Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Arriving early for her Library shift, Beatrice gripped a jar beneath her gray librarian coat, one hand clamping the lid firmly shut.
After the fiasco of that reading in the Faerie Market, she’d spent her free time in the past few days catching all of the spiders she and a few helpful bookwyrms could find.
The last thing she wanted was for that lid to open and the spiders to get on her instead of her target.
These weren’t monster spiders, so they weren’t venomous and they wouldn’t attack people. No, these were the ordinary pests that even a magical library in the Fae Realm had.
It was a good thing her years in the Fae Realm had inured her to all things creepy and crawly. She hadn’t even shuddered too many times while gathering all these spiders.
She nodded to a few of the other librarians as she worked her way through the Library toward the section of circular shelves.
Once there, she peeked around the doorways until she found the shelf where Benedict was already hard at work, perusing the books in the few minutes he had before starting his shift.
For a moment, she hesitated. Yes, he’d played a mean prank, swapping the book last minute on her. But then he’d gotten that cookie for her. And he’d protected her from those fae who would have snatched her.
The look on his face when he’d been running down the street toward her…his eyes so wide, as if he’d been frightened for her.
Perhaps she shouldn’t do this. Were spiders too much after the relatively minor prank he’d played on her?
No, he deserved this after what he’d done. She wouldn’t dump the spiders down his shirt. Just on his head where they could be easily brushed off.
Tiptoeing into the circle, she crept up behind him, the moss on the floor muffling her footsteps. When she was right behind him, she withdrew the jar, held it over his head, pulled off the lid, and gave the jar a firm shake. The captured spiders tumbled onto his head and shoulders.
“Ha. Take that.” She leapt backward to avoid getting any spiders on her as she gave in to the urge to gloat.
Benedict spun around, his eyes narrowed. “What did you…” He swept a hand over his hair. His hand came away with several spiders clinging to it.
At the sight of the spiders, Benedict paled as white as the paper in the books behind him as his eyes went wide.
He stumbled until his back slammed into the shelf behind him.
Frantically pawing at his hair, his shoulders, his clothes, his movements grew more and more panicked. “Get them off. Get them off.”
He collapsed to the ground, his knees tucked to his chest, his arms over his head as if to protect himself. He was muttering and shaking, not even seeming to be aware of her anymore.
Beatrice took another step back. Just what had she done? She’d never known Benedict to react like this. He’d put snail slime in her hair, spiders in her pockets, a frog in her lunch. And she’d done all that and more right back. It was their thing.
Yet during all those years of pranks, he’d never freaked out like this. He’d never been this broken.
Benedict huddled, trying to ignore the feeling of too many legs skittering over his body.
It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It was never real.
Something prickled against the skin on the back of his hand. A tiny black spider crawled over his knuckles.
He shuddered and flung it off, his body shaking. It was all in his head. There never were any spiders. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face pressed to his knees. Not that huddling within himself would do anything against the illusions piercing his brain.
“Benedict? Are you all right?”
The feminine voice didn’t belong in that place of illusions and nightmares. She was far too real. Too much a part of the Library and everything good about it.
A light touch rested on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have put spiders in your hair if I’d realize you were so scared of them.”
“The spiders are real?” He shouldn’t have to ask. He should have been able to discern the difference between what was real and what was illusion.
Yet he’d never been able to do that in the dungeon. What made him think he could do so now?
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
The spiders were real. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Strangely, knowing the spiders had been real and not merely a torture of his imagination calmed him. Real spiders could be squished. Real spiders could be tossed away.
He sensed more than saw her lower to the ground next to him. “I was just so mad at you after you switched the book yesterday, and we always took out our frustrations on each other with pranks like this. It was childish, I know.”
Benedict released another long breath and managed to lower his arms. He blinked to focus on her.
She sat with her legs tucked beneath her pink skirts, her blue eyes big and liquid as she regarded him.
He shook his head, tearing his gaze away. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat closed up. Though, he wasn’t sure if it was from emotion or from his vow preventing him from speaking.
“You never used to be scared of spiders. You had no trouble putting them in my hair when I was twelve. And in my pockets when I was fourteen.” Beatrice remained sitting beside him, her face puckered with worry that he never thought would be directed at him.
“What happened? Was it during your imprisonment? You’ve been different since you returned. ”
“The fae are cruel, even to their own.” He stared at his feet rather than look at her.
How much would the vow let him say? He tried to say more—tried to tell her exactly what they had done to him—but his tongue couldn’t seem to form the words.
In the end, all he could say was the complete truth, even if she would assume the wrong reason for it. “I can’t talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.” She spoke even more softly and, ever so gently, laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sure it was awful.”
“I well deserve what I experienced after everything I put you through when we were children.” He stared at that hand rather than meet her gaze.
“You didn’t deserve whatever they did to you. Not if it made you react like this.” Beatrice’s fingers tightened on his sleeve.
“Maybe not. But it made me realize how awful I’d been back then.” He swallowed, still unable to look at her.
“It felt horrible at first, but don’t forget. I pranked you just as enthusiastically back.” Beatrice’s hand on his arm shifted as she shrugged. “It became almost fun after a while.”
“No, don’t minimize what I did to you. Don’t romanticize it or dismiss it.
” He shook his head again, his shoulders slumped.
