by Josie Gold
Harken added, “It’s barbaric. Signing my life over to that cursed building.”
“Don’t talk about my lady like that,” I grinned. She laughed humorlessly, taking a drink of water.
“Water powers?” I said suddenly, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously. She choked a bit on her water.
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re behaving childishly.”
The barkeep dropped off our drinks. Harken smiled at him politely and thanked him.
Huh. She never smiles at me. I glared at the barkeep as he walked away.
We clinked our shot glasses together.
“Why do you care about my magic?” she asked after finishing her drink. I thought for a moment.
“Magic is the greatest thing. Ever. In this world,” I could hear myself slurring, making little sense. But my words were earnest.
Harken rolled her eyes.
“It really isn’t.”
I frowned, a sound of disbelief escaping my mouth.
“I would give anything to be a mage,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm. She pulled away sharply.
“Being a prince isn’t enough? Having people at your beck and call isn’t enough?” she snapped, disgust lining her voice, “having everything you could possibly need or want—”
“I don’t have everything I want,” I interrupted, all merriment gone from my voice.
“You are privileged enough to have everything you could possibly need,” she scoffed, “and yet you want more? Why not give back?”
Stung, and too drunk to laugh it off, I snapped back “And you? A job, a home, a community? How selfish you are, sabotaging your calling.”
Suddenly Harken’s face was inches from mine, her face contorted in fury. Her eyes looked like melted gold. Liquid and hot.
“My calling?” she echoed, her voice quiet and glacial, “I never asked for this. I never wanted magic, or to be a Librarian.”
“If I had what you have—”
“If I had what you have, I wouldn’t be wasting my life drinking and partying. I wouldn’t be known as the Useless Prince,” she said viciously.
I leaned away from her, rocked back as if she had hit me. Ah, my other court name.
The Miracle Prince to some. The Useless Prince to others.
She stood. Gods, she looked like a primordial being of wrath, with her red cheeks and churning eyes.
“Grow up,” she said and turned to leave. I remained rooted in my seat for a moment, then scrambled after her. I grabbed sloppily at her shoulder.
“Harken—”
She whirled, her palms outstretched, face placid. Eyes ablaze.
One moment, I was standing next to her. The next moment, I was flung across the bar. I landed on my back, crashing into tables and chairs. The music squealed to a halt and patrons screamed.
But my eyes were on Harken as she continued to send a blast of magical wind toward me.
HARKEN
I had attacked the Prince.
I hurried out of the bar, breathing hard.
Sneering and snapping at him was one thing. Smashing his tea against a wall was one thing.
But using magic against the Prince, even the third in line, could land me in handcuffs.
As I stumbled back to the Library, all I could see was Mother’s face. Disappointment. Never anger. No, unlike me, Mother never simmered or raged. She just felt deeply, deeply disappointed.
I tried to banish Mother’s face, as I maneuvered around people on the busy streets.
I hated the Royal City.
I hated the Library and my magic.
I hated the stupid tears in my eyes.
“Harken!” a voice called behind me, out of breath and earnest. I picked up my pace, refusing to let him see my red-rimmed eyes.
“Please,” Fennion panted, “please let me apologize.”
I stopped abruptly.
Fennion caught up to me. His face was truly contrite. I lifted my chin stubbornly, meeting his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he searched my face.
Then, in a crowd of people, he took my hand and brought it to his mouth. And softly, so softly, pressed his lips to the inside of my wrist. I gasped.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked intimately, his lips still pressed against my skin. I inhaled deeply.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I tried to sound measured.
His lips curved upwards. For a brief moment, I felt the thrill of his teeth grazing my skin, and then he let me go. He stood and leaned close, his breath fanning my ear and cheek.
“Wind mage,” he whispered hoarsely. He looked impressed. I hated him for it.
When I returned to my dorm, Telsey was there to give me a lecture. I didn’t listen. I lay on my bed and touched the skin on my wrist. It felt prickly and warm.
I didn’t sleep well that night. And when I did, I dreamed of Librarian robes discarded in the rows of books and phantom voices trying to speak to me.
FENNION
Later that night, I lay in my bed in the palace. If I slept, I knew I would dream of Yenlon. But sleep beckoned behind my eyes, cloying and convincing.
My last thought before sleep was of the way Harken tasted on my lips. Wild and heady, like the gust of cold wind that brings in a thunderstorm.
4
HARKEN
The fifth day of the week was the only day I behaved myself. I finished my duties and attended lessons with Torra.
After lessons, I searched the Library, plucking at books that looked interesting. I focused on adventure books, on heroes and dragons. I took my collection of books to the front desk and waited impatiently for Sollah to sign them out for me.
The first time I tried to take a book from the Library, I didn’t bother to sign it out. The moment I stepped out of the Library, a crashing sound erupted in my skull. My ears had bled and the books had disappeared from my hands.
After that, I started taking the books out properly.
