by Josie Gold
“So that squadron really was attacked by Vestians,” I breathed. Cheyla didn’t reply. I suddenly felt exhausted.
The Queen’s expression was sad and motherly. But I could see she wasn’t going to help me.
“She’s my friend,” my voice sounded like the whimper of a child.
“I am sorry,” she said, and I knew she meant it, “I wish there was something I could do.”
I lay in my bed, hot tears streaming down my face.
Telsey is—was—my friend.
So was Yenlon.
The Library was my home, my true home. The Librarians were practically my family.
I felt something rising inside me, hot and bright. I wiped away my tears. I was suddenly filled with energy. And purpose.
Purpose. Something I’d never had before.
I was going to save the Librarians.
HARKEN
Torra kept me in his office for a long time. He asked me a few questions, but mostly he stayed quiet. He sat in a chair near mine, facing the fire. Normally, I found his patient silence irritating. But now, it felt as comforting as a soft blanket.
And then he broke the silence.
“When Telsey first started, she was so anxious,” his voice was slow and melodious, eyes still on the flames, “she was so afraid of making mistakes that she ended up making many.”
I didn’t want to hear this.
“She was terrible with people, at first. Didn’t know how to talk to them, how to help them,” Torra continued, “but she worked so hard on it. She had a habit of smothering and lingering. But she meant well.”
I knew she meant well. And I still said those things—
I stood so fast my vision darkened for a moment. I strode to the door.
“You can have a day off tomorrow, if you wish,” Torra called after me.
Normally, I would exult in a day off. But I didn’t want a whole day of thinking about Telsey’s dried-out face and horrible expression.
In my room, I took out the book Telsey had been clutching. It almost seemed to vibrate in my hands, darkly thrilled to be read. I hid it under my bed instead.
I laid back on my bed, staring at the dim mage-lights.
“Do not cry,” I ordered to myself, “do not.”
I felt the air change. A warm, tender feeling came over me. It reminded me of when Grandma used to brush her fingers through my hair. A blanket suddenly appeared on me. I laughed hollowly. The Library was mothering me.
“I don’t want it,” I said. The blanket remained.
“I don’t want it!” I yelled this time and ripped the blanket off me. I kicked it, panting heavily. A moment later, the blanket was gone. That compassionate presence left, leaving me cold and alone.
5
FENNION
I quickly realized I couldn’t solve the murders on my own. So I went to the Head Librarian first. He promised to help when he could, but could not commit to the task. He claimed he was too old and frail and would get in the way.
“Every day I feel my body shutting down more,” Torra said practically, “solving a murder would speed it along too quickly.”
Now that Telsey was gone, he had extra duties. And he couldn’t die before grooming the next Head Librarian. I understood, but still felt keen disappointment.
I asked every Librarian. All their answers were the same. They wanted justice too, but they were too afraid. Afraid they would be targeted.
Again, I understood, but was heartbroken all the same.
I realized I didn’t even know where to start. I spoke with the authorities, but they had zero leads.
I sat in my room, staring at a blank piece of parchment paper. If only I had an idea of what the motive was. I threw down my quill with a frustrated groan. Then grabbed my heaviest coat and headed for the Royal Stables.
The Royal Stables stood behind the Royal Palace. I was used to the feral, smoky smell of the animals so when I entered the stables, I didn’t recoil. Somewhere inside I could hear the roar of one of the creatures, most likely a juvenile resisting the saddle. I heard shouts, then felt a blast of heat hit my face. Yes, that must be an especially stubborn dragon.
The royal family of Kartheya had been breeding dragons for centuries. Dragons were difficult to breed because they were clever, and they were picky. Unlike other animals that were driven to breed by pure instinct, dragons had life-mates. And they would not breed with any other creature than their life-mate. And so, dragon eggs were rare, fragile, and precious.
When a royal turned 12, they were given a dragon’s egg. Selecting your dragon was an important ceremony. You must choose the right egg for you, trusting your intuition. The egg took nearly a year to hatch, and you were entirely responsible for its care. And when it hatched, it was imperative that the first person the hatchling saw was you, or you would never gain the dragon’s true trust.
I passed by the stalls, greeting the dragons. I passed Karsea’s dainty water-wyvern, Selkie. She was about the size of a horse. Her scales were pale blue and her eyes were bright yellow. She had wings that reminded me of dragonfly wings and a set of gills. She could fly and breathe water. Instead of spewing fire, she could shoot out boiling water.
Highlar’s dragon, Reaver, was Selkie’s opposite. Where Selkie was made of graceful lines and speed, Reaver was as bulky as his rider. His scales were black-tipped with red and his eyes were the color of swords. Like Selkie, he had only two legs and a set of sail-like wings that smoked when he flew. Reaver’s fire came out like waves of hot lava.
I stopped in front of my dragon’s stall. Fluffy didn't acknowledge my presence. He lay in the hay of his stall, pretending to sleep.
“Hello, beasty,” I greeted him.
Fluffy let out a snore. I laughed, pulling out his saddle. I stepped inside the stall, and Fluffy cracked open one violet eye to watch me. He didn’t bother to get up as I strapped his saddle on.
