It sounds bad, but I want to drill her about that. I want to ask her what she thought of what happened, if it sounded normal, or if I really rocked Death’s world. I want my little ego stroked, so I know to keep going. But I manage to keep that to myself.
Instead, I give her the rest of my food and a sip of coffee and get ready for the day. I put on a white empire-waisted gown and bring my hair up high above my head, while Bell reminds me that the full moon is three nights from now. Now that I can leave the room and I know where the Stargaze Tower is, I’m pretty sure her escape plan will go off without a hitch.
Mine, however? That’s still a work in progress.
Raila comes by later for my little tour. I don’t know how crafty she really is, but I don’t underestimate her either. Who knows how long she’s been around, who her alliances are really with, and what she really thinks of me? Because of all the unknowns, I have to tread lightly.
So, where would you like to go? Raila asks as we step outside of my room, black satin hands clasped at her waist.
“How about the Library of the Veils,” I suggest.
There’s a pause, as I knew there would be. I’m afraid that area is off-limits, she says.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Death did say I could go anywhere.”
Anywhere you’re allowed, she says. I have been given strict orders not to allow you, nor anyone, into the Library of the Veils.
“Anyone?” I repeat.
It is forbidden.
“Why?”
There is magic in there that could overthrow the Master and upturn the whole realm, possibly even all the realms as we know them.
That much power in the Book of Runes, I ponder. If I could get that book one day, I could change so many things. I wouldn’t even bother with Death or Tuonela, I would just make it so that I could be back with my father, back in the real world, and that nothing from this world, nor any malicious shaman, could hurt either of us. I know I have to die one day, and I must admit there’s some comfort in knowing I’ll most likely be put in the Golden Mean instead of the nebulous question mark, but I want to postpone my death as much as possible.
But that’s not why I’ve called upon Raila today. The Book of Runes is just a shiny distraction.
“Well, that’s understandable,” I tell Raila. “Why don’t you give me a tour of Shadow’s End, from the top to the bottom then. Wherever I’m allowed to go.”
I will do my best, she says.
And so I take another tour of the castle, this time with Raila’s commentary.
This is the solar room, she says as she takes me into a large room with floor to ceiling windows. Aside from the iron framework, it’s pretty much a solarium and right now, with the sun trying to burn through the clouds, it’s bright and hot.
Usually Death is in here having his morning coffee, she says. But he isn’t a fan of the sun, even when it’s his own doing.
I take my time looking around. It really is an incredible room with a three-sixty view of the area. Though the mist hasn’t completely cleared, it’s enough that I can make out the craggy mountain ranges to the north, the sea to the south. From here it really feels like you’re on top of the world and ruler of the kingdom.
But it isn’t the view that has my curiosity piqued. It’s the details in the room, each one telling me something about its daily inhabitant.
There’s a black leather chair and footstool with an iron side table beside it, a stack of books underneath. I can just imagine Death sitting there, his coffee beside him, his feet up, book in hand, while the land stretches out beyond the windows. The image delights me for some reason and I crouch down, taking a look at his current TBR pile: The Art of War, The Great Gatsby, Of Mice and Men, In Cold Blood, The Holy Bible, and Lord of the Rings.
My brow quirks up. “Lord of the Rings?”
The Master is a very prolific reader, Raila says, watching me. Have you read it?
I smile. “Yes, I have.”
He says Tolkien got some things right about Tuonela, like Kokko, the giant eagle, but he failed to capture the intricacies of the land, Raila explains.
I nod and look around the rest of the room. There’s a wine rack, a stocked bar that has crystal decanters that sparkle like diamonds, housing jewel-colored liquids in amber, crimson, emerald, and amethyst. Then there are a few bottles of Scotch and even tequila thrown in there, obviously smuggled from my world, plus an array of glassware and iron-welded vessels.
“I have to ask, what’s with all the iron?” I gesture to all the iron details in the room, which is nothing compared to the rest of the castle. I mean even his dog is made of iron.