Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Beatrice held up the last book from the stack she’d been carrying. The Library detached a branch, took the book from her hand, and placed it gently back into its place.
With a sigh, Beatrice let her arms drop. Finally, all the books had been shelved. As much as she appreciated that everyone in the Fae Realm was showing a renewed interest in the Great Library, now that the war was over, it would be nice if things slowed down long enough for her to catch a breath.
Rapid footsteps made her turn around a moment before Helena hurried around the nearest bookshelf corner.
As her gaze landed on Beatrice, Helena made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a cry.
She all but flung herself at Beatrice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for Meg and Basil but they must have gone home. Surely you can help instead.”
While the Houses had Anywhere Doors, only those who actually lived in that House could take an Anywhere Door directly there, preventing just anyone from barging in. So Helena would have to walk through the fae village to track Meg and Basil down.
“I’ll try. What do you need?” Beatrice shifted backward slightly to give herself some space from the half-gasping, half-sobbing fae woman. Helena was given to dramatics, but this was a bit much even for her.
“I overheard something, and I don’t know what to do.” Helena wrung her hands. Her face had an even more porcelain pallor than normal, and her blue eyes were liquid with her tears.
“What did you overhear?” Beatrice tried to keep her voice level. As she was also prone to dramatics, she probably shouldn’t judge the woman for not telling everything in an orderly manner.
“You know that, ever since he returned, my husband Demetrius hasn’t been himself.
” Helena gave a sniff, still wringing her hands before her.
“Because of that, I’ve been keeping an eye on everyone who returned, hoping I would see something or hear something that would give me some answers for why my Demetrius has been an entirely new person. ”
Beatrice made an encouraging noise and nodded. Spying on the others probably wasn’t the most healthy way to go about getting answers, but Helena seemed desperate enough to try anything.
“Just now, I overheard Apprentice Librarian Benedict talking with his brother Borachio, Tybalt, and Pedron.” Helena sniffed and trembled, her voice growing even more high-pitched. “He said…he said he had a plan to capture the Wild Fae Primrose.”
“Who said that?” Beatrice’s heart hammered, her stomach swooping. She found herself gripping Helena by the arms, barely resisting giving her a shake. “Benedict?”
Surely not Benedict. Anyone but Benedict.
“Yes!” Helena wailed, her weight sagging against Beatrice’s grip.
“What did he say? What is his plan?” This time Beatrice did give the fae woman a shake.
“He said he has a plan to lure the Wild Fae Primrose to the Woodland reading nook at midnight.” Tears rolled down Helena’s face.
“I’m not a part of the League, but I support the Primrose’s work.
I don’t know who is in the League to tell.
But I knew Meg and Basil would be safe. And you, of course.
You must support the Primrose or know someone to tell to warn him.
Should King Theseus be told? I don’t know what else to do! ”
Beatrice’s mind whirled, her stomach churning and heaving even as Helena’s words sliced through any respect she’d formed for Benedict.
How dare he. How dare he apologize and act protective of her, a human, then turn around and plot to capture her sister, the Wild Fae Primrose who defended humans.
He was despicable. Despite his apology, he hadn’t actually changed a whit. He was still the awful, completely terrible boy he’d been years ago.
“Yes. Yes, we need to warn King Theseus.” Beatrice released Helena and spun away from her.
She needed to warn King Theseus. Warn Brigid. Warn her heart that feeling anything but hatred for Benedict had been a horrible idea.
What if Brigid was already on her way here? What had Benedict said and done to lure her into a trap?
Beatrice had stayed late shelving books. There were only a few hours until midnight. No time to go back to the House and risk missing Brigid.
Beatrice whirled back to Helena and grabbed her arms again. “You’re going to warn King Theseus. Warn the king, then warn Basil and Meg. They will know who else to tell. Understand?”
Helena sniffled and nodded. “What are you going to do?”
Beatrice let go of Helena, something both hot and steely filling her. “I’m going to stop him.”
Benedict crouched in the shadows behind one of the stands of birch saplings in this particular reading nook.
He’d picked the Woodland nook specifically because it was a warren of underbrush and tiny clearings, which each held plush chairs and couches so that one could curl up with a good book in the warmth of a summer wood without ever leaving the Great Library.
