Page 48 of Sonnets and Serpents
She found she couldn’t watch another minute of him seated calmly at a table, taking notes with all the leisure in the world while her legs physicallyachedto start the next search. So she dove into the shelves, searching for a book of her own. It was foolish; she couldn’t hope for a book titledExact Directions on Solving Your Problems. Had it existed, it would have already been checked out, with a waiting list made up of everyone else in the world.
Her body halted as if an invisible hand had grabbed her wrist. She glared down at her bracelet.
“Forgot, didn’t you?” Silas called out from the table, sounding entirely too smug. He was certainly a snake, because only a creature with an eye in the side of his head could have been watching her while keeping his nose in his book.
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I found what I was looking for.”
She snatched a book off the shelf and brought it to his table. She examined the blue linen cover before carefully opening the pages. The illustrations were breathtaking, but, of course, she couldn’t read a word.
This had been a stupid idea. Just like all her others.
With a curious gleam in his eyes, Silas shifted in his chair, peering over the table at her chosen book. Then he laughed.
“What’s funny?” Eliza asked crossly.
“You’re not missing anything.”
“You’ve read every book in the library, have you?”
“Nearly.”
Half of her wanted to throw the book at his head. The other half went ahead and recklessly said, “Well, I don’t need an interpretation. I can tell this story just from the pictures.”
“Oh, do tell.”
She couldn’t discern if he was mocking or challenging. Either way, she snapped the book open to the first illustration and threw herself into the story with dedication.
“In a far distant land”—all her favorite stories began “In a far distant land”—“a group of pixies danced beneath the moon.”
“Well, you have the beginning correct,” Silas said, writing as he spoke.
“Don’t interrupt me. I’m reading.” Eliza turned to the next illustration. “A pair of humans stumbled into the pixies’ revelry. ‘Terribly sorry!’ they said. The pixies, of course, forgave the honest mistake and invited the beautiful couple to dance along with them.”
Silas scoffed, but Eliza ignored him, flipping to the next vivid painting.
“The revelry was so great that they danced all night and fell asleep by morning. The woman woke alone, and she panicked, unable to find her beloved. She begged every pixie for help, asking if they’d seen him.”
Eliza swallowed heavily, regretting the direction her mind had taken the story, although there wasn’t much else she could have said for the illustration of the lonely, crying woman. She almost closed the book.
But if she stopped now, the lovers would remain separated, so she continued. “Together, they all scoured the forest.”
After glancing at the next illustration, she swept past it, but Silas’s voice halted her.
“You skipped one.”
Since she’d been caught, she forced herself to incorporate the strange donkey on the page. “Then the woman met ... an enchanted donkey? He said he knew where to find her beloved. She was so overwhelmed by gratitude, she cried, thanking the kind donkey.”
Smiling, Eliza turned to the next illustration. “She ran with haste to the meadow he’d told her about, where she found her beloved, wandering in a daze. The lovers were reunited once more, never to be parted again.”
Just as a story should end,she thought. Her fingers trembled slightly at the edge of the page.
Then Silas said, “There’s one more.” He didn’t even glance up as he spoke, too busy reading lines in his own book and making notes.
“How do you know this?” she grumbled.
Eliza turned to the final illustration, and stared.
“Um ... the donkey watched from afar,” she finally said. “He was overwhelmed with joyful tears for the couple’s reunion and pleased he was able to help it happen.”