Sollah glanced over the titles, then she flicked her eyes up to me.
“You ever gonna tell me what you do with these?” she demanded.
“That’s none of your business,” I said simply. Frost flickered across her desk as she puckered her lips sourly. But she signed them out for me.
At the center of the Royal City, there was a small, green park. The park was covered in perfectly groomed green grass, a spattering of skinny, depressed-looking trees, and a few benches. Autumn had just started turning the air crisp and so the leaves on the trees were green edged with scarlet. In the middle of the park was a huge boulder.
It was at the boulder that I met the children. Five of them were already there, climbing on the boulder. They fidgeted and bothered each other, but the moment they saw me, they were still and polite.
“Missus Kenza!” one of them yelled. A little boy, seven summers at most, was the loudest and bravest. He ran over to me. Arla was a favorite of mine, despite his loud voice and persistently dirty face.
“Go join the others,” I told him sternly, but I patted his blonde head gently. Arla clambered back up the rock to join the other children. I spread out my Librarian robes on the grass in front of the boulder and sat down.
“Good afternoon,” I said to the children.
“Afternoon!” they chorused back at me.
“And who’s here today?” All of them stuck their arms in the air eagerly. “Remember, one at a time.”
One by one, the children introduced themselves, and in many ways, they were all the same. All of them were commoner children living in the poorest houses. Their clothing was second-hand and tattered, their hair dirty, bellies and eyes hungry. More children joined us after a while. I knew most of them, but there were some new faces. Word of mouth must have brought them here.
I held up three books. I explained their plots and said we would have a vote.
“There will be no complaining or crying if the book
you wanted isn’t picked,” I reminded them sternly.
They voted. Mirra’s Miracles was picked and only a few of the children had wobbly mouths and wet eyes.
“Who wants to help me read first?”
I discovered early on during my time as a Librarian that children were not allowed in the Library. The reasons ranged from that it was too dangerous for children, to that the books were too precious for scummy little children's hands.
I was enraged. So, two months ago I decided to do something about it. Every fifth day of the week, I took out a few books and read to commoner children. At first, it was only Arla and I reading together. After a while, he started bringing friends. It was hard for commoner children to take time out of their busy days to read. They were expected to take care of siblings or work, but somehow Arla and the other children made it to our weekly meetings.
When I first started, most of the children couldn’t read. They didn’t have the time or money to go to school. But now, most of them could stutter out a sentence or two.
The truth was, I was never good at anything. I didn’t excel in school, like my older brother. I didn’t know how to charm people with a dance or a smile, like my little sister. I was one of those people that didn’t seem to have a calling or a purpose.
But, I liked to help others learn.
After the children left (Arla last of course), I gathered up my robes and the books.
“Sollah will never believe me,” I heard from behind me. I stiffened, then looked slowly over my shoulder.
Telsey stood close by, standing in the shade of one of the park trees.
“Were you watching me?” I asked sharply.
“Only for a little while,” she held up her hands. She made her way over to me. Rage kept me rooted. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears.
Telsey looked at the books clutched against my heaving chest. She shook her head, bewildered.
“I never would have guessed,” she said, and then she did the worst thing she could have done. She smiled at me, big and stupid. Like we had something in common. Like she finally understood me.
I turned my back on her. I could feel my magic howling in my chest. Telsey followed me.
“Please don’t be embarrassed,” she begged, “I think it’s really lovely.”
I could taste the wind, feral and ice-cold, on my tongue. I quickened my pace, but she simply matched it, continuing to search my face. I forced my features into blandness. But she had seen past that. She had seen me smiling at Arla and now...
She thought I was a good person.
—smoke wafting, fire reaching her hair—
I turned on Telsey, body arcing with malice, teeth bared aggressively. She stepped back, frightened by my abrupt change.
“Get. Away. From. Me,” I growled. She looked me over, my panting chest, my wild expression. A smaller, slightly pitying version of her expectant smile came over her face.
She said gently, “You don’t need to keep pretending.”
“Pretending?” my voice was breathy and disdainful.
“That you don’t care about anything.”
I stared at her for a moment, seething. But then my eyes caught her fingers twisting at her necklace nervously. I willed my features to straighten, my body to relax. My lips twisted into a haughty, barely interested smile.
“Poor orphaned Telsey,” I crooned, eyeing her up and down, “so eager for everyone to love her.”
I leaned toward her, so close we shared the same air, and she shrank away.
“No one loved you as a child, did they? Is that why you’re like this? Incessantly, stupidly grateful? Pathetically desperate to be needed.”
Telsey’s face crumpled. I leaned away, my eyes narrowed in disgust.
“No one needs you,” I said matter-of-factly. “The Library doesn’t need you. I certainly don’t need you.”
Then, I turned on my heel and refused to look back at her. When I felt I had gained enough distance between us, I stopped walking and leaned against a nearby wall. My stomach felt hot and sticky.
