heart beats faster when I think of his childhood self stuck alone in that shadow palace and only allowed out when it was convenient for the rest of the family. Was he able to make any friends at all? Would he be let out to play instead of his brother, or would his parents be too worried that their embarrassing secret might come out?
Did he have no one to talk to? My mother was a terrible parent, but she was around at least, and I could always count on other people for company. The nice neighbor living two houses down the street would even make me lunch sometimes, when I grew a bit too thin, but who did Kyran have?
I grow determined to learn more. This here is definite proof of the truth behind what he’s told me so far. It would be nice to believe people at face value, but in my experience, sincerity is hard to come by. I was burned too many times. As long as I can confirm this though, maybe I could… trust him.
Just the thought of it makes me nervous, but I don’t have time to self-psychoanalyze, because a long red nail taps the very top of the folder in my hands.
I look up to spot a stunning elven woman reminiscent of Morticia Adams in her tight-fitting black dress with a low neckline. She smiles at me with blood-red lips.
“Luke Moor? The future Dark Companion of our prince? His promised? I am Marquise Coralis.”
Chapter 25
Luke
She’s almost too beautiful to be real, and while I’ve never had any interest in women, her grace and confidence are intimidating.
“Good… day,” I mutter as my gaze darts to the waning moon outside. I wonder if I could ever get used to the constant darkness in this realm, if I choose to stay, but I then remind myself there are more important things to focus on right now. Like the fact that she speaks to me as if I’m expected to know who she is.