Page 43 of Myths and Manuscripts
Was he though? I hadn’t seen anything to support that so far, but he was committed to his duty that was for sure. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fine, but come back the moment it gets dangerous.”
“Yes, my Lady.” Dain bowed low before taking his leave.
Inkheart’s feather danced as it wrote.
What an over-eager puppy. I bet he really does start an invasion. All to give you everything you desire. Love triangle time?
I rolled my eyes. “No. If anything, he loves the Demon Lord.”
You’re so right. How did I not call that from day one?
Speaking of the Demon Lord, I pulled over the writing board he’d given me to communicate. He’d want to know what just happened, but how did I even go about explaining it? Sorry your demon buddy just did a crazy thing and might start a war because of a silly comment I made? No, that would cause a panic and possibly rush him away from Gran too fast.
We need to talk. I’ll be in the castle’s library waiting for you, no rush.
Chapter 17
Demon Lord
The castle’s library looked like a tornado had hit it with papers strewn across every surface, some balled up while others were full of Willow’s handwritten notes. Inkheart was collapsed on the table, it’s feather drooping like it was exhausted. I moved through the library carefully so I didn’t step on any pages and noticed Willow sleeping on the floor by the fireplace.
Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and ink smudged her fingers, with a bit under her eyes too, like she’d been rubbing them a lot. Even more papers surrounded her in carefully stacked piles like she’d been organizing them before she fell asleep. She might have said no to writing my book at first, but she sure seemed committed now. Her Gran had nothing to worry about there.
I wish she’d fallen asleep on the couch instead of the floor though, especially after all those comments about my own uncomfortable sleeping habits. I reached for a blanket, pulling it up over her shoulders. She murmured something that I couldn’t make out and curled up under the blanket, almost brushing against my hand.
My heartbeat quickened, and for some reason, I sat next to her. The easy rise and fall of her chest calmed me as the warmth from the fireplace settled against my skin. The castle had neverfelt this comfortable before and I owed it all to her.
I picked up a few of the pages she’d been working so hard on. The ones farthest from her had even and steady handwriting, perfectly formed like she’d been taking her time, but on the pages closest to her the handwriting curled and looped like she was racing to keep up with her thoughts. I ran a finger over the words, feeling her excitement shining through with each pen stroke.
All her notes were about me and my story. She’d written far more than I’d expected, filling up so many pages with ideas. My eyes widened as I read the wordsanti-heroandprotectorwritten over and over with mentions of me saving the demons by defeating some hidden bad guy.
She must have been more tired than I thought, because none of that made any sense. I flipped through more of her notes, searching for the real ideas in all her wild sleep-deprived ramblings, but there was nothing. No hint of my glorious demise anywhere.
I dropped the papers, my gaze landing on a group of pictures pinned on the shelves. They were suspects with motives listed for why they’d be manipulating the hero. I stood up, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, surprised a picture of me wasn’t hanging anywhere. Instead there were headshots of the priest, the King, the Princess, the old hero, and so many other potential bad guys.
“Does she really think it’s not me?” I muttered, staring at those pictures even harder, unable to comprehend what they might mean. “I’m the villain...”
The sounds of Willow shifting pulled my attention as her eyes fluttered open. “Hey, you.”
Her voice was thick with sleep still and her hair was messy, just like when she’d woken up on the couch yesterday. Seeing her like that made it feel like we were sharing a moment and mychest ached for something I knew I couldn’t have, something I didn’t even want to name.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and then jerked into a sitting position. “Wait, you weren’t supposed to see those yet.”
“Oh, sorry.” I moved away from the pictures hung on the bookshelves and awkwardly sat on the couch. “I don’t understand what you’re thinking though. I’m the bad guy, so wasting time on whatever that is just seems silly.”
“Maybe.” She toyed with the frayed edges of the blanket, curling it around her fingers. After a while, she took a deep breath and lifted her head to meet my gaze. “Or maybe it’s not silly at all and the only ridiculous thing is you thinking that you’re evil. I mean, let’s face it, you’re a terrible villain.” She held her hands up before I could protest. “No, let me get this out first. You care way more than you let on and you always try to help people, even if you do it with a grumpy attitude. Like when I was worried about my last book and you offered to read it. Or when you didn’t execute Dain and ordered him to be my bodyguard instead. Or when you promised that seamstress that you’d protect everyone no matter what.”
“That was just–”
She shook her head. “No, it started even before that when the town thought the library was haunted. You could have hurt people to keep them away, but you chose to scare them instead with some shadow monsters. You always choose the less evil route, and I think we need to accept that.”
“Accept...that I’m a terrible villain?” A lump formed in my stomach. I’d always felt like a fake, but now that she was agreeing with me, it was so much worse. Because it wasn’t just in my head anymore, it was in hers too, and she was the last person I wanted to be thinking that. “No, you were supposed to help me live up to my potential, remember? To make me into the best villain anyone had ever seen.”
“But what if you’re meant for something different?” Her voice was soft as she stood up and joined me on the couch. She reached out for me, but then pulled back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be forcing my ideas on you. I just feel like you’re better than you give yourself credit for. Every time I tried to brainstorm you as the villain, something felt off. I spent hours wracking my brain and couldn’t figure out a single idea I liked. Not until Dain suggested that you were the hero of the story. Once that clicked into place, it’s like my mind was overflowing with good ideas.”
“Ah, so this was Dain’s fault then?” I shook my head, gripping the couch tight. “Remind me to punish him later.”
Willow sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep brainstorming ideas for you being the big bad instead.”