Besides being a homey place to read, it also provided ample cover for someone setting a trap.
He adjusted his feet as carefully as he could to avoid making noise. How long would he have to wait? Would his quarry step into his trap at all?
A rustling came from the thick saplings that all but blocked the entrance. Another reason he’d chosen this reading nook. It was impossible to enter without creating a great deal of noise.
Benedict tensed, his hands fisted, his muscles ready to spring, even if capture wasn’t his goal. All he planned to do was observe. After all, it wouldn’t do him any good to capture the traitor if he couldn’t actually explain to anyone that the person was a traitor.
This was merely a fact-finding trap. Once he knew who he was dealing with, he could contact the Wild Fae Primrose and tell all he knew without giving away the Primrose’s identity to said traitor.
The rustling and tromping grew closer. For someone hoping to catch the Wild Fae Primrose, the traitor wasn’t trying to be quiet whatsoever.
A glimpse of blonde curls and a light green dress shoved through the undergrowth a moment before Beatrice stomped into the tiny clearing in front of him.
Bumbling bookwyrms. What was she doing here? How had she even known to come here? No one he’d spoken with about this plan would have told her.
It didn’t matter how she’d gotten there. She would ruin everything if he didn’t get her out of sight.
As soon as she turned to peer into the saplings across from him, Benedict sprang to his feet, clapped a hand over her mouth, and wrapped an arm around her waist.
She screamed into his hand, twisting, writhing, and clawing.
“Shh. Keep it down,” Benedict hissed into her ear as he hauled her toward his hiding spot. “You’ll scare him away.”
Beatrice bit his hand. He yelped, yanking his hand away. She squirmed in his grip and kicked his shin so hard he stumbled, letting go of her entirely.
She whirled, facing him just out of his reach. With her fists clenched at her sides and her blue eyes flashing with fire, she glared with the fierceness of a swordmaiden. “That’s the point! I won’t let you capture the Primrose!”
“I’m not—” he started to try to say, but she cut him off before he could find out how much his vow would allow him to say.
“You are despicable! How dare you pretend to be all nice and kind and changed when you aren’t!” Beatrice swiped a stick from the ground and chucked it at him.
He ducked, though the stick had gone wide. What had gotten into her? Yes, he understood her being on the side of the Primrose, but this was beyond what he would have expected. Even her reaction to his book swap prank hadn’t been this heated. “Beatrice, I—”
She screamed between her teeth and hurled another stick at him. It, too, missed. “And to think I was starting to lov—”
“Love me?” He shouldn’t have smiled at that. He certainly shouldn’t find her so beautiful in her fury, even as his stomach twisted. He eased a step closer, surreptitiously pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.
“No. The only l-word I would ever use for you is loathe.” She, too, stepped closer and smacked his chest. “I loathe you.”
He stared down at her, struggling to breathe past the pain lancing through his chest. He’d thought they were making progress. He’d been sure she hadn’t loathed him the previous night.
And now she glared daggers, swords, and all manner of other pointy weapons at him.
Had he been wrong about Lysander being the Wild Fae Primrose?
Beatrice was acting as if her family was at risk.
Yet he’d ruled out both Favian and Basil as being too mild-mannered and too busy to pull off everything the Primrose had.
While Munch certainly had the skills, the Primrose had been operating in the Fae Realm for years before he had arrived.
Sebastian, too, had been rather young when the Primrose started operating, and his move to the Court of Islands seemed to indicate that he wasn’t involved anymore, if he’d ever been.
Maybe Beatrice simply believed in the Primrose’s cause this much? Was she, in fact, a part of the Primrose League?
“Well, I don’t loathe you.” Benedict took another step closer so that they were chest to chest. He held her gaze, willing her to read his sincerity in his eyes. “Please. We’ve spent weeks in each other’s company. You know me. You know my heart. I’m asking you to trust me.”
She held his gaze, fury still lighting her eyes. She didn’t back down or put space between them, no matter how wise it would have been. “Then prove it. Tell me what is going on. Vow that you aren’t here to capture the Primrose.”
He opened his mouth but hesitated. How much dare he say? How much would his previous vow even let him say?
As his hesitation lengthened, her gaze hardened, and she leaned away from him. “I see. I should have known. You can’t.”