The Monster
Chapter Three
THE MONSTER
Ceri
C eri could see nothing in the darkened library, but she could feel something reaching for her on the floor.
It grabbed her by the arms.
“Don’t move,” said a voice.
Ceri screamed, trying to back away.
She heard the snap of a switch behind her, and the room was flooded with light, bright and blinding.
Ceri whirred around, squinting, looking for whatever had pursued her, but there were only the two people from earlier: the librarian Ms. Redclaw, who was wheeling away from the light switch she’d just turned on, and the young elf she’d been yelling at, who was with Ceri on the floor.
“Now look what you’ve done,” said Ms. Redclaw.
Ceri and the elf sat in the middle of a real mess: shards of ceramic (formerly a teacup, Ceri guessed) littered over scattered books and scrolls, which were drenched with a dark liquid. The elf was picking up a metallic instrument Ceri did not recognize, bending a rod back into place with a frown.
“Are you alright?” he asked, only then glancing up at Ceri. His voice was soft with the hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place, his tone seemingly unconcerned, as if this sort of thing happened to him every day.
She nodded slowly, her heart still pounding in her ears. “Tea?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and breathless as she touched the cool, dark patch soaking into her brand-new shirt.
“Oh dear.” He sighed, reaching for a handkerchief. “I’m sorry; that’s going to stain. It’s coffee. Well, it was coffee. And tea. I steep my tea in coffee.”
Ceri regarded this bizarre, highly caffeinated stranger she had taken for a monster moments earlier.
As far as monsters went, she had to admit he was fairly non-threatening. He was tall—she could tell just from the proportion of his limbs even as he continued to gather up the things on the floor—and quite thin. His golden hair was disheveled by the collision and his tie was askew, but his clothes had been generally well-kept apart from their current mishap. As she watched him, he slid his wire-rimmed spectacles up his freckled nose and back into position. The color in his face seemed to drain from it as he looked through them at Ceri.
There was a version of Ceri that would have lashed out at him or mocked him for his clumsiness. It’s what her father would have done. But she could see there was nothing monstrous in the elf. And honestly, now that she saw the threat for what it was, she found the whole thing somewhat amusing. “At least it wasn’t hot,” she said.
Ceri shifted backwards to pull herself up, but the elf cried out, “Be careful,” reaching for Ceri’s hand just before she put it down on a shard of broken mug.
Ceri froze under his touch.
It had been ages since anyone had touched her so casually. Doing so was a grave offense—wait, didn’t he recognize her?
“You’re not from Loegria, are you?” said Ceri. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. She could still feel the shadow of his fingertips when they parted.
“Is it so obvious?” He laughed. “I’ve been here for a while now.”
Not long enough to recognize Loegrian royalty, clearly.
“Who’s there?” asked Ms. Redclaw. She had retrieved some kind of grabbing stick and wheeled over to help sort out the rest of the mess. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be. Are they alright?”
Ceri turned her back to Ms. Redclaw to prevent the old human from getting a better look at her.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Not a scratch on me.”
Ms. Redclaw reached around Ceri with the grabbing stick, picking up an undamaged book and sliding it back onto a shelf. “Leorias, I’ve told you time and time again. It doesn’t like you. It doesn’t want you here.”
Leorias. That must have been the elf’s name. But what did Ms. Redclaw mean by “it” not liking him?
“I know,” said Leorias. “But I need the library for my research. I’ve tried to let it know I’m not a threat.”
To let what know?
“But you are a threat. Just look what you’ve done to these books,” said Ms. Redclaw, picking up a drenched volume titled A History of Astronomical Curses.
“I’m sorry,” said Ceri. She looked between the two of them. “Are you talking about the library?”
“Are you a new student?” asked Ms. Redclaw. “You’re a bit early, aren’t you? Unless—”
Ceri could see the idea dawning on Ms. Redclaw. Perhaps Dean Whittaker had told her she was coming. “A new student, yes,” she said, hoping to interrupt Ms. Redclaw’s thoughts. “I took the wrong rail-wheeler and arrived a day early.”
They didn’t know who she was. They really didn’t know.
“The library has a mind of its own, dear,” said Ms. Redclaw. “You’ll get to know it well during your time here, Ms.?”
Ceri glanced around and picked two names off of books on the nearby shelves at random: “Ms. Ethel Higglebottom.”
Ethel Higglebottom? Oh Gods, what was she doing?
“Higglebottom? Is that a gnomish name?” asked Ms. Redclaw.
“Er, my father was adopted into a family of gnomes,” said Ceri.
She sighed. Yes, she’d wanted to start over, but she hadn’t intended to pretend to be someone else entirely. She was just intrigued by the idea of not being recognized, of being treated just like an ordinary student for a bit, but things were already getting out of hand.
Just then, something fell from a shelf to the floor, narrowly missing the wet patch left by the tea coffee. It was a book, although Ceri couldn’t see where it could have come from.
