Chapter Four Riela
Chapter Four
Riela
I made a wrong turn on the way back to my room. Or, perhaps more accurately, the castle made a wrong turn. My room should’ve just been up the stairs and to the left, but no matter how far I climbed, I always ended
up on the ground floor.
It was impossible, but after climbing stairs for twenty minutes, I was tired and sweaty and willing to temporarily concede
defeat—and perhaps find the way out, just in case it became necessary to leave in a hurry.
Many of the castle’s hallways somehow led directly back to the stairs, despite the fact that I never made a turn, but after
several false starts, I finally found the main entrance. The huge double doors, however, refused to open no matter what I
tried.
I was tempted to march back to the kitchen to confront the mage, but the thought of his scowl kept me in place. If I couldn’t
get to my room and I couldn’t leave the castle, what could I do? I huffed out a frustrated breath. “Fine, where would you like me to go?” I asked the air, feeling silly.
The castle did not respond, but when I headed back toward the stairs, I somehow ended up in a wide stone hallway softly illuminated
by glowing spheres mounted on iron sconces. Dust lingered on the edges of the floor, but the middle of the hallway was well
traveled. A peek behind me proved that the stairs I’d been aiming for were now at my back.
“If the mage roasts me for snooping, I’m blaming you,” I whispered to the walls.
The first door I tried was locked tight, so I moved on until I found a door standing open. I peeked inside, and my breath caught—it was an enormous library, three stories tall and filled with heavy wooden bookcases holding what had to be thousands of books.
I’d heard rumors that the private royal library in Obrik held ten thousand books, but here was a treasure its equal. I tiptoed
into the room, worried that my mere presence would somehow damage the irreplaceable tomes.
But once the awe wore off, I saw that this room, too, suffered from neglect. Some of the shelves were pristine—and I made
note of which shelves the mage preferred—but most were dull with dust.
“No wonder you needed me in here,” I murmured. “Who treats books so poorly?”
This, at least, was a problem I could solve, since I didn’t exactly have anything better to do while I waited for the mage’s
mood to improve.
And if I worked hard enough, I might be able to stop thinking about how close I’d come to kissing Deir, the saint of death.
I hadn’t expected to survive the second beast, and now that I had, I felt loose and frayed, like the weave of my life had
dropped some stitches.
Spending time in the library, even if it was just cleaning, would put everything back into perspective.
I hoped.
My father had been a retired soldier turned village handyman, but he’d wanted a different life for me. Unfortunately, he’d
died before that life could come to fruition, and I’d had to use the money we’d been saving for an academy education to buy
food.
The villagers had been distantly sympathetic, but there was only so much they could do for an orphaned fifteen-year-old when
they had their own children to feed.
But enough of them had cared to ensure I didn’t starve. As I’d gotten older, the baker often had a room or two that needed
cleaning right when my food was about to run out. Or the healer had a patient who needed watching, or a stall that needed
mucking, or gardens that needed planting.
Most of the skilled jobs were passed down in families who didn’t want to train potential competition, so I’d learned to do everything else, and I was used to pitching in to help anywhere I could, bartering my labor for food and supplies.
If I cleaned the library, then hopefully the mage would be more likely to help me in return.
But first, I needed supplies, and since the castle seemingly wanted me here, maybe it could direct me to where they were stored.
I still felt a little silly asking the castle for help, but I murmured, “I would like to clean the room, but I need a broom or mop and dusting cloths.”
Light glinted in the corner of my eye, and when I turned toward it, I noticed a small door, nearly hidden between two towering
shelves. Inside the tiny closet I found a broom, and a mop, and dusting cloths.
I had not felt so much as a twitch of magic.
I grabbed the cloths and the broom, then climbed the spiraling iron staircase to the library’s third level. Thirty huge shelves
lined the walls, ten on each long wall and five on the shorter sides. Each shelf was wider than my outstretched arms and taller
than my arms raised overhead.
“I’m going to need a ladder,” I muttered, eyeing the shelves.
I turned to go back down and search for one only to draw up short. A lovely wooden ladder rested directly in front of me.
It was attached to a track above the bookcases and the bottom had wheels so it could be easily maneuvered into position.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
A sound like rustling pages sighed through the room, and any remaining doubts I’d had about the castle having magic of its
own were promptly put to rest.
I worked slowly and methodically, taking one shelf of books down at a time.
I carefully wiped the leather covers, then cleaned the shelf and put them back exactly how I’d found them.
Most of the books were in languages I couldn’t read, so I had to trust that whoever had shelved them originally had put them in the correct order.
I was halfway down one of the long walls when a thundering voice startled me so badly I jumped and dropped the book I was
holding. I desperately lunged for it, forgetting I was three stories up on a rolling ladder.
My fingers closed around the spine, but my victory was short-lived as the ladder slid away from my feet. I flung myself away
from the dangerous railing and landed on a stack of books with a pained grunt. Growling and curses floated up from below,
but my compressed lungs refused to cooperate, so I had more immediate problems.
Finally, I sucked in a desperate breath and pushed myself up. Two sets of furious silver eyes were staring at me from far
too close. I scuttled backward. The ladder prevented my retreat, and I turned to glare at it. Traitor.
“Are you hurt?” the mage demanded.
My pride had taken a beating, and my stomach would probably be sore where I’d landed on the books, but it wasn’t anything
permanent, so I stared at his boots and silently shook my head.
He straightened, then extended a hand and helped me to my feet. “What were you thinking, woman?”
I had to look up to meet his eyes, which was a shock. I hadn’t noticed it earlier because I’d been too focused on his appearance,
but I was used to being the tallest person in the room, and the mage was at least a hand taller than me.
