Chapter 102: Our World Would End
Troy
Maeve was sleeping soundly beside me, Will and Charlie nestled in her arms. Oliver was asleep on my bare chest, his mouth moving in a suckling motion as he slept. I rested my hand over his back, closing my eyes for a moment. Oli seemed to melt into me, succumbing to full sleep as the minutes ticked by.
It was not very late, but getting all three boys to sleep was an exhausting undertaking. It was not uncommon that one, or both of us, fell asleep with the boys while we fumbled through their bedtime routine.
I waited a few minutes longer before slowly rising from the bed, careful not to wake any of my sleeping family mem bers. I patted Oli softly on the back while I crossed the room to where their bed was, which was just a twin-sized mattress. with a railing all the way around it, like an oversized crib.
Rowan and I had built it only a few days ago, shortly after the gala. We found that the triplets slept better in the same bed, and I understood why. They had been together since the moment of conception. Who were we to separate them when all they had known was each other?
One by one I carried the boys to bed, laying them down next to each other. Will turned to his side and snuggled into Oli, their tiny noises touching, while Charlie sprawled out in the shape of a starfish, his tiny fingers splayed as he dreamed.
They were beautiful. I didn’t know it was capable of loving something so deeply, while also being terrified of that some thing at the same time.
Who would they become? And what would life be like for them when they were my age? I had made a promise when the High Priestess placed the crown of Poldesse on my head that I would help shape a world worthy of not only my sons but my grandchildren, and so on and so forth. That burden, even in its infancy, felt almost impossible to bear.
I left their crib and walked to Maeve’s side of the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and tucking them around her. I wasn’t afraid of waking her up. I could beat on a drum next to her head and she wouldn’t even stir. She slept through the stirrings of the boys as well, and because my sleep was of ten paper-thin, I was the one awake in the dead of night when the boys woke up, and I didn’t mind it at all.
Rocking them back to sleep in the rocking chair near the window made me feel as though I was back on the Perse phone, slowly lulled to sleep by the soft pitch of the boat.
I knew I had at least an hour or so to myself now that ev eryone was asleep.
I could’ve slid into bed beside Maeve, but I was wide awake. I decided to go down to the library and sit beneath the mural for a moment and enjoy the solitude.
But I found myself sharing that solitude with Ethan.
Three days had passed since the gala. Three days of try ing to convince Ethan that Hayden wasn’t a threat, just a menace. Three days, and no word of Tasia’s whereabouts or plans.
We had been busy, however, with the boys and making plans for the future. Maeve and I would need to leave for Poldesse, and soon, to start our new life. But Maeve was re fusing to leave on the grounds that the moonstone business was unfinished, and I agreed with her.
But for now, we all felt entirely stuck in place, not sure of what to do next, and what to expect.
Ethan was sitting near the hearth, an untouched glass of fine scotch sitting on the side table as he looked down at a letter in his hands. He hadn’t noticed me come in, so I walked loudly across the stone floor, trying not to scare him as I came into the light of the hearth.
I had pulled on a cozy knit sweater and socks before com ing down to the library to fight the wet chill in the air and was thankful to find that Ethan had already created a warm, cozy space within the confines of the massive library.
“I was wondering if I’d see you tonight,” he said as he closed his book and leaned back in his chair, looking thought ful.
“What am I in trouble for this time?” I sank into the couch and chuckled to myself, remembering the night Maeve and I had spent here after the social, when I had been beaten to a pulp.
I felt my cheeks go red as I remembered the second night we had spent in the library, which had been a lot less inno cent, and tried to hide my blush before Ethan saw.
I wondered briefly if now was the time I was going to get punished for allowing Hayden to get away. So far, Ethan had only been angry he hadn’t had a chance to talk to the man
himself.
“I have something for you. Here-” Ethan reached into the pocket of the thick cardigan-like sweater he was wearing and tossed me a package. It was small, wrapped in brown paper, with a note scribbled in an illegible scrawl.
“It’s Charles’ journal. From the tomb. I had a guy in Mirage separate the pages. It took him a while, but he got it done, says it’s still in good shape.”
“Did he… read any of it?” I said stupidly, knowing full well Ethan wouldn’t have just given the journal to anyone.
“No. I paid him triple to keep his mouth shut in the event he saw something he shouldn’t have.” Ethan settled back in his seat, opening his book again.
Ethan seemed uninterested in speaking further. I leaned against the couch cushions and quietly unwrapped the paper, looking down at the three-hundred-year-old journal with in
terest.
I had read snippets of it, mostly the end that detailed Charles’ journey through the pass and the discovery of the tomb. The beginning of the journal was frayed and the pages had been stuck together, too fragile for me to pull apart.
But now the entire journal was readable, the man who had repaired had sewn a new spine. I could now flip through it in its entirety with ease but still needed to be careful not to tear the fragile paper.
I read it from the beginning at first but found it mostly about his family life. Skipping forward, I began to unravel the story of how Charles ended up on such a quest to begin with,
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Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder
Yeah sorry full of crap clichés skipping chapters...
Really oh fn....off another weak heroine roll, her pack hated her, she was abused, why would she do this .... pfghhj off at another cliche novel. .... Nope...