Chapter 193 A rare collection.

Chapter 193 A rare collection.

ADRIANA
"Stop fretting."
I took a deep breath, resting against the wall comfortably. "You’re going to eat from two plates?" I asked, trying to replace fear with humor. It wasn’t so hard; it was a core subject in the discipline of princesses.
"It’s yours."
"I see. Two plates it is." I turned and walked back to the sitting room. Relief flooded through me, but also uncertainty. Had I been overthinking the stiffness? Was my mind playing tricks on me?
I couldn’t tell.
"Have a taste and tell me if I’m a good cook," he challenged.
The food looked good, but my stomach churned. Would it hurt to eat it?
"I’d rather not. I’m full."
To my surprise, he didn’t argue. Instead, he borrowed my words: "Two plates it is."
I settled into my armchair and looked out the window to avoid watching him eat. My eyes settled on his shelves of books. "Are these teaching materials, or are you a big reader yourself?" I stood up and approached the shelves. The books were stacked neatly. At first glance, they seemed to be in no particular order, but as I observed them carefully, I realized they were grouped by language.
"I’m a collector," he confessed. "I pride myself on reading, but the true beauty is collecting rare books—first editions, only editions," he boasted.
That would mean he possessed knowledge that many weren’t privy to.
"So, you’re telling me that among these books, there are a few that I would find nowhere else in the world?"
He nodded.
"How about this?" He began—he was done with the first plate—"You pick out one book, one very rare book, and if it has fewer than three copies in existence, I’ll tell you what it’s about," he dared.
"What if I want to read it myself?" I asked.
"I doubt if you can. Even if I let you, I can bet you wouldn’t understand the language it’s written in."
Ego was a bastard; it ate people from the inside and made it hard for them to see what was in front of them.
"Deal. I’ll pick a rare book, and you’ll tell me what it’s about."
I took my time observing the books. Having searched half of the royal library didn’t give me any edge, because there were only two books I recognized from the whole shelf, and one of those was in our royal treasury. I had no idea what it was about, but I kept it in the back of my mind to check.
The shelves held six languages in total. I could read four, there was one I’d never seen, and another that gave me a very hard time, so I couldn’t read more than basic lines.
The whole thing seemed like a puzzle.
The language I didn’t know might be something trivial from a part of the world that was none of my business; the languages I knew might contain irrelevant information.
Then I recalled the language the letter Cody found had been written in. It was the plain ancient language, but that letter was proof that the North spoke that language—or maybe they just wrote what they were sure the recipient could understand.
I wanted to scream.
The sound of Alan dropping his plate echoed through the air. He was done with the second plate. "Overthinking is the thief of time," he announced.
I wrinkled my nose. "Isn’t procrastination the thief of time?"
"Looks like time is susceptible to lots of thieves," he shrugged without explanation.
It was getting dark.
"That one!" I finally made my decision.
The choice was random, apart from the fact that it was written in the ancient language. The cover was brown and it looked old. Very old.
I met Alan’s eyes, but I couldn’t understand what I saw in them.
"Choose another book," he ordered.
"We had a deal!" I fired back.
I had no idea what the book held, but his denial made me desperate.
"It has nothing that would interest you," he scoffed.
"Let me be the judge of that," I returned.
"I’ll give you a minute to think about it. I’m giving you a choice: you can pick another book, and if it pleases me, I might let you go home with it."
I looked out the window. "I don’t want a friend who is not a man of his word."
"You’re the one in my home," he said harshly.
I nodded. "I guess you’re right. Goodbye." I wondered if I would run into Jared if I walked around town.
Then it occurred to me that Jared might still be at the palace, or might have even come to check on me in my room and not found me. What if he searched my room and found Eve’s clothes?
I opened the door, ready to take my leave.
"Fine," he let out the word like a curse. "It’s a story. I’ll tell you the next time you come."
I nodded. Without words, I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
There was no telling what awaited me at the palace.