CHAPTER THREE
I was useless at work the next day.
Naturally, I had spent the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning sitting motionless on the edge of my bed. Head spinning.
Had all of that really just happened to me? Who were Nya and Kieran? Were they truly from Outside? And most importantly, why of all people did they seek me out?
Sure, I was knowledgeable about a lot of things from years spent working in the Library, and had access to information that everyday citizens of Cyllene didn’t.
They clearly knew that. But considering my unusual history and my tendency to spend every moment that I wasn’t eating or sleeping holed up in the Library, I wasn’t well-liked or even well-known in the Knowledge Center community.
And even if, for the sake of argument, the Strangers had talked to someone like Brielle or Zander, they wouldn’t have known enough about the specifics of my job to recommend me as an expert on marsh wolves.
I turned the encounter over and over in my head until the sky was gray with the first light of morning.
By that time, my head ached, my mouth was dry, and my stomach gurgled with hunger.
I had folded my hair into a braid, dressed in my usual tunic, loose pants, and sandals, and headed out the door earlier than was necessary.
Even though it gave me a pang of guilt, I had had too much on my mind to wait to walk with Brielle.
Now I sat in one of the Library’s plush chairs, this time on the second floor, with yet another stack of books in front of me.
These were books about love, and the genres were varied.
With the goal of finding meaningful passages for a workshop on love and romance that the Human Interest department was putting together—the not-so-discreet purpose of which was to encourage all of us to pop out babies and keep population growth steady—I had grabbed everything from poetry to self-help books.
And of course, novels that featured images of men and women on the covers in various states of undress.
One cover consisted of only an attractive man, staring intently into the reader’s eyes. Clearly, his seductive gaze alone was supposed to motivate someone to pick up the book and start reading.
The memory of Kieran’s eyes, so close to mine as he crouched beside my desk, flashed into my mind. It wasn’t possible for a human to have eyes like that, was it?
Something tugged at my brain. Something else I had seen before. No, something I had read. Or perhaps it was both—something I had read, but with an illustration that reminded me of Kieran’s eyes.
Like a flower unfurling its petals, the memory opened up to me a bit more.
It was something I had read once in the basement.
I stared out the window at the courtyard but saw nothing. I would find Cato after lunch and see if we had any pending research requests that involved the basement. Once I was down there, I was going to find that book.
I told myself my curiosity about the origin of that strange silver hue was the only reason why I had thought of Kieran’s eyes.
“Where were you this morning?” Brielle asked as she cut into the charred slab on her plate.
Today’s assigned lunch of smoked meat and potatoes felt heavy on a day when the air was thick and the temperature high. We were sitting at our usual table on the deck off the Culinary Preservation kitchen, and sweat was already beginning to trickle down the back of my neck.
“Sorry,” I replied around my own bite. “I had to get to the Library early to get a head start on a project.”
Nya had been clear about the consequences if I told anyone about her and Kieran’s visit.
If only she knew that she had nothing to worry about.
I still allowed my best friend to believe that my father and sister had died in a house fire.
It seemed I was too much of a coward to be truthful about anything in my life.
“Where’s Zander today?” I asked to change the subject.
“I’m not sure. I saw him this morning, but only at a distance.” Brielle leaned in and added conspiratorially, “He’s not as eager to walk together when it’s just me and him.”
I made a face at her and continued eating. She just grinned in return.
Above us, thunderheads were moving in, casting a shadow over everyone on the deck.
Thunderstorms were frequent in Cyllene at that time of year, in that space between spring and summer.
Normally I didn’t pay much attention other than to praise myself for remembering—or curse myself for forgetting—an umbrella.
But today as my mind wandered, I thought about how Nya and Kieran would fare during the storm. Did they have adequate shelter?
My stomach clenched.
They wouldn’t try to take on the marsh wolf pack today, right?
They had seemed to be listening closely the night before.
Surely, they wouldn’t skip the step of surveilling the marsh wolves for a while first before taking any action.
