Page 89 of Esperance

Amryn and Felinus continued to place books on the shelves adjacent to each other, though after a moment of silence he said, “I think you’ve inspired me.”

She looked over at him. “How so?”

“After seeing your devotion to Zerrif, I think I need to relook at his book, as well as other histories I once dismissed as dry. While it may be true that not every person who put ink to page had a story to tell, I’d like to be the sort of person who gave their words a chance.” He eyed her. “We expect writers to give us everything, but sometimes it’s up to the reader to look a little deeper. And if you don’t . . . well, you might miss something wonderful.”

She twisted toward him. “Are you trying to tell me that I need to judge less?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “There you go, looking deeper.”

She scoffed and turned back to the shelf. “Some people don’thaveanything deeper. Sometimes, they’re exactly who you thought they were.”

“I thought we were talking about books, not people?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your metaphor was heavy-handed.”

He chuckled as he placed his last book, but when he turned to face her, he was serious. “What you have all been asked to do here . . . it is no easy task. And while I have never been good with reading people, I am adept when it comes to reading books. The best characters always have layers and flaws. It’s what makes them real. It would be a shame if we had more compassion and understanding for a fictional character than we do for those closest to us.”

Amryn slid the last book into place, not quite meeting his gaze as she said, “Fictional characters don’t have the ability to hurt us.”

“The best ones certainly do. But I’m sorry if you’ve been hurt, Amryn.”

She remained where she was, and Felinus didn’t seem in any rush to leave their sheltered spot between the towering bookshelves. Perhaps it was their isolation, but she found herself whispering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

With Carver. With the rebels. With her growing friendship with Jayveh, and even Argent.

“To live is to face the unknown. It is the joy and the challenge we all must meet. But I know you’re equal to the task.”

Amryn’s eyes stung. Felinus’s kindness, his confidence in her . . . it felt like having Rix with her, comforting her. She blinked back the moisture before tears could form. “Thank you.”

Felinus’s smile was gentle. “You are most welcome. And if you’d like, you can remain here. I can send a message to Cleric Jane.”

She shook her head. “I should return.” There were many items to put away, and she hoped Jane would let her into the archives today, so she could look for the empirical seals.

She and Felinus walked together through the shelves, and perhaps it was because of the comfortable air between them, but she dared ask, “I was reading inZerrif’s Voyage, and I came across something I didn’t understand.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Zerrif wasn’t one to describe things plainly.”

“It was just in a paragraph as he described his visit to Palar, but . . . he mentioned something called a bloodstone.”

Felinus shot her a look. “He said that?”

“Yes.” Her heart tripped at his rush of emotions. There were many, including disbelief and curiosity. But the strongest emotion surprised her: fear.

Felinus glanced around them, but of course they were still alone. Even so, he lowered his voice. “Bloodstones are a very rare bit of lore. I didn’t know Zerrif wrote of them.”

“What are they, exactly?”

The lines in his forehead deepened. “There isn’t much known about them. Younger clerics have probably never heard of them at all, and even among the older ones you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who actually believed in them. Bloodstones are mere fables.”

His reaction—that pulse of anxiety—did not feel like a mere fable.

Amryn frowned. “All fables come from somewhere. Where did the bloodstones come from?”

“Empaths.”

Her breath caught.

He tipped his head. “Exactly. Which is another reason so little is known about them.”

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