The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(58)
“If love built it, then there is a way to fix it. So what is the order?”
Lachesis’ lambent eyes shone like a beacon in the night. “My dear friend, you are truly a masterful strategist. I doubt any other supplicant could have worked through that riddle. The order is two, eight, three, and twelve. ”
The numbers meant nothing to me, but I knew Galeta would understand. I nodded my thanks. “Please give Petra those numbers too.”
“Of course, I will.”
The time had come. I’d gotten what I’d come here for. I could delay no longer. I turned and studied my male one last time, tracing the sloping lines of his face and the smooth, hard planes of his body with my eyes. I remembered the feel of callused palms holding me so close, so tenderly.
Shivering, I said, “Guard him well, Lachesis. It is all I ask. Keep him safe and let him know—”
“Do not worry, Tymanon. Your man will have no cause to ever think badly of you. So long as I live, Petra’s soul and life are safe.”
There could be no greater oath given from the goddess of the soul string.
Biting my front teeth together, I left him my mat. It wasn’t much, but it would be something to remember me by. All I took with me were my bow, my arrows, and a broken heart.
“Be brave,” I whispered to myself. Then I turned and stepped through the portal into a world more magnificent than any I’d ever seen before.
The wooden interior of the building was massive, filled with shelves upon shelves upon shelves, and full to bursting with books and tomes and yellowed parchment scrolls.
I inhaled deeply. The scent of old leather and slowly rotting paper was a balm to my weary soul, lifting me up from the pits of despair. I could be content here. Maybe never fully happy, but then, who was ever fully happy?
Flickering torchlight glowed lovingly over bound leather, and I couldn’t help but run my fingers across each and every spine, reading the titles with a rapidly beating heart.
The history of all the worlds rested on these shelves, tome after tome of knowledge, books penned by the gods themselves. I trembled, feeling the first rays of delight and joy.
My eternity would be spent in a library, in a vast network of books to keep me company. The wisdom of all things was literally at my fingertips.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the breeze, knowing Lachesis would hear me, wherever she was.
The flute Rayale had crafted for me rested within my pouch. I merely needed to pull it out and blow on it in order to find Myra. But I took my time, knowing I had nothing to fear in this place.
The Fates wished me to stay. They would not fight me on this one, though protocol would need to be followed. There was still one challenge left.
I meandered in and around the network of shelves, pulling down books that caught my fancy. The moment I held them, they vanished, but I saw the ever-growing pile of them collect on the benches beside me.
This place was magical and wonderful and my own personal brand of nirvana. I only wished Petra could see it. He would chuckle with delight at my happiness.
The moment I thought of him, I was pierced by a hollow, aching sadness that I knew would never be filled again. It would always be there, a reminder of what I’d lost, what I’d sacrificed myself for.
But I would never wish it away, either. The pain would forever be my reminder of him. So I embraced that pain as I would him, with my whole heart and soul.
But I soon got lost in the books again, wearing a soft smile on my face as I fell deeper and deeper in love with my new world.
I’d always felt like a centaur out of place, out of time, and out of step with others, never more content than when I was alone and learning. A sense of belonging swept through me here. This place had only ever been waiting for me to come home.
After what felt like hours of traipsing, I suddenly recalled why I was here and frowned. There was still one last job to do. Patting the leather-bound spines, I reached into my pouch and pulled out the flute.
Bringing it to my lips, I pulled in a deep breath and blew. A shrill sound pierced the air. The room squeezed with the press of powerful magic, and I waited for some sign of what I was supposed to do next.
I didn’t have long to wait. Where there’d only been a library with no doors, now suddenly there was a door hovering before me, independent of any walls. It was covered in thick threads of winding ivy, and the knob was an antique brass fist.
I twisted it, and instantly the door opened, revealing another world entirely—a beautiful garden of trees and bushes and colorful flower blooms the size of a man’s face.
It was nothing at all like garden of Gnósi. This place was wild and overgrown. But there was a rustic charm to it that had me feeling light-hearted and giddy. As much as I loved my books, I was also a centaur and required a certain amount of freedom, a place to run and think and commune with nature.
A golden thread like I’d followed in Time wound from the door out through thick hedges and thorny rose bushes. I followed the golden trail, stepping from one world into another. The air in the woods was lush and verdant, lifting my spirits the deeper into it I walked. I moved with ease, running my fingers across the roughened bark of tree trunks that looked hundreds of years old, massive towering monoliths that scraped the sky with hunter green fingers. A burbling brook ran alongside me, and in the distance I spied an overwhelming abundance of nesting monarch butterflies packed tightly upon a thick branch. Their wings moved in a hypnotic dance and sway, but it wasn’t them I watched, but rather the beautiful woman who lightly danced her fingers along their powdery wings.