Telsey’s face—
It was for the best. Now she would leave me alone. Now she knew I couldn’t be a friend to her.
I walked back to the Library, returned the books, and went to my room. I couldn’t sleep, anxious about Telsey returning to the room. Having to see her face.
But the mage-lights dimmed and Telsey still didn’t return.
I was dozing when I felt something. A change in the air. Something pushing at my back. As if urging me to go somewhere. That feeling sent me lurching out of bed. I threw on my coat and ran blindly out of my room.
The Library was dark and the lights were blinking wildly. Something sounded in my mind, like a scream or a wail.
Go!
I obeyed in a blind terror, pushed by an invisible force. I stumbled downstairs through the rows and the shelves.
“Hello?” I called out, voice thin and childlike.
I was led down more stairs and suddenly I knew where I was being led to. The Forbidden Section. Something twisted, hard and cold, in my gut.
I found myself chanting out loud, “No, no, no.”
On staggering legs, I came to the top of the stairs that led down to the Forbidden Section. I could see something at the bottom of the stairs. A heap of what looked like clothing.
“No,” I whimpered.
But that feeling, like someone prodding my shoulders, urged me to take the steps one by one. The dark seemed to swallow me. Finally, I made it to the bottom and crouched down in front of the heap. A single, dim mage-light provided weak, milky light. Even though I already knew what I would find, I moved the robes out of the way.
I staggered back, pressing both of my hands hard against my face. My nails dug into my cheeks.
It was a Librarian. Or it once was. Their dried-up skin had a sticky sheen, like old fruit. Limbs sprawled out in unnatural directions, bones showed through the rotted skin. And the face. Nearly inhuman and filled with an ancient kind of terror. Unrecognizable.
Except for the necklace it wore. A diamond, surrounded by a star.
I moaned and scuttled away from the body. I was about to start screaming for help when I saw what Telsey was clutching in her skeletal hands.
A book. A book bound in a strange, pale leather with savage and dark stitches. I touched the book, then recoiled. I knew where this book came from. It was a Forbidden Book.
I heard footsteps coming my way, so I tucked the book away in my coat.
FENNION
I was reading a new book when I felt that same wailing again. Like a woman inside my head, banging at my skull.
Instantly I was out of my seat and careening through the Library.
It was the same feeling I got when Yenlon—
I urged my legs to run faster, sweat pouring down my face.
“Hello!” I yelled, “is anybody—”
“Down here.”
I stopped abruptly, nearly falling. I turned toward the steps that led down to the Forbidden Section.
I felt something skitter down my spine.
“Here,” the voice said again.
“Harken?” I uttered hoarsely.
I approached the steps and hesitated, before peering down them. First, I saw Harken sitting on the fourth step, holding her knees close to her chest. Her braid was snarled, her golden eyes closed. Her skin looked more sickly than usual. My eyes kept moving down the stairs.
A body lay there, bundled in robes. Desiccated and ruined.
“It’s Telsey,” Harken remarked almost casually, but her voice was high-pitched and fragile.
I inhaled sharply, but it was like I couldn’t get air into my lungs. I tried again. It felt like I was drowning. Slowly, I sank to the ground.
For a moment, we were both silent. My eyes darted everywhere, but kept returning to the body. To my friend. At that thought, I felt some strength return to my limbs. I breathed in deeply to clear my head.
“We need to tell
the Head Librarian,” I said gruffly. Harken didn’t appear to hear me.
“Harken,” I said louder, authoritatively, “we need to tell—”
“You go,” she said, opening her eyes, cat-like in the dark, “I’ll stay here with her.”
I was about to argue, but she closed her eyes again. How terrible, that it took something like this for Harken Kenza to appear human.
I reached out and touched her shoulder.
“Alright,” I said kindly, “you stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I stood on shaking legs and started toward the Head Librarian’s office. Behind me, I thought I could hear someone speaking faintly. Maybe singing. But I couldn’t be sure.
“Two Librarians are dead!” I hollered, hearing myself become hysterical.
I was in Queen Cheyla’s room. I was very rarely allowed in the Queen’s room. This time, though, I didn’t take no for an answer. I stood above her as she worked on paperwork at her marble desk.
My mother sighed, still not looking up from whatever letter she was reading.
“The authorities—” she began, but I interrupted her.
“The authorities are useless,” I spat, “they think it’s a draugr.”
“Well, is it?” she hummed. I imagined myself sweeping all the papers and pens off the desk and demanding that she look at me.
“These were targeted attacks,” I explained slowly, “both Librarians were killed in the same way. One was the Assistant to the Head Librarian! We need to know why. And who. We should be using all our resources—”
“All of our resources,” she said, finally looking at me, “are being used to keep our shores safe from Vestian attacks.”
“But you said—”
“Don’t be naive, Fennion,” she reprimanded. The words rolled through my mind.