Chapter Fifty-Seven
Tour
“Allow me to give you a tour.” Queen Celine rises from her throne.
“We would be honored, Your Royal Highness,” the Emperor says as he stands with ease, despite having imbibed several glasses of wine.
The Queen and her guards lead, with the Emperor following first. I fall in next with my Guards, then Wyrth with his, and every other witch and sorcerer in attendance trails after us, crowding the corridor with our oppressive presence.
Her Royal Highness remains silent as she turns to disappear through a wide doorframe.
His Majesty glances back between his Guards’ shoulders, raking his piercing gray eyes up and down my being before following after our royal host. Anticipation gnaws at my nerves when we round the corner, and my jaw drops in awe of the most magnificent library.
Dark wood shelves rise three stories high, with bookcases housing thousands of leather and cloth-bound spines—all calling my attention with their intricate foil lettering.
The Goddess of Knowledge stares down from a mural on the ceiling, her knowing green eyes and wavy black hair flowing out in wispy tendrils.
White muslin wraps around her form, while her feet are left bare over the plush green grass of the rolling hills.
She holds a gold magnifying glass down by her hip, while lifting a looking glass up near her eyes.
We walk past the curved staircase, with spindles carved like intricate vines spiraling down.
My eyes widen as I stride further in, and I can’t help but spin in a slow circle, soaking in the details, with the urge to climb the nearest ladder and ask one of my Guards to guide me along the silver rail while I dictate when and where we stop.
A tightness clenches my chest with a yearning to see and read all contained in here, grieving the loss of titles and authors I will never discover.
Every other being in the room disappears from my focus while I gawk at the splendor—until Varic’s eyes ensnare me, mirroring my admiration without indication he has observed anything aside from myself.
“The Royal Annovian Library contains everything from historic scrolls dating back thousands of years, to those produced as early as this month,” Her Royal Highness announces, while a strong urge to search a nearby section of shelves pulls me toward it.
“Please peruse. You may select anything from the open shelves. However, anything within a locked case will remain so for preservation.”
Emperor Aldritch lifts his chin in command, and I pull in a breath before striding over, earning me a glare from Wyrth.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Seek any local botanical texts, then do what you must to convince the Queen of your curiosity so she might allow you to borrow them,” Emperor Aldritch commands.
I bow in response.
“Go,” he commands, then promptly catches his coughing fit within a tightly balled fist.
Lars’ ocean-blue eyes snag mine before I cross the parquet floor toward the section of shelves where I feel something call to me.
Rich brown leather spines bearing gold titles prove too difficult to read in the dim light as I skim my fingers over each, waiting for some sense to communicate which to select.
I pause on a rather thick tome, which I pry from the shelf to select a page at random.
“Find anything interesting?” Lars asks, facing the open room behind me.
“Just historical accounts of events involving the names of witches and sorcerers with which I am unfamiliar.”
“And I take it from your unenthused response that is not what you were seeking,” Lars says, while I shake my head and skim over a passage about some king and his accomplishments.
I give up and snap the cover shut, then struggle to wedge the book back in its place while squinting to read the titles near it, when one captures my attention—Annovian Culture: A Compendium by Analise Baker.
My jaw slackens when I read the name again. If what I assume is true, and Analise is a witch, this means Annovia not only allows witches to write but also grants them credit.
A measure of excitement trills through my limbs as I pull the book from the shelf.
“Which title has captured your attention?” Queen Celine asks.
I instinctively tuck the book under my arm, though she has already seen me holding it.
“Interested in learning more about the Harvest Festival?” She gestures toward the book.
“Oh, I hadn’t considered the festival might be mentioned. More general curiosity.”
“Mm,” she says, removing the book from my grasp to flip to a section toward the end. “Here, this should fulfill your curiosity, generally.” Her eyes sparkle as she utters the last word, turning to leave with a smile.
Fray moves closer to Lars and me, claiming, “She likes you.” He stares down at the book, which I promptly slam shut, tucking it beneath my arm after memorizing the page number to reference later.
“She pities me.”
“No one pities you.” Varic moves closer than he should, to which I shift to the side, effectively backing myself into the corner of the bookcase. “If anything, they admire you.”
My chest fills with the warmth only felt in Varic’s presence, sending me his admiration, which flows like gentle waves through my power, tinged with that pinkish-red amber.
“Best behavior.” Lars clears his throat and tilts his head toward the Emperor.
His Majesty glares in our direction as he walks by us, and my heart drops to my stomach as I have not complied with his demand. I acknowledge him with a nod and maintain eye contact until he abandons the connection to animatedly converse with an Annovian Army General.
“Here.” Varic reaches for the book braced beneath my arm, which I promptly hand to him, then force my gaze to stray from the subtle smile he shares with me.
“Now that you have enjoyed our tour of the Royal Annovian Library, there is one more room I would like to show you before you retire for the evening.” The Queen spins to exit the library with Lanska and her guards following.
The rest of our party lines up behind the Emperor when an Annovian servant approaches Varic. I strain to hear as he says he will deliver the book I have selected to my guest suite.
My chest constricts from the way he stares at Varic in wonder while my Lead Guard offers him what must seem to be his undivided attention.
I pull in a breath and allow a small smile to tug the corner of my mouth, as this is an experience I know well—with the way those eyes peer into your soul until it seems you are the only two beings left alive on the Continent, proving there is no hope for me to become less distracted when his magnetism is capable of enchanting a perfect stranger.
The servant backs away with his gaze trained on Varic, bracing the book he handed him like a piece of treasure.
Whereas Varic doesn’t seem to notice when he turns back to me, and I send my magic over to learn what the servant is feeling.
It is no surprise admiration and appreciation swirl at the surface, while pride fills my chest from the reminder of who Varic really is—especially when he is safe to be his natural, kind self, while expressing a genuine sense of gratitude toward the servant.
Behaving like the sorcerer he is beneath all the armor he must wear to protect me and others.
How am I to reconcile how Varic has sacrificed the life where he was able to be more himself, to now be constantly watching for signs of anyone who might wish me harm?
How am I to do anything other than admire his bravery when he could have refused to play the Emperor’s games?
I can’t. No matter how gruff he may seem, I cannot forget the compassionate sorcerer underneath.
Cirrin knocks his shoulder into mine. “Can you imagine having access to all of those stories? All of this information in one place?”
Cirrin peers around the room as we move to leave it. “Can I imagine a world wherein our Emperor allows servants and citizens alike to access a library’s worth of information, rather than the twenty or so texts allowed outside of those locked away with our scribes and the Imperial Priest’s?”
“No. It doesn’t feel real here, either. Though now that I’ve seen it,”—I scan the backs of the heads of the Emperor’s Guards, gauging my safety in saying the next words—“living under such control makes anything freer seem like a dream.”
Cirrin nods, holding his head high with a small smile still playing across his lips.
Then my own mouth quirks to the side with the sense of loss overtaking me, with our harmless interaction exemplifying how the ease with which we converse could exist. Grieving for who we could be, were we allowed to simply exist.