“Lazy,” I tsked. Fluffy huffed, insulted. He climbed to his feet and shook hard, like a dog. Both my siblings had dignified and loyal dragons.
Of course, I got the grouchy, prissy one.
He was beautiful, though. Larger than a horse, but with sleek lines and a wide wingspan. His scales were silvery, glinting like mirrors. Unlike the wyvern styles, Fluffy was a drake so he had four legs and two sets of wings on his back. This gave him more speed and agility than other dragon varieties. His wings were nearly translucent and so thin they looked like they were made of spider-silk. He breathed fire too. Brutal shots of pure blue flame.
He was also a lazy bastard. But I loved him. And I knew he secretly loved me, despite his grumbling.
I led him out of the stable. He mulled by Selkie’s stall, crooning at her flirtatiously. Selkie preened.
“Come along, lover-boy.”
Fluffy growled at me.
There were two places in this world where I felt most alive and most myself.
The Library.
And in the air, on the back of my dragon.
Fluffy beat his wings, slow and in control, and glided us above the Royal City. He swept close to the ground near the Politician’s Square, with his belly nearly touching the austere red buildings. Below us, people stopped to watch, mouths open in awe.
“Show off,” I teased.
We flew over the Forest of Fell. Kartheya was a kingdom of woods and mountains, with little patches of civilization carved out here and there. The Royal City was the largest city, constantly expanding. Every year more of the Forest of Fell was pulled out to make new houses and buildings. Seeing the ancient trees uprooted always made me nervous like we were disturbing something we didn’t truly understand and that was best left alone.
Fluffy flew close to the tall trees of the Forest of Fell. The leaves were changing, turning the forest into a sea of scarlet and gold. I peered over the side, trying to catch a glimpse of some fantastic beast or monster. The books I had read spoke of terrible creatures like blood-sucking draugr and territorial spider-snakes living i
n the forest. But there were also beautiful creatures, such as the star-fawns whose coats shone as bright as the celestial bodies, and the winged foxes that granted wishes to those who caught them. The Forest of Fell was barely explored and the animals and monsters within had yet to be fully categorized. One of my many lofty, impossible dreams was to explore the forest.
I sighed, laying heavily against Fluffy’s back. Fluffy swiveled his long neck to look back at me, nudging me with his large snout.
“It’s alright,” I said, but didn’t mean it.
How am I going to save the Library? No one was willing to help me and I couldn’t do it by myself.
Fluffy dove left, catching a gust of warm wind to glide on. I closed my eyes, enjoying the way the wind tousled my hair.
Then, an idea came to me. Oh, it was a bad idea. But the only one I had.
HARKEN
I was too tired the next day to sabotage my shift. I wandered the rows of the Library listlessly instead.
The Library was in mourning. It had plunged the whole building into inky darkness, so thick you couldn’t see directly in front of you. Every Librarian and patron held a mage-light, shuffling around in the darkness carefully.
It was almost as if when Telsey died, she took all the light with her.
I rounded a corner and came upon two Librarians whispering at the end of the row.
“He’s tired. He should have retired years ago,” said one.
“He can’t now,” the other Librarian said, “there’s no one strong enough to replace Torra now that Telsey is—”
I wheeled around and walked away quickly, not caring if I tripped in the dense darkness. I half-jogged blindly. My magic perked its ears and slyly tried to creep out of my ribcage, but I pushed it back down.
Distracted, distraught, I didn’t notice the person in my path until I collided with them. I smacked right into them, my head ricocheting hard off their chest. I let out an undignified “oof” and started to fall backward.
The person grabbed me by the waist and hauled me back against them. Then I saw their face.
“Your highness,” I gasped with as much composure as I could.
Prince Fennion looked just as surprised to see me. Because he was only a few inches taller than me, our bodies were pressed together tightly. Chest to chest, hip to hip. He smelled like cedar cologne and smoke.
“Are you alright?” Fennion’s voice was so close, his green eyes looked directly into my own.
Coming to my senses, I detangled myself from him.
“Fine,” I replied primly, prepared to walk around him. But he stepped into my path. And when I tried again to get around him, he stepped into my path again. I frowned at him.
In the mage-light, his expression was earnest. Even a little wild. I stepped away from him. He followed, taking a step toward me to match.
“Can I help you with something?” I asked.
“Yes,” he breathed, the word gusty and passionate. I looked him up and down. He was usually so put together, wearing only the best clothing. But today he was dressed plainly in dark pants and a simple shirt. His hair was wind tousled, his cheeks pink.
“I need your help,” he said, his eyes grave.
“With what?” I backed away. But with every step I took he followed. Before I knew it, I had backed into a wall. He stood only a few paces from me.
“Saving the Library,” Fennion said firmly. My mouth opened. Then closed.
“What?” was all I could manage.
“Someone or something is killing Librarians,” he explained, “these are coordinated attacks. I’m going to figure out who, and why, and keep the Library and the Librarians safe.”
He paused.
“And you’re going to help me,” he finished. His words were final, his expression brooking no argument.