“ The Royal Family of Loegria and Wilderise, Past and Present ,” said Leorias, reading the title.
He glanced up at Ceri. “Is this one for you? Were you planning to study history?”
Ceri snatched the book away from him before he could look inside—who knew which portrait of her they used? Any of them were problematic at the moment, anyway. “Yes,” she said. “History. That’s right.”
It took her a moment to understand why he’d asked her if the book was for her. “You said the library has a mind of its own. Did it give that book to me?”
“Yes,” said Ms. Redclaw, smiling and patting a nearby shelf. “No one knows why, exactly, but I like to think of it as an old friend that knows what you need. Sometimes it knows better than even you do. Unless, of course, you’ve done something to upset it.” She glared her clouded eyes in the rough direction of Leorias.
“I swear I’ve done nothing to it, Ms. Redclaw,” said Leorias.
Ceri believed he was telling the truth. Or at least he believed his own lie.
She was, unfortunately, something of an expert when it came to lying.
She retrieved the book on royalty from under her arm and thumbed through the pages. Is this how she really wanted to start things out? With more lies?
Near the back, she found the portrait of the current royal family. It was an old portrait, taken with a picture-taker five years earlier on the last of her mother’s visits to Loegria, back before she’d given up on maintaining the charade of the marriage with Ceri’s father for once and for all.
King Derkomai sat in the center, tall and grand in his crown and royal regalia, the piercing blue of his eyes coming through even in black and white. Queen Yuling sat to his left, her face joyless, her hand gripping Ceri’s arm tightly. Prince Idris sat to the right of their father, but he was exactly a mirror image of their mother, both in features and in his tense posture. Only the fifteen-year-old Ceri, seated in front of her mother, looked relaxed in the picture. Her face was a bit rounder then, but she looked much as she did today: she had her mother’s almond eyes and gently sloping nose but her father’s coloring—blue eyes, pale skin, and hair that had been silver since birth.
Ceri remembered the day of the portrait well. She had been convinced that her mother was coming back to stay for good, or that this time, she’d take Ceri with her when she left.
Neither of those things was true. But to be fair to Queen Yuling, it wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part, as Ceri had come to understand only recently.
“This is me,” said Ceri, handing the book to Leorias. “The message was for you.”
She watched Leorias as he read the names and looked at the portrait, putting it together. “Princess Ceridwen, second in line to the throne,” he said. He looked down at her through his spectacles. “This is you.”
“Yes,” said Ceri.
“Princess Ceridwen?” asked Ms. Redclaw. “Forgive me, your royal highness.” She bowed her head forward as best as she could in deference. “I didn’t recognize you. Why didn’t you say?”
“Probably because of that reaction,” muttered Leorias. Ceri caught his eye, and he startled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I said—”
“No, you’re exactly right,” said Ceri. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to say it, but for a moment, she felt seen. “I’m sorry for the deception. I’m accustomed to being recognized. It was nice, for a moment, to be whoever I wanted to be.”
“And you chose Esther Higglebottom, student of history,” said Leorias, amused. Ceri noticed then that even after she’d told him who she was, he hadn’t bowed.
“Ethel,” Ceri corrected. “Where are you from, Leorias? Is it ‘Lord’ Leorias?” Ceri had known few elves that couldn’t claim some sort of title. Most were styled “Lord” or “Lady,” although some had higher titles, either in the Loegrian court or within their own elvish courts.
“Not ‘Lord’ Leorias, no. ‘Leo’ is fine. I’m from Gallia.”
Well, that explained the lack of courtesy. Gallia, the country across the southern sea, famously removed their monarchs and their courts more than a century earlier.
Removed their heads, to be precise.
Ceri rubbed at her neck involuntarily. “Gallia? I hope my presence doesn’t offend you. I’ve heard your people don’t care much for royalty.”
“ Au contraire ,” said Leo. “Most Gallic find royalty quaint. Charming. A relic from a bygone era. Not that you’re a relic, per se.” He looked down, blushing. “Not that you’re quaint.”
“Charming, then?” offered Ceri.
Another book fell to the floor. Leo went for it, but Ceri got there first.
“ Courtship in the Modern Era: An Etiquette Guide for Young People,” she read aloud. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
She contemplated hurling the book across the room. This library had some nerve. Just what was it suggesting with that offering?
She hadn’t been thinking anything of the sort. Not that Leo wasn’t handsome. He was an elf—of course he was handsome. But that also meant he was many years her senior, although they did say elves matured more slowly, and he seemed to be a student still of some kind, so he couldn’t have been too much older than her in mental age if not actual age.
But none of that mattered because she was here to study, not to court men. No matter how incredibly handsome and slightly awkward and somewhat charming they might be.
Ceri looked at Leo, who immediately tore away his glance and began to contemplate the binding on the book about royalty with some intensity.
Ms. Redclaw cleared her throat.
“Right,” said Leo, purposefully not looking at Ceri or the book. “I better be going. I’ve got a lot to do to—and first, I’ve got to get these books dry enough to even know where to start.”