And I had put a lot of emphasis on not confronting them in the water.
They had to know that in the rain, when visibility is poor and the marsh is likely to flood, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Right?
“What are you thinking about?” Brielle asked, snapping me out of my ruminations. I looked down at my empty plate and realized just how long I had been silent.
“I was thinking about Zander.” For some reason, that was the first lie that came to mind. “Wondering if he’s out in the city today, and if he’s going to be able to stay dry during the storm that’s coming.”
Brielle grimaced. “Those are some dark clouds,” she agreed emphatically. “But you have to admit, the thought of Zander out there…drenched in the rain…in his Enforcer uniform…it’s a pretty nice thought.”
The mental image popped into my head before I could stop it. My face gave me away, and Brielle collapsed into giggles.
We stood and carried our trays to the drop-off station near the doors to the kitchen. Brielle would likely be back to clear it later.
“Since you had to go in early, do you have to stay late, too?” Brielle asked. “Or can we walk home together?”
“Let’s walk back together.”
The genuine happiness in Brielle’s answering smile gave me a pang of guilt. She waved and bypassed the main doors to the cafeteria, taking the side door to the kitchen.
Around me, others were hurrying to finish their lunches and get back to their respective work assignments before the rain began. I was anxious to get back to mine, too, but not because of the rain.
I needed to find Cato.
I finally tracked him down on the fifth floor. He was standing next to a cart that was piled high with books. As I got closer, I realized he was shelving them.
“I can do that,” I said hurriedly, reaching for a stack.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” he insisted. “Every now and then, I just need a simple task to help me clear my head.” He added with a laugh, “Don’t take that away from me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, too. He just had that effect.
Cato spent most of his time in the Library, but he was the Mentor of the entire Knowledge Center. Which technically meant that he was our leader, but The Council tried to avoid using terms like that. Much less terms like “boss,” which were absolutely out of the question.
As Mentor of the Knowledge Center, Cato oversaw the Library, the Culinary Preservation department, the Agricultural Preservation department, the Wildlife Preservation department, and the Human Interest department.
Considering the weight of his responsibilities, I often wondered if he himself was a member of The Council.
But considering the strict anonymity that The Council maintained, I knew better than to ask.
His head was shaved, his skin a deep umber, and his dark eyes always held a mischievous twinkle. Although he was happily married, there were women in the Knowledge Center who stood up a little straighter and became a little more animated whenever he was around.
To me, though, Cato was a mentor in the truest sense of the word. Sometimes, much like with Brielle and Zander, I wished that I could truly let him in. Just once.
“What’s on your mind?” Cato asked as he examined the spine of a novel.
“I was just wondering if we had any outstanding projects that required the basement.”
I hoped my voice sounded as nonchalant as I intended. When Cato’s eyes cut to mine, I instantly worried that it had not.
“Why?” he asked simply.
Lying to Cato was more nerve-wracking than lying to Brielle. However, I had read once that the most convincing lies were ones that had some truth woven into them.
“The research assignments that I’ve been working on lately have been a little…straightforward,” I began. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to work on a more serious project. One that involves a bit more mystery and intrigue.”
“Marsh wolves aren’t intriguing enough for you?”
I rocked my head from side to side, as if considering. He seemed to buy my indecisiveness.
“We do have a couple meatier assignments in the queue.” He found the shelf that he was looking for, tucked the novel into its rightful spot, and continued down the aisle. I trailed behind him. “I can grab you the details on one.”
“That would be great!” My enthusiasm was genuine.
He abandoned the cart, and we descended the staircase to the ground level, where his office was located. He unlocked the door, and as I did every time I stepped inside his office, I marveled at how it was like stepping into his mind.
His mahogany desk was piled high with stacks of paper, books of all sizes, and multi-colored folders.
The far wall featured a garden window that normally bathed the room in a pleasant glow, but today just looked out on the rain-soaked courtyard.
The remaining walls were covered by floor-to-ceiling shelves, which were crammed to capacity with more books and curios.