Unbound Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 1) (6 page)

18

Aaric

T
hey continued walking to the library. Aaric had considered taking Adaryn back home, but the library was only a couple of blocks away, and the lure of its old books and scrolls was too great a temptation. He cast sideways glance at the young woman as they walked. She looked frail and incapable of doing harm, but he knew better. Shades alive, she had almost cast magic on Kingsley of all people! Aaric frowned in thought as they trudged on. He was disturbed by Kingsley's goading Adaryn. He imagined that most people would be fairly put out by an upstart slave and want to put her in her place, but Kingsley seemed different. He wondered if the magistrate was testing
him
rather than Adaryn. It was not a comforting thought.

“Sir?” It took Aaric a moment to realize Adaryn was talking to him. He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Sir?”
he replied. “Why so polite?”

Adaryn shrugged, looking at the ground as they walked. “You mentioned a . . . while back that I should call you that in public. And I promised.”

“Oh. Right.” Aaric squirmed uncomfortably. The title didn't sound right. He much preferred Aaric.

“Why was Kingsley out?” Adaryn continued. “If he's such an important figure in society, wouldn't he be in a carriage or something when he wants to go somewhere? Why go on foot?”

“He was probably walking his slave,” Aaric said patiently. He made a mental note to start filling Adaryn in on their customs. Her ignorance was astounding, but he had no one to blame but himself. Too busy with my work, he thought guiltily.

“Walking her,” Adaryn said, a touch of disbelief in her voice. “Like a dog.”

Aaric grimaced. “Well, I wouldn't have put it that way, but yes. She needs her exercise. Though most masters in Kingsley's position wouldn't personally attend to mundane chores like those. Kingsley is unusual in that he takes . . . a special interest in his slaves and their care.”

Adaryn shivered, wrapping her arms around her thin frame. Aaric couldn't tell if it was from talk of the magistrate or the cold. He looked at her cloak. It was worn out and hardly looked warm enough for the weather. He felt a surge of annoyance at his failure to notice that before.

They turned off the main street and onto Edward Way. The library loomed before them, a massive structure of marble and granite. He glanced at Adaryn. She was staring at the library in open-mouthed wonder, her blue eyes wide with amazement. Aaric laughed at her expression.

“We're here.” He smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “Stay close to me, and don't breathe a word once inside. The Keeper doesn't hold with talking.”

Adaryn nodded in agreement and followed him so closely she stepped on his heels a couple of times. “Sorry,” she said in a muffled whisper, but her eyes shone with excitement as they crossed the threshold. They had entered Aaric's world.

19

Adaryn

T
he library was incredible. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with an impossible number of books. I didn't know which way to look as I mutely followed Aaric. He walked with purpose, moving over to a corner of the library that was empty of people. He started perusing a shelf, and after a moment, I did too.

The books and scrolls in this section of the library looked to be on animals. Aaric had found one on birds and was flipping through the pages, already absorbed in the words.

I looked through the books, idly running a hand across the spines. The air smelled of old pages. I inhaled deeply, smiling at the scent. It reminded me of the few old books my father owned. I had read those books many times.

I found a book on foxes and settled down on the floor to read. It was filled with sketches and written in a scrawl that made Aaric's handwriting look tidy. I was able to decipher most of it though and soon lost myself in the book.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped, startled at the sudden voice, but it was only Aaric, standing in front of me with a massive armload of books.

“Reading, of course.” I stood up, closed the book, and put it back on the shelf with a sigh. It was a fascinating little book. I hadn't realized how much I missed reading.

Aaric stared at me, his expression unreadable. “Slaves aren't permitted to read,” he said simply.

That was absolutely ridiculous, but I didn't say so. Instead I said, “My father taught me when I was very young.”

Aaric nodded, shifting the pile of books slightly. “Best keep that ability to yourself. It could cause more unwanted gossip.”

I gestured toward the giant stack of books he was holding, changing the subject. “I suppose you want me to carry that.” It looked heavy. I didn't relish the thought of lugging them all the way back to the house.

Aaric shrugged and almost dropped them. “No, I have it.” His reading spectacles were askew on his face now. “Though I would be much obliged if you carried my glasses for me, please.”

I grinned and took them. “Sure.” I looked at the huge stack he was carrying. “Are you sure you don't want me to carry those? People might talk,” I added.

Aaric arched an eyebrow at me as we reached a tall marble counter near the entrance of the library. “A risk we'll have to take, I fear. These are much too heavy for a woman to carry.”

A few minutes later, we began the walk back. We had spent more time in the library than I realized. It was twilight, and the lamps had already been lit.

We walked in companionable silence. I felt like something had changed in our relationship. He was still my captor, I reminded myself, but I decided that despite his failings, he was turning out to be a fairly decent individual. I smiled at him. His hair was sticking out in the back from under his cap, and he was looking decidedly tired after walking several blocks with the books. I didn't suppose he had much muscle, being cooped up in his study all the time.

“Here, let me take those,” I offered. He glared balefully at me around the stack. “I'm fine,” he said through a white puff of wintry breath. “What makes you think I need help?”

“No, no,” I said hastily. “I don't think you need help, it's just,” I cast around for inspiration, and my eyes fell on a vendor selling roasted nuts. I pointed. “I thought you could use a snack. You've gone too long without eating. Here, let me hold those.”

I took the stack from him. He let me, his attention on the vendor and his wares. Heavens above, the books
were
heavy.

Striding over to the man selling nuts, Aaric bought a small bag and shoved it into his pocket. He returned a few minutes later, holding out his arms for the books. I shook my head. “I can hold them. I'll tell you when they get too heavy. Promise.”

