Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Beatrice found herself humming as she stepped from the Anywhere Door into the Hall, earning her a few glances from those around her.
Benedict’s apology yesterday didn’t erase the years when he’d been a boy tormenting her with pranks. But it eased some of the lingering hurt she’d had all these years.
In spite of the nicer version of Benedict, she still wanted to end the fated mate bond. After all, she wanted a choice. Nor had she planned on marrying quite this young.
But perhaps searching for the answer to breaking the mate bond wouldn’t be so bad, now that they’d found a better footing between them.
Then there was the memory of him defending her from the fae who had wanted to carry her off in the Market. Seeing him protecting her like that had squeezed her heart and fluttered in her stomach.
Not that she wanted to get flutters around Benedict of all people. But a few flutters were allowable, right?
Entering the Library, she made her way toward Basil’s table. He’d left for the Library extra early that morning, having wanted to go through a few of the books she’d set aside for him.
This early, only a few patrons lingered around the tables nearest the doors or wandered the shelves. As she made her way around the Tree, even that much bustle died away until, when she reached Basil’s desk, the quiet was deep enough for her to hear the rustle of his flipping pages.
Basil hunched over the book before him, one hand on the page, the other tousling the strands of his dark hair. His eyes flicked back and forth, his mouth moving in a silent murmur, as he was utterly absorbed in what he was reading.
She halted before his desk and cleared her throat. “I’m going to search a few more books until my shift starts.”
Basil looked up from the book before he straightened. “Yes. Of course.” He paused, his gaze still on her. Then he sighed. “Has Benedict been treating you all right? I know having both of you working under me has thrown the two of you together more than you’d prefer.”
“He’s been…” Heroic when he rescued her in the Market. Sweet when he gave her desserts. Vulnerable when he all but admitted to being tormented while held captive. “Strangely nice.”
Basil made a hmming noise, his fingers tapping on the book. “Just keep an eye on him, all right? With how strangely Demetrius and Nick Bottom have been acting, it casts suspicion on all of those who returned during that prisoner swap.”
Beatrice’s stomach sank, the flutters she’d been feeling all morning twisting into something more painful and sour.
Was Benedict’s change of heart just whatever strange phenomenon that had been afflicting those who had returned? What if it wasn’t real? What if it didn’t last?
“I’m being careful. Don’t worry about that.” Beatrice forced a smile as she began to turn away. “I’ll be back once my shift starts.”
Even as she made her way through the shelves, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to break.
Benedict sauntered into the Library, a new lightness to his step. Somehow, breaking down in front of Beatrice, even if he hadn’t been able to tell her what had happened to him, had lightened something inside him. As if some of the weight had lifted from his soul.
Pausing beneath the spreading branches of the Tree in the atrium, Benedict took in the bookwyrms scurrying between the shelves, the librarians and patrons hustling by the desks and into the sprawling Library, and the nobles of the court drifting throughout.
Yet even with all the bustle, the Library remained muted and peaceful, the air filled with floral scents mixed with leather and paper.
Butterflies danced among the branches of the Tree and throughout the shelves while flowers grew from the moss that carpeted the floor.
How he loved this Library. And today, it seemed all the more peaceful and wonderful.
Still strolling jauntily, he wound his way between the various shelves and patrons, a smile on his face. Yet when Benedict arrived at the circular shelves, he found them disappointingly empty.
No matter. He set to work searching the books, flipping through them more by rote than with any kind of intention.
When she appeared, a flutter of pink skirts and golden curls, it was without the normal spring in her step. Instead, she trudged to the shelves, a bookwyrm in her arms in a sure sign she’d sought comfort from the Library.
“Is everything all right?” He studied her. After their breakthrough yesterday, he’d expected her to greet him with a smile, not a frown.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” Her gaze swung away from him as she approached the shelf, releasing the bookwyrm to wriggle its way between the books. “I’m just getting worried that we’re not finding anything. The second Midsummer is coming far too quickly. Only a little over a week away.”
“Right.” He didn’t think that was the real reason for her mood, but he let it go. She would just shut him down more if he pushed her.
The two of them set to work searching in a heavy silence that sat uncomfortably on his shoulders and in his chest.
His gaze caught on the title of the next book. After pulling it out, he flipped through the pages, his gaze skipping over the words before something made him go back and read them again, this time more thoroughly. He stilled. “Beatrice. I think I found it.”
“Really?” She crossed the space and peered over his arm to take in the book. Her golden hair brushed his sleeve, and he caught a whiff of her faintly floral scent. “Let’s take this to Basil and have him confirm.”
Beatrice rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes and back as Basil sat behind his desk and perused the folk tale Benedict had found. After several moments, Basil tapped the book, his eyes distant. “This reminds me of something I read…where was it…”
He searched through the pile of books on one edge of his desk, setting several aside before he opened one that had been in the middle of the stack. He paged through it until he must have found the spot he was looking for.
“Well?” Beatrice probably should let him read in peace, but she just couldn’t help her impatience. She and Benedict had been searching for weeks. Had they really found the answer after all this time?
Benedict stood to the side, his arms crossed. Since he’d found the book, he hadn’t spoken much.
Finally, Basil looked up, glancing between the two of them before focusing on Beatrice.
“If I’m reading this interpretation of the Laws of Bindings correctly, paired with this tale, I believe there is a way to break the fated mates binding.
The two of you need to pledge your undying hatred for each other on Midsummer Night when the magic is highest. That will break the bond.
If you do that, there will never be a possibility of another binding forming between the two of you ever again. ”
“No binding?” Benedict’s face had harder lines than she usually saw in it, his blue eyes oddly bleak.
