36. Something to Look At
Chapter thirty-six
Something to Look At
T orrelin’s Grand Library sat in the shadow of High Tower Castle. Its exterior, an ancient style of design, was the only remaining relic that pointed to the old dynasty of Seers that once called it home. The iron-grey stonework had become stained by years of neglect, now shrouded in creeping ivy. Its spires bedecked with gargoyles who wore an untold number of expressions. The grey slate tiles were so dark they could almost pass for black, especially on rain-soaked and cloud ridden days. Much like the one that saw the Prince of Elithiend shivering outside the library’s heavy wooden doors.
Summer was a distant memory, and autumn too would soon yield to the icy grip of Torrelinian winter. Even now, snow capped the mountain peaks, and it wouldn’t be long until those flurries drifted down to the city below. He had not packed for the cold. Hadn’t been expecting to stay through the winter, underestimating how quickly temperatures would drop in the north. He wondered if he was better off sending Wrenn straight back to Elithiend to retrieve them some warmer clothing. But he knew it was pointless. Anything he owned to survive winter at home wouldn’t suffice here. In the north, winters were devilishly bleak. Snow and frost plagued the citizens for months on end. Even once the worst of the frost thawed spring met them with bitter, icy rain.
Emmerich had seen snow a few times in his twenty-seven years. Solveig had seen it in every one of her twenty-five. As was clear when she walked up to the library in far more suitable attire. Her pants appeared to be of a thick woollen material tucked into heavy fur-lined boots. She wore a knit sweater beneath a wool cloak, its hood trimmed with the same fur as her boots. The princess had pulled her dark fall of night black hair away from her face into a high ponytail, the black choker ever-present around her neck.
“It’s been dawn for at least thirty minutes,” he sniped, shoulders shaking as he shivered against the bitter wind.
“I was delayed.”
“Clearly.”
“You want an apology?”
“It wouldn’t go amiss.” Solveig eyed the pissed off prince and his silent friend who appeared to be napping against the door.
“I could spout words of apology, or I could unlock the doors and let you inside to defrost your wounded ego. Your choice, Prince, I’m plenty warm.” She smiled, burrowing down into her cloak, as a telltale blush dusted the tip of her nose.
“Open the damn door, Princess.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Solveig turned, unhooking a key from the waist belt of her pants. “Wake your friend up whilst you’re at it,” she muttered, flicking her chin in Commander Bleeker’s direction. Emmerich hastily pulled her away from the door, causing her to jump in shock as Solveig shoved the gargantuan library doors wide. The cast iron hinges screeched as they moved.
“You’re welcome,” Solveig called after them as they stormed inside.
Light cascaded down from windows cut into the sides of each tower, unlit sconces encased in glass lined the edge of every bookcase.
“You touch nothing without my say so,” Solveig ordered. “The Grand Library is open to the public, but only in certain sections. Even I am not allowed in all of them. You touch one book out of line, you even breathe in their direction, and we’re finished here. Is that clear?”
“That what happened to that prince from Farrenhold,” Commander Bleeker yawned.
Solveig paused mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“He touched a book out of turn, right?” Wrenn continued, enjoying that she had struck a nerve with the princess. “That’s what landed him in Luxenal. Pretty steep price to pay over a book.” She whistled, dragging a finger down the closest gold dusted spine. “Though word has it, he’s safely home in Farrowvale Palace now, after four long years. You know anything about that?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern, commander,” Solveig gritted.
“Just making conversation.”
“It’s polite to be quiet in libraries, Commander. Didn’t you know that?”
“No one else is here.”
“For now, but not all day. Best we start practising.” Solveig walked off toward the central tower, slinging her cloak over the back of a chair by a long row of mahogany tables. She lit the fireplace beside them to chase away the morning chill that had followed them inside.
“They permit the northern and western towers for public use,” she said without turning to them. “Pull anything you deem useful.”
“And where are you going?” the prince questioned.
“To the section permitted only for the royal family’s use,” she said simply, eyes narrowing. “Remember what I said, Prince.”
“Yeah, yeah, no touching a single book outside the lines you’ve drawn.”
“Good. after all, you wouldn’t be the first prince we’ve locked away over it.” She shrugged, heading off to the eastern tower, making swift work of the rolling ladders.
“You’re right,” Wrenn said, moving to stand beside the prince.
“About?”
“She’s a real piece of work, but gods know she’s something to look at, at least,”
“Less gossiping, more reading,” Solveig shouted from a landing area two stories above them.
“I guess I’ll take the western tower; you take the northern one.”
“Quicker that way, less opportunity for gossiping, as she so eloquently put it.”