“My name is Riela,” I offered. “And I don’t think any of the books were damaged, but if they are, I will repair them.” That,
at least, was a skill I possessed. It hadn’t been particularly useful in my village, but new books were expensive, and I loved
reading. My father had bought damaged copies whenever he could, and I would read and fix them before we sold them to someone
new.
“What are you doing?” the mage demanded, sharply enunciating each word. It was the same demand that had sent me tumbling.
“I’m cleaning.”
His brows drew together into a suspicious scowl. “Yes, I can see that,” he bit out. “Why are you cleaning? What are you searching for?”
The angrier he got, the more I wanted to needle him. It wasn’t smart, but I’d never claimed to be wise. I’d spent over a decade
biting my tongue and doing what I was told so I wouldn’t starve, and I was tired. I’d nearly kissed Deir yesterday. A second chance was the perfect time for a new strategy.
Still, self-preservation was a hard habit to shake, and an angry mage was an unknown I wasn’t quite ready to face, so I answered
him honestly. “I’m not searching for anything. I can’t even read most of the books. I’m cleaning because it’s dusty, and the
books deserve better.”
And because I hadn’t wanted to think about monsters or death, at least for a little bit.
He stared at me, judging my sincerity. I held up my hands, showing him that all I had was a dusting cloth. When he still didn’t
relent, I dared to ask, “Is there something worth searching for in here?”
The scowl was immediate and ferocious. “No.”
I looked around with new interest. Clearly there was something interesting in here, but I could feel the mage’s glare burning into the side of my head as well as an alarming rise in his
magic, so I shrugged and returned to the point. “In that case, you don’t have any reason to keep me from cleaning.”
He stared at me for a moment longer, then his magic rose higher and spread through the room like a shimmery moonlit wave.
When it was gone, the library sparkled under the magical lights. Not a speck of dust remained, and the books I’d taken down
were returned to their places on the shelves.
I gaped at him. “If you can do that, then why was it so dirty?”
His expression hardened. “Because it is a waste of magic.” He turned and left without another word, and after a moment, the
wolf followed him out.
With the library clean and the mage clearly not in a better mood, I tried to return to my room only to somehow end up back in the library without making any turns. The next
two attempts ended the same.
I growled at the castle, caught somewhere between frustration and delight. I had things I should be doing, but spending the
day in the library was an incomparable treat. If the castle refused to let me leave, then I was practically required to sit and read all afternoon.
“You win this round,” I murmured to the air. “But if you don’t let me out later then we’re going to have problems.”
The quiet rustling of paper filled the air, and I hoped that meant we were in agreement.
The mage hadn’t forbidden me from reading, and I wasn’t entirely sure I would’ve obeyed even if he had tried. There were more
books in this one room than I’d seen in my entire life. I would not miss this opportunity. He would just have to deal with
it.
Still, anxiety prickled down my spine as I carefully made my way along the shelves. It was one thing to be brave in my thoughts,
and it was another to potentially defy a mage who could magically clean a room in an instant.
According to my limited studies, magic required intention, precision, and control; cleaning a complicated room like this meant
the mage had a surplus of all three.
I had none of the three. Or, if I did, they didn’t work correctly. My magic responded to desperation and little else. But
perhaps this library held the answers I’d been searching for.
The shelf that had been the cleanest when I’d first entered was crammed full of books on magic, monsters, and curses. It wasn’t
exactly light reading, but it would be worth it if I could figure out what other monsters might be lurking in the woods.
I ran my finger along the spines, letting intuition guide me, and stopped when one of the books hummed under my fingertip.
The book was old and well worn. The red leather cover had cracked along the spine and the pages felt brittle.
When I flipped it open, I stared in astonishment until the words went blurry and I had to blink them back into focus. It wasn’t a book of magic—it was a book of fairy tales.
I thumbed through the pages and my throat tightened. My mother had died giving birth to me, so I had no memory of her, but
my father had done his best to fill the gap in our lives. He’d taught me how to cook and sew and chop wood and catch fish.
Then, every night without fail, he’d soothed me to sleep with a story.
These were the stories he’d told me, bound into a book that was nearly a perfect match to the one hidden in my pack.
Grief hollowed my chest, and I curled around the tome, protecting it from my tears. One tiny crack in my armor was all it
took for the last few days to catch up with me. I sank to the floor as the tears became a flood.
I’d been forced to leave my home and fight a monster alone—by people I’d thought of as friends. And if the mage hadn’t arrived,
I would have died.
I owed my life to a dangerous stranger who scowled ferociously but also gave me boots.
The clicking of claws on the floor brought me back to myself. I didn’t want the mage—whose name I still didn’t know—to find
me bawling like a child. Some things were not meant for public ridicule.
I set the book aside and hastily wiped my cheeks. Grim came around the shelf with a sturdy handkerchief clamped in his jaws.
He eased closer, looking as disgruntled as I felt, and the last of my sadness melted away. I smiled and gestured at the handkerchief.
“Is that for me?”
Grim dropped the cloth in my lap. It was only slightly drooled on, so I used one of the clean corners to wipe my face. “Thank
you,” I whispered.
The wolf, who was now the size of a dog, curled up next to me and rested his head on my thigh. His ears twitched, and I wondered
if he could hear something I couldn’t.
“If I pet you, are you going to bite my hand off?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I slowly reached for him and scratched behind his ears. His fur was coarse and dense, and it seemed to absorb light. In the dark, he would be nearly invisible.
“Have you been terrorizing the local villagers?” I asked softly.
The wolf huffed out a sound somewhere between a chuff and a snort that didn’t answer the question at all.