“None. Not a captive binding, and certainly not another marriage binding.” Basil shrugged. “Not that I expect that will be a great sacrifice.”
“Certainly not.” The words fell from Beatrice’s mouth, but they tasted like the dust of a dying farm on her tongue. Several weeks ago, she would have pledged her undying hatred for Benedict without another thought. She routinely did just that whenever someone so much as mentioned his name.
But now, after everything? How could she look him in the eye and vow her hatred? He’d protected her. Apologized. Spent hours with her in the Library talking about books and teasing about romances.
She no longer hated him. No, what she felt stirring in her chest when she looked at him was so much the opposite of hatred that she hadn’t dared face the truth of it.
Still, what other choice did they have? If they didn’t break the fated mate bond, then they would have to get married.
She might not hate him anymore—she might even be starting to feel something else for him—but that didn’t mean she wanted to go all the way to marriage with him. Certainly not anytime soon.
If only she had more time to sort through all the confusing feelings filling her. If only they had more time for Benedict to continue to prove to her that this change in him was real.
But the second Midsummer was only a little over a week away. They had no time.
When she dared peek up at him, Benedict remained silent, his face even more blank than before. After she’d stared for another moment, he gave a slight shrug, his voice flat. “I suppose not.”
There was something in his tone, his stance. Almost as if he was reluctant to break this mate bond.
Was he feeling the same tumult of emotions that she was? And what would she do if he was vulnerable again and confessed as much?
Working his shift that day alongside Beatrice was torture. Far more torturous than the spiders and rats and everything else he’d been forced to imagine in Claudius’s prison.
She still wanted to end the fated mate bond. Worse, she had no problem pledging undying hatred for him.
He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been her childhood enemy. Her nemesis. He’d tormented her. Pranked her. Pretended he despised her. Even now, the two of them were rivals for the same assistant librarian spot.
What had ever made him think he would be worthy of binding their fates together in marriage for the rest of their lives?
No, he needed to put Beatrice out of his mind and his heart. Right now, he needed to focus on his plan to save the Library and expose the imposters before they ruined the upcoming Midsummer.
After all, he would do anything to protect this Library. No matter what—or who—it might cost him.
Plastering on a smirk, he swaggered nonchalantly through the Library, the evening darkness shadowing the corners and the shelves lit only by floating faerie lights.
After some searching, he heard the loud noises and laughter of his brother and the other young nobles coming from one of the reading nooks.
He stepped inside, taking in the warm coziness of this particular nook.
The shelves here were all dark wood, the moss an especially deep green.
A brick fireplace was set into the wall, a fire crackling within, while plush chairs of deep red and soft brown leather clustered before it.
Instead of the floral scent of most of the Library, this room always smelled of sandalwood and spices.
Borachio, Tybalt, and a young nobleman named Pedron lounged on the chairs.
A couple of them had books open on their laps, but everyone knew they weren’t there to read.
That was just an excuse to lounge about the Library.
Such was the life of the sons of the noble fae who had finished their duty to the Library and now had nothing better to do but laze about.
“Benedict!” Tybalt waved to him as he drew near. “Come join us! Unless you need to report in for a night shift?”
“I just finished a shift, so I’m all yours.” Benedict plopped into one of the open chairs, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.
“When are you going to be done with all that nonsense?” The book on Pedron’s lap was splayed open and upside down, several of the pages bent.
Benedict had to grip the armrests to prevent himself from rescuing the poor book. “Not for a while, I’m afraid. The difficulty of being the second son.”
“My little brother has become quite dedicated since returning from the war.” Borachio shifted in his seat. His book was closed and sitting on the table beside him with no attempt to even pretend to read.
That was about as good of a natural point to turn the conversation as he was going to get. Benedict shifted to better face his brother, his sneer still in place. “I’m quite dedicated to tracking down the Wild Fae Primrose. Who I…”
“Who you blame for your imprisonment. Yes, we know.” Tybalt flapped his hand. “You’ve said as much many times. It’s getting tiresome.”
“But what I haven’t mentioned is that I have a plan to catch him.” Benedict tore his gaze away from his brother to focus on first Tybalt, then Pedron.
“Really?” Pedron clasped his hands behind his head.
The book on his lap slid to the floor, landing with even more pages bent.
A Library root shot out of the ground, smacked Pedron’s shin hard enough to make him yelp, and collected the book, toting it back to the shelves.
Still rubbing his shin, Pedron continued talking with barely a pause.
“That would be quite the feat. All of the Fae Realm has been trying to catch him for years. What makes you think you can do it?”
Benedict squeezed his hands tighter on the armrests. “I’m not going to tell you. But I have arranged to lure the Primrose to the Woodland reading nook tonight. I can guarantee that the Primrose will be there at midnight.”
“Our king won’t appreciate it if you capture the Primrose.” Pedron eyed Benedict, something glinting in his eyes. “He has taken great pains to shelter the Primrose, even taking our Court to war because of his actions.”
“All the more reason our king should be saved from himself.” Benedict let the sneer drop, revealing a true hardness he could feel down to his soul. He couldn’t flinch now, no matter how he sounded. “Besides, are you going to tell him?”
After holding Benedict’s gaze for a moment, Pedron shook his head.
Tybalt shrugged. “I’m curious to see if you can pull it off. The so-called hero has evaded many traps before.”
“I might actually be impressed with you, little brother.” Borachio waved his hand vaguely in Benedict’s direction.
Benedict resisted the urge to release a breath. None of them would tell King Theseus.
But if his guess was right, the fae he wanted to trap would show up in the Woodland nook tonight.