Page 51 of Myths and Manuscripts
“See?” She grinned, motioning at the covers with handsome illustrations of the hero on them. “I’ve been reading about your heroic journey for years. They’re some of my favorite books.”
Favorite books, huh? She was laying it on a little thick, but his eyes were full of stars as he stared at the covers. Seriously, how was he the one winning all these battles when he was so easily thrown off course?
He picked up a book, turning it this way and that. “Hmmm, the artists did an amazing job with these. They really captured my heroic vibes and strong jawline.”
I snorted. “Aren’t you even curious why she has books about you in the first place?”
“That’s a good point!” The hero flipped through the pages, eyes moving back and forth as he read snippets. “Are you a stalker? How else would you know all these details?”
Willow glared at me then plastered a big fake smile on her face. “I’m more of a fan than a stalker. These are...” She looked up at the ceiling as if lost in thought before holding her hand up. “These are part of a biography I’m writing about you! Yeah, somebody has to document your tale, and I thought why not me?”
His mouth formed an O as he nodded. “That makes sense. My deeds are valiant and should be recorded. But this detail is astounding. How did you know what I had for breakfast each day and what I wore?”
“Oh that’s easy. I just asked a few people what things you liked and guessed from there.” She shot me a dirty look that made me oddly happy. Seeing her maneuver this situation with ease was beautiful to watch. “Sorry if it’s weird. I meant it as anhomage to your triumphs.”
“It’s not weird at all. It’s glorious!” The hero clapped her on the back. “When can we continue the story? I want to make sure you’ve got every detail you need.”
“Right now, if you want.” Willow let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing as I gathered the plates up from the table. “Let’s head to the castle library and start from the beginning.”
The hero rubbed his hands together, practically jumping with excitement. “This is going to be so much fun. I’ll just let my comrades know I’m going to be late.”
“Late?” I laughed under my breath. “Don’t you think they’ll need more than that?”
“You’re right.” The hero tapped his hand against his hip, biting his lip. “Oh! I’ve got it. I’ll tell them I’m on a secret mission and they shouldn’t come looking for me for at least three days. That should give us more than enough time. Well, maybe five days. Yes, five days should do the trick.”
I felt myself smiling even though his nonsense should be irritating me. There was just something about him that was difficult to hate, especially after reading all of his books multiple times. Any other hero would be using this time to take me down and end our story once and for all, but he was perfectly content to wait it out and help Willow first. It was weird, but it’s what made him the type of hero he was.
“Good luck,” I whispered to Willow. “If anyone can find a way to untangle all this, I’m sure it’s you.”
She smiled softly. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
Disappointment was one thing I’d never felt when I was around her. I was far too awestruck by her passion and creativity for anything else to register. Bringing the hero here might actually work out for us.
Chapter 21
Willow
The hero seemed even more excited about writing this book than I was. We’d spent the past few days holed up in the library chatting and having a wonderful time as he explained his life and all his plans to me. Armed with that knowledge, I even managed to get a few chapters written which felt like a huge success. I still didn’t know what the big plot twist was, but at least I finally had something on the page that was readable. Everything felt better with words on the page.
Thorne and Dain relaxed in the corner, a silent but steady presence day after day. They still didn’t seem to fully trust the hero, but at least they were finally chill enough to take naps, read, or stare into the fire instead of at us non-stop. That had been a very awkward first day. The hero was a very animated reader though, so it was hard to stay serious with him around. He cheered when he got to the good parts of his book, cried when something sad happened, and sometimes even jumped up like he was going to join the battle when there was a fight.
It was all so ridiculous, exactly like the hero I’d grown up reading about. Having him right here in front of me made nailing his personality even easier and the words were flowing with ease at this point.
Or they would be, if Inkheart didn’t keep leaping off the pageto taunt the hero’s holy sword every twenty minutes. The pen swirled across its notebook, writing in even fancier script than usual as it mocked Dawnbreaker, the Eternal.
The pen is mighter than the sword, I’m sorry, but it’s a fact!
“And yet, you basically just write fanfiction shipping everyone you see together.” Golden light shimmered down the blade as the metal vibrated, casting magic that turned the vibrations into words that we could all hear. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you writing about my hero with that distasteful Demon Lord. As if that would ever happen.” The sword quivered, then stood straighter. “Oh, you misspelledmightiertoo. At least insult me accurately.”
Inkheart’s feather bristled.Some of the most well-written stories are fanfiction! You think you’re so cool, all glowy and forged by the gods. But everyone knows the hero does all the work, right Sunny?
“My name is Dawnbreaker, you insufferable excuse for a pen.” The sword glowed brighter, as if trying to cleanse Inkheart of evil.
“Calm down, both of you.” I put my hands between them to stave off the inevitable bickering match. “Don’t you think this argument has gone on long enough? You’re both mighty in your own way.” I nudged Inkheart onto the page we’d been working on. “Back to writing the actual story, okay?” The sword shimmered beautifully, as if it had won something here, so I shifted it to the other side of the hero’s chair. “And you, go back to...guarding the hero or whatever it is you do.”
Inkheart huffed but continued writing where we’d left off on chapter 4. I took a deep breath, ready to move on to chapter 5, when I realized the hero hadn’t reacted at all to that whole exchange. Usually he was the first to chastise his sword for being confrontational, but this time he’d just sat there, book forgotten by his side as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain.
“Another headache?” I asked softly. “You’ve been getting those more and more lately.”