“I was horrible, and I’m sorry for that.
You were responding in kind because it was the only way to defend yourself.
There’s a difference. Yes, my parents raised me to be like that, but that’s no excuse.
It was cruel and wrong, and I understand now how awful it was.
No one should hurt another person for entertainment. ”
She didn’t speak for long moments, so long that he risked glancing at her. She stared straight ahead, although she hadn’t withdrawn her hand from his arm. Finally, she released a long breath. “Thank you for the apology. I never thought I’d hear it from you.”
“I know. Noble fae aren’t exactly known for recognizing our faults, much less apologizing for the wrongs we’ve done.” Benedict gave a harsh laugh. He well knew that his parents and brother would never apologize, and certainly would never apologize to a human.
“True.” Beatrice gave him a small smile. “Then again, most people, fae or human, aren’t great at recognizing when they’ve done wrong and apologizing sincerely for it, much less actually changing their ways. And from what I’ve seen lately, you’re doing all of that. It’s…impressive.”
Impressive enough that she would want to stay in the mate bond with him? He didn’t dare voice the question out loud.
“Thank you.” He finally raised his head, telling himself that he didn’t still sense the creeping, skittering, prickling feeling of spiders crawling down his spine. But he was on shift so he couldn’t just leave to wash and change clothes, much as he might wish to.
It was fine. He was fine. He had endured much worse in the form of illusions in Claudius’s dungeon.
A green bookwyrm poked its head from the bookshelf near Benedict’s head, its tongue flicking in and out. Swiveling to Benedict, the bookwyrm’s head darted forward, its nose a light bump on his shoulder, before it withdrew. It did it again before its tongue flicked over Benedict’s hair.
Eating the spiders. Benedict forced himself to relax and slouch more fully against the shelf behind him as another bookwyrm, this one yellow, appeared on his other side. “Thank you, bookwyrms, Library.”
“They probably feel as guilty as I do.” Beatrice’s gaze fell away from him again. “They helped gather the spiders.”
“It’s forgiven. Truly.” Forcing a smile, he turned to her more fully, reached into a pocket, and pulled out two of the sticky buns he’d transferred into his gray coat from the temporary green one. “After a moment like that, we need sticky buns before we get back to work.”
Beatrice took the sticky bun slowly. Instead of smiling, she stared at the dessert in her hand. “Now I really feel awful about the spiders.”
“Don’t.” Benedict bit into his sticky bun, the sweetness coating his tongue and banishing the last of the shakiness. He hadn’t had desserts in that dungeon. At a grumbly hiss, he broke off a couple of pieces and fed them to the bookwyrms.
“Still, let’s agree. No more pranks.” Beatrice continued to hold the sticky bun rather than eat it.
Benedict swallowed his bite before he spoke firmly. “No more pranks.”
He’d stick to that. No more swapping books out. Sure, he’d had the intention to innocently tease her more than prank her. But her reaction in gathering the spiders showed that she hadn’t taken it as mere teasing.
He would need to continue to do better where she was concerned. If he didn’t want to be like the fae who had tormented him there in that dungeon, then he would need to make a conscious effort to treat her with the dignity and respect she deserved.
Beatrice licked her fingers of the last of the sticky bun as she side-eyed Benedict.
In the past few minutes, he’d been more real, more vulnerable, than she’d ever seen him. This was the Benedict beyond the smirks and pranks.
And it did something funny inside her chest. Something that was both pleasant and far, far too scary to name.
Worse, he’d apologized—sincerely apologized—for everything he’d done to her when they’d been children.
How was she supposed to keep Benedict of the Heart-Fluttering Smirk at arm’s length when he did stuff like apologize and give her desserts?
“There the two of you are.”
The voice made Beatrice jump. She swiveled to face the opening into the circle of shelves.
Rosaline, one of the other apprentice librarians, stood there, her brown hair long down her back. She glanced between Beatrice and Benedict, her brow slightly furrowed.
Beatrice could only guess at what conclusions Rosaline was making at finding Beatrice and Benedict sitting rather close to each other like that.
Leaping to her feet, Beatrice brushed at her skirts, only to realize that her fingers were still sticky.
She held out her hands to the bookwyrms for them to lick off. “Yes? You were looking for us?”
“The two of you have been assigned to Master Librarian Basil.” Rosaline spun and started walking away at a quick clip. “There’s a rush of patrons again.”
Beatrice took a step toward the exit of the circle shelf but halted and glanced over her shoulder at Benedict.
He still sat on the moss floor, his back to the shelf, one of the bookwyrms still munching spiders out of his hair. His gaze dropping away from her, he gave a wave. “Go on. I’ll be there in a moment.”
She nodded and hurried from the shelf into the rest of the Library. Perhaps he still needed a minute or two to gather himself after the spiders. Or to let the bookwyrms finish eating all of those said spiders.
Another stab lanced her heart at that. She really shouldn’t have done that. It truly had been childish, and he certainly hadn’t deserved it, given it had reminded him of his captivity in the Court of Revels.
As she neared the atrium, where she could see the long lines of patrons stretched from the various master librarian tables, she squashed the guilt and all thoughts of Benedict.
She was a librarian with a job to do. Now wasn’t the time for figuring out just what was going on with a certain handsome fellow apprentice librarian.