“Yes,” I breathe, then hold up my newly tattooed wrist as if in proof. “Of course I do.”
His smile brightens more than the morning sun. “Fabulous. Then come with me.”
I follow him through the hallways as servants nod their greetings and give little bows to the prince.
“As I’m sure you’ve gathered, we’ve been cursed for twenty-five years,” Farron says, speaking quickly. “As with all curses, there is a way to break it. And I’ve dedicated every single day of the last two and a half decades to trying to do so. When the obvious solutions didn’t succeed, I took to research in an attempt to decipher deeper meanings within the curse. So, I spend a lot of time in here.” We stop before two huge double doors with opulent handles glazed in gold leaf. He runs a hand over his pointed ear. “I hope this won’t bore you.”
He pulls open the doors. And I enter the most enchanting library I’ve ever seen.
23
Rosalina
Withstaggeringsteps,Ienter the library and my heart takes flight. I spin in a circle, wanting to absorb everything. “It’s magnificent,” I breathe.
The castle’s library is filled with autumnal wonder. Trees grow inside, ablaze in reds and oranges and yellows, the leaves falling in gentle cascades to the ground. Some trunks merge into high shelves, filled with row upon row of books.
It’s the biggest library I’ve ever seen in my entire life. There are more books than my boss Richard could fucking imagine.
I let out a squeal and rush forward to stand beneath one of the stacks. There’s a ladder—a ladder!—needed to get to the very top. And it’s even got wheels. I amsogoing to be using that.
“Do you like it?” Farron asks sheepishly.
“I love it.” It’s not just the mere size of the library, but it’s opulence. The leaves rustle in the breeze as light gleams through stained-glass windows, and I can imagine how cozy it would be during a storm, hearing the rain pound against the glass. Murals decorate the walls, depicting each of the four seasons: a flower-strewn meadow filled with does and fawns, a raging ocean hitting a sandy coast, an autumn floor covered in red leaves, and a frozen lake lit by moonlight. Couches and armchairs surround a huge fireplace, and there are tables and chairs throughout.
And the books themselves… The spines are beautifully colored, from the lightest pastels to the richest royals. The lettering is exquisite, some in gold leaf, others in silver that shimmer like starlight.
The only distraction from the library’s beauty are the bundles of purple thorn bushes snaking up the stacks, creeping along the barriers, wrapping around the fall trees, and bursting through the bookshelves.
Farron stands in the middle of it all, a sweet smile upon his handsome face.
I can’t make sense of it. The few times I saw him with the other princes, he seemed cowed by their presence. Even now, there’s something a bit awkward about him. In an endearing way. How do I reconcile this man with the monster from the other night? And even if I can’t… He’s still a fae prince.
He’s still imprisoning me.
But I’m going to need his help if I have any chance of breaking the curse.
“You do much reading where you’re from?” he asks.
“I basically live in books.” My finger trails down a gold-lettered spine. “I work in a bookstore, but it’s like a fraction of the size of this place.” Turning to him, a mischievous grin appears on my face. “Hey, are there any romance books here?”
He laughs and tugs on my hand. My face heats as his warm fingers lace with mine. The floor is covered in a blanket of leaves that crunch beneath our feet as we walk. He pulls me around one of the book stacks then reaches up to grab something above us. His shirt lifts as he does so, revealing a toned stomach and a trickle of warm brown hair dipping below his pant line. A jolt of electricity runs through me.
He pulls the book down, revealing a gorgeous light blue tome. “The fae love legends of romance,” he says, and his voice is breathy. “This one is about a princess from the Spring Realm who was betrothed to a prince of Autumn.” He leans down, shoulder-to-shoulder with me so I can see the pages as he flips through. Rich notes of aged paper and ink, and a hint of orange and cinnamon linger in the air, along with the faint musk of the old book. The art is breathtaking, like an otherworldly Mucha piece. “But right before her wedding, she left the castle to ride her horse by the riverbank and came upon a carpenter who lived deep in the woods. In that moment, her mate bond awoke in her chest.”
“Her mate bond?” I repeat breathlessly.
“I don’t believe they occur in the human realm,” he says, looking at me through his dark lashes. I shake my head no. His brow creases and he looks upward, as if trying to figure out how to describe how to breathe. “A mate bond is very rare and sacred. It’s said to be the calling out of your soul for another; the melding of hearts; the quintessence of life itself.”
Farron stares at me intensely and raises a hand to my mouth. His fingers tremble over my bottom lip, down my chin, and along the curve of my throat. He lays a hand flat on my chest, cresting over the mounds of my breasts, pushed up from the tightly laced dress. I wonder if he can feel the pounding of my heart.
“It’s said you feel the mate bond here,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “Like a second heart.”
“So she lived happily ever after with her carpenter?” I whisper, if only to distract myself from Farron’s hand upon me, his warm palm rising and falling with my rapid breaths.
“Hmm?” Farron quickly pulls back and clears his throat.
“The fae princess?”