Page 97 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
I’m about to turn on my heel to leave, when his head quickly snaps around to face me. His warm, dark eyes are painted with joyful surprise when he finds me at the end of a long row of shelves, heart pounding, eyes wide, and mouth parted with no words coming out.
“Sorry,” I barely manage to choke. I turn to run, forgetting entirely my magical abilities to simply disappear and land where I wish in my crushing panic.
“Ellya.” My name on Alec’s whispered voice is a plea, a prayer, the warmth of it brushing against my retreating back. “Wait.”
The desperation in his tone gives me pause; my neck swivels slowly to meet his eyes again. The same panic I wear is mirrored in his face, only for a different reason. We stand, unspeaking, our stares connecting across the space between us. My mouth doesn’t work, nor does my voice. I can’t find any words to say or work my muscles to keep from gaping at him silently.
Alec schools his expression, his palpable longing disappearing in an instant. He repeats more gently, “Wait.” He glances at the bookin my arms and chuckles, his sudden ease cutting the momentary tension into something less…alive. “I am assuming we are here for the same reason.”
A harsh, painfully audible swallow is my only response.
Alec continues, shifting to face me fully, leaning against the smooth surface of a shelf partition. He holds up his hand, showing me a small notebook bound in dark blue leather. Alec pops it open, scans his eyes down the page, and then snaps it closed, offering it to me in a swift motion.
“What’s this?” I ask, my voice hushed. My heart beats in my throat, making it difficult to breathe.
“It seems I forgot an important accompaniment or two in my haste to deliver your books.” Alec offers me a small smirk, the corner of one eye crinkling.
My hand reaches out to take the book, our fingertips barely grazing, a zap of both peace and fire racing through my spine.
Alec subtly wets his lips, his smile widening as I accept the book.
“It is a book of annotations. Though not a full translation, it gives some clarity to the core stories told.” He indicates his head towards the large book that I clutch against my chest like a shield.
My arm loosens, and I tilt the book to glance down at the words printed across its front. “What language is this?” My voice is slightly choked. I cough, attempting to dispel the emotions clouding me.
“The old language of the gods. Ancient Rayveesh.”
Raising a brow at him, I ask incredulously, “You keep a record of annotations for myths written in the language of the gods in the palace library?”
Alec gives me a wide smile, showing me his straight white teeth. “No, I do not.” He then turns back to the shelf he was previouslyleaning on, scanning the titles on the spines. He pulls one from where it rests, smiling down at it. “I came here to find this.” Alec nods his head, and I follow its direction, towards a colorful couch and matching plush chairs tucked in an alcove. “May I show you?”
We turn back to each other, his stare piercing through me with endless hopefulness.
Glancing at the book he plucked from the shelf, I’m met with an image of a white tree with flowing branches stamped across its front.
The willowbane tree.
Swallowing my nerves, I give a shallow nod, my hair brushing against the small of my back. Alec pushes his lips together, trying to hide his gleeful smile at my acceptance before leading me to the seating area. I plant myself on the couch, its velvet cushion sinking slightly under my weight. Alec nearly sits next to me, but his brows draw in before he thinks better of it and instead takes a chair to my right.
Watching him get comfortable, I wait for his elaboration on why he wanted to give me this particular book—whatever information it may hold, true or false. Alec reaches a hand into his pocket and produces his silver case, his deft fingers pluck out a black cigarette and place it between his lips. He’s preparing to strike a match when I suddenly scowl at him.
Without thought, I reach out and snatch the spicy smelling onyx cylinder from his mouth, tossing it across the room. It lands somewhere out of sight with the lightesttapagainst the floor.
Alec looks at me, brows raised and hands still poised to strike a match. “You told me you were unbothered.”
He hastily hides the matches and cigarettes back into his pocket. It’s now that I notice he’s dressed for comfort, his black shirtvoid of buttons or embellishments; his cotton pants are loose and casual, starkly different from the leathers or more formal attire I can recall seeing him in recently.
Something about the sight has heat creeping across my chest.
Clearing my throat and shaking away my thoughts, I say, “You can’t smoke in here.”
Alec glances around, a soft amused smile crossing his face. “Can I not?”
“No!”
His grin spreads further at my indignation. “It is my library.” He cocks an arrogant, dark brow at me.
Giving him a scolding stare, I cross my arms over the navy fabric covering my chest. “I’m sure smoking does not do good things for books. How old and priceless are some of these pieces?” Alec opens his mouth to defend himself, a playful gleam in his dark chocolate eyes. Before he can speak, I continue, my head held high. “Besides, it’s a fire hazard.”