“Oh,” said Ceri. “I guess since you know who I am, I can help with that.”
Ceri looked down at the stain on her shirt and removed it, pulling the dark liquid from it and into a ball in the air. It was one of the few uses of magic King Derkomai tolerated: although he generally hated magic, he permitted his own family to use it to avoid embarrassment.
Then she held out her hands, gesturing to the books, papers, and handkerchiefs they had used to clean up the mess on the floor. The droplets of tea coffee flew out of each object, joining the ball suspended in the air.
“ Incroyable, ” said Leo.
“I can’t do anything about the cup, I’m afraid,” said Ceri. “That’s beyond my skill.”
Ms. Redclaw showed Ceri to a sink in the back behind the library counter, where she dropped the floating ball of liquid down the drain.
When they returned, Leo was still there. He’d taken a leather-bound journal from the now-dry stack of books and papers and was scribbling furiously with a pen.
“Would you be willing—” Leo began as she approached him. “No, never mind.”
“What is it?” asked Ceri.
“No, it’s too much to ask. You’ve already done enough. Thank you for cleaning up my mess.”
“Yes, thank you, your highness,” said Ms. Redclaw. “I hope to see again soon.”
Ms. Redclaw wheeled back behind the counter, leaving her alone with Leo.
“Tell me what you wanted to ask me,” said Ceri once Ms. Redclaw was out of earshot.
It was purely out of curiosity that she insisted on hearing it. Ceri couldn’t stand unanswered questions any more than she could stand unopened doors. It had absolutely nothing to do with the library’s suggested reading. Nothing at all.
“It’s just…your magic,” said Leo. “I research magic. It’s why I’m here at Winwold and not back at one of the renowned Gallic universities. They have discarded magic for reason, for science. They claim the time of magic has passed.”
“My father holds the same opinion of magic. ‘Useless and unreliable superstitious nonsense.’ Unless one of the royals needs it, of course,” said Ceri.
Leo shook his head. “But what if magic and science are the same thing? What if they’re two sides of the same coin? I’ve been trying to study magic as a form of energy, as a potential power source. Perhaps magic and science need not be at odds at all. But the universities in Gallia think it’s best if we leave magic behind us in the past, and even here, there’s an idea that magic is different from the rest of the natural world, and that it can’t be understood by the same means. I think they’re wrong. There’s so much still to learn if we’re open to it, just so much untapped potential—”
Leo’s face had animated when talking about his research. His lovely green eyes were dancing with energy behind his spectacles. Golden strands of his hair fell onto his cheeks from his movement, highlighting their symmetry. He had leaned forward without realizing it, his hands gesturing so enthusiastically that he brushed Ceri’s arm again.
“Sorry,” he said, backing away with a shy smile. “I get a little too passionate about my research.”
Why are elves so beautiful? It’s really unfair of them , Ceri thought. It was very distracting.
“What do you need from me?” she asked. She tried to ignore that phantom feeling where his hand had touched her again.
Here to study, she reminded herself.
“Well, I have an instrument here,” said Leo, holding up the little brass device that he’d picked up from the ground when they collided. “It’s my own design. I’ve been using it to measure magical potential. I was preparing to take readings tonight. It’s the peak of a meteor shower; I have some enchanted objects I was hoping to measure during a celestial event. But if you’d allow it, I’d love to measure, well, you. Your magic.” Leo looked meekly at Ceri. “It won’t hurt,” he said, reaching out a hand to her and quickly withdrawing it. He used it to brush the hair back from his face instead, which Ceri thought was a shame.
“During the meteor shower?” she asked.
Leo looked surprised. “I was thinking of later this week, but if you’d be willing to come along tonight…it will be late though, and it’s a bit of a hike up to the observatory. I understand if you’re not up for it.”
“Would it help you?” asked Ceri.
This was her chance to be the new Ceri. The kind, selfless Ceri who didn’t lie or cheat or manipulate anyone. She could help Leo purely out of the kindness of her heart.
Or, not her heart, per se, not that there was anything going on with her heart, other than the near heart-attack she’d had earlier when she thought he was a monster.
“It would help me very much,” said Leo.
“Then I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful! Meet me after dinner by the Norminster Yew. The old tree in the courtyard.”
Ceri nodded, and then she turned and fled from the library before she could say anything that might embarrass her. She left in such a hurry that she went the wrong way and had to walk around half of the school to get back to her room.
Safely behind her closed door, she removed her shirt. The stain was gone, but the wrinkles remained, and she wouldn’t show up to her first dinner looking untidy.
As she spotted herself in the bathroom looking glass wearing her new white lace brassiere, she remembered that it was Gallic in design. Leo’s bright, excited face crossed her mind, along with the shadow feeling of his hand on hers.
“Godsdammit,” she said. She didn’t know much, but she knew it wasn’t a great sign to be thinking of him in her underwear already if she was trying to focus on her studies.
This boy was trouble.