“Like hell I will,” I didn’t swear often, but this seemed like the perfect occasion for it.
Fennion glared. I had never seen him so serious. I was used to the arrogant fool, not the avenging Prince.
“No one else will help me. You’re the only one left.”
“No,” I said, trying to get around him. He caught my arm. I tried yanking it away. But he didn’t let go.
“Please—”
“Why do you even care? It’s just a Library.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He used his grip on my arm to push me back against the wall. Not hard, but firmly. He was inches from me now, his expression incredulous and angry.
“How can you not care?” his voice raised, “this is your home—”
“It’s not—”
“Telsey was your friend!” he was shouting now, eyes seething.
“No, she wasn’t!” I shouted back. He grabbed my shoulders and kept me pinned to the wall.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Breathing hard. Then his eyes dropped to my lips and his pupils blew wide. The air stuttered in my lungs. I went very, very still. He licked his lips, suddenly looking unsure. Another tense moment passed. He sighed and let me go.
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll make you a deal.”
Despite myself, I was intrigued. Seeing my interest, he sighed again, pressing his fingers against his forehead. Like I was the one giving him a headache for once.
“I’ll pay you,” he winced, like the words tasted dirty, “whatever ridiculous, filthy sum you desire. But only if you commit to solving the murders.”
At first, I felt insulted that he thought I could be bought.
But then my mind conjured Arla’s dark, clever eyes.
This could be my way out. Until now, my only plan was to be fired from the Library, to be “forced” to give up my vow. But after that, I didn’t have a plan. My parents wouldn’t take me back and I’d die before asking them for help or money.
But if I agreed, I could be set for life. Dependent on no one. Living to please myself and no one else.
I could open a school. For commoner children. A free school with a flexible schedule, unlike the schools in the city that demanded a steep fee and strict schedules. Maybe I could give the commoner children a chance to be able to choose their own futures. Or at least nurture some wonder and imagination in them before life could take that away.
The Prince waited for my answer, more composed now. In fact, he looked embarrassed by his outburst. He ran his hand through his already messy hair, avoiding my eyes. When he felt my stare, he looked at me and raised a questioning eyebrow that said “Well? Do we have an accord?”
FENNION
Of course, the sum Harken named was outrageous, but I expected nothing less from her. Harken Kenza didn’t do things by half measures. I just hoped that level of commitment would be put into solving the murders.
After we agreed on a price, we sat awkwardly on a couch together, unsure what to say or do.
“So,” I said slowly, “where should we start?”
She slanted me with a look that was pure contempt.
“How should I know? This is your little operation.”
Her words were tart and condescending. But she was right.
“You found Telsey’s body,” Harken stiffened at my words. “Do you recall anything important?”
Harken’s golden eyes dulled. I realized her eyes looked even more bloodshot and bruised than usual. I sympathized. I hadn’t slept properly since Yenlon died.
“She— Telsey looked like Yenlon. Dried out,” Harken said hoarsely, “like something had sucked the life from her.”
I nodded, “The authorities think it was draugr but—”
“They only drink blood,” Harken finished for me. I was a little impressed that she knew that.
“Precisely. I’ve read about the creatures and monsters of the Kartheya, and none that I know of do that.”
“I don’t think it was a monster or animal,” Harken said, a strange, keen shimmer in her eye. I tilted my head questioningly.
“I think it was magic.”
I felt my eyes bug out of my skull.
“You think a mage could have done this?”
“Maybe not a Kartheyan one. But the body it—the air around it, it sort of,” she searched for the word, “it hummed. It reminded me of magic. Just not any kind I’ve felt before.”
I thought this over. The other countries in Vivus had strong magic. A foreign mage might have used some kind of dark power to kill the Librarians. But why?
“What else do you remember about that night? Did Telsey have anything on her robes that could give us a clue about her attacker?”
At my words, something sparked in Harken’s eyes.
I had never been in one of the Librarian’s dorms before. I felt oddly bashful looking over Harken’s spare but cozy room. My eyes lingered on the second bed, stripped bare and empty.
I made myself comfortable on Harken’s bed, laying on it with an indulgent (and tired) moan. Harken’s eyes flicked to me, her expression pinched. I smirked lazily back at her, patting the spot beside me as an invitation.
Instead, she ducked under the bed. When she straightened there was a book in her hands. It was bound in suspiciously flesh-colored leather and the words on the cover were ancient.
“What is that?” I asked, suppressing a shudder. The room suddenly felt chilled and watchful.
“Telsey was holding this when she died.”
Harken sat on the bed, but as far from me as she could. She handed the book to me, eager to stop touching it. I reluctantly took it. The leather was oddly warm and tacky.
“Why did you take it?” I asked.
Harken looked at her hands, shrugging.
“It was from the Forbidden Section,” she finally said, “and I didn’t want anyone else to know. It didn’t seem fair, that anyone should think that Telsey…” her voice cut off.
But I understood. She didn’t want anyone to think badly of Telsey in death. So she stole the book to give Telsey some dignity. Harken refused to look at me, but I looked at her profile, warmth spreading across my chest. I was enchanted by this strange and noble act of kindness from such a prickly woman.