Aaric peered at me with narrowed eyes, holding out his arms. “Give me the books.”

I quietly cursed the man's pride and passed them over. We continued walking home. Home, I thought, startled. I had never thought of Aaric's house that way. When had that happened? But it
was
my home, after a fashion, even if I hadn't chosen it.

Aaric looked decidedly tired as we walked up the front steps. He had me retrieve the key from his pocket and unlock the front door. I pushed the door opened, and he followed me inside and into the little white kitchen.

“I'll make some dinner,” I said. Aaric nodded as he headed for the stairs. “Please bring it to my study,” he said, tromping through the hallway and up the stairs.

Dinner didn't take long to make. Since it was already after six, I put together some sandwiches with some leftover bread and meat from the day before and, after hastily eating, took a plate upstairs to Aaric, along with a glass of milk. I knew he would prefer coffee, but I decided it was time to start weaning his nighttime dependency. What the man needed was sleep.

Aaric had several of the library books opened on his desk, reading intently. I nudged one of the books ever so slightly and set the plate down on one of the table's corners. I thought about trying to balance the glass on it but decided to just hold it. I had spilled coffee on one of his scrolls once—one would have thought I scalded a baby from the fit Aaric threw.

Aaric stood up, taking the milk. He grimaced when he saw it wasn't coffee but thanked me anyway. I nodded, and turned to leave when he put a hand on my shoulder. My heart skittered at his touch. “Don't go yet.” Placing the glass on a book absentmindedly, he walked over to one of his bookcases and, after looking through it, selected a thick, worn-looking book. He handed it to me. “It's for you,” he said with a smile.

I stared. It was titled
Fables and Myths.
Fantastic beasts decorated the worn cover. The words themselves looked like they once had gold on them, but it was now worn away in most spots. I looked up at him, not believing what he said. “For . . . me?” I said breathlessly. “But I thought you said—”

Aaric held up a hand, cutting me off. “I know I said what the rules are.” He felt around in his coat and pulled out the little package of roasted nuts and handed them to me. “It can be our little secret.” He smiled.

I felt a lump in my throat, overwhelmed by his act of kindness. I stepped forward and lightly brushed his cheek with my lips. “Thank you,” I whispered, laughing at his stunned expression, then turned and retreated to the solitude of my own room, eagerly anticipating a late night of reading.

20

Adaryn

“
T
his is your father,” I said. Aaric and I were standing in the poorly lit hallway, looking at the photos hanging there. The photo showed a man who had Aaric's likeness, but where Aaric's eyes sparkled with humor, this man's eyes were cold and hard. His mouth was a firm tight line, his hair perfectly combed. I looked at the woman seated in front of him. She was a slip of a thing, well dressed, with Aaric's nose. “And this is your mother,” I said, no question in my tone.

Aaric nodded. “Yes. Baldwin and Octavia Wright. And as you probably guessed, the little brat Octavia is holding is me.”

I smiled at the little boy seated in the photo. His eyes sparkled in the picture. I moved slowly down the hall, looking at all the other pictures. I saw one of the framed photos had been ripped in half.

“What happened here?” I asked.

Aaric didn't speak for a moment, leaning against the wall. I couldn't make out his features in the dim light, but when he spoke, his voice was heavy. “That was a photo of me and my nanny. Father tore the photo when he sent her away.”

“Why did he send her away?” I asked, curious. This was the first time I'd heard of him having a nanny.

“She . . . was like you,” Aaric said. “A slave. She took care of me my entire childhood. You might say she raised me. She was the one who washed my scraped knees, cooked for me, bathed me, and told me bedtime stories. She was the one who comforted me when I had a bad dream, or when my parents . . . neglected me.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in Aaric's tone. I put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't seem to realize it was there. He stared ahead, his eyes seeing something I couldn't.

“I adored her. You might say she was both the mother and father I never had. She cared for me, too.” He laughed harshly. “Little good it did her, though.”

I listened silently as Aaric went on. “It always upset my mother that I preferred Nanny's company to hers. It wasn't proper, she'd tell me, but it didn't matter to me what was proper. I suspect she talked to my father about it though, because suddenly one day he said he was sending Nanny away. I threw a fit. I screamed at him and Mother, said that I hated them and was going with Nanny. My father started to give me a sound beating, and . . . Nanny intervened.” There was a slight tremor in Aaric's voice, and my heart constricted, aching for him. He went on. “She struck him with the magic and threw up a protective barrier of sorts around me. She ordered my father to never lay a hand on me again.”

He quit speaking and remained quiet for so long that I finally asked in a voice barely above a whisper, “What did he do?”

“First he hurt her. Shocked her with pain until her screams were hoarse, until she didn't have a voice to scream. Shades alive, I thought it would go on forever. After that? I'm not completely sure. He said he sold her to one of the factories, but he may have just killed her.” Aaric looked away from me. “It's the potential fate of a slave who attacks their master.”

“He—” I couldn't get the words out. “For protecting you?”

“She was successful.” Aaric tried to laugh, but it was weak. “My father never struck me again. I saw even less of him after that. But she paid a heavy price for her loyalty to me. Too heavy.”

“Aaric. I'm so sorry.” I didn't know what else to say. There wasn't anything else
to
say.

“After my father died, I tried to find her. I searched every factory in the city, but I couldn't find her. She was gone.” He turned away from me, signaling that the discussion was finished.

His reluctance to hurt me made perfect sense now. His attachment to his nanny—his proper mother, I thought stubbornly—must have been incredibly strong. I felt a surge of affection for the man standing next to me. I was beginning to realize that, in his own way, Aaric might be as different from the Oppressors as I was.