The Library Below
SEVRIN
The library was below the east wing, past a corridor that smelled of damp and old wood and something mineral that belonged to the castle's foundations rather than its contents.
Aviaryn had not waited for him. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs she was already moving through the shelves, her bare feet silent on the stone.
He moved toward the histories. It was where he always moved first in any library, where his father had taught him to always go. Where a king should go if anything in the library is to be worth his time.
"That section is dull," Aviaryn said without looking at him.
He looked at her. "You have read them?"
"It is unnecessary." She ran her finger along a row of spines without stopping. "They are mostly about men who did not do much other than hurt people to get what they want." She glanced at him. "I imagine you are already quite skilled at that."
He said nothing.
She crossed the room and took his wrist without asking and pulled him away from the histories. Her grip was small and certain. She released him the moment he started moving, as though redirecting him had been the only purpose.
She rejected three sections without explanation, paused at a fourth and considered it, then moved on. At the far end of the library, in a low alcove that the light barely reached, she stopped.
The books here were smaller. Older. Several had illustrations visible through cracked spines, the colors faded but still present.
She pulled three from the shelf and looked at them carefully, one at a time, her expression focused and solemn.
"Has anyone ever read you a story?" she said.
He considered that. "No."
"Have you ever read anyone a story?"
"No," he replied.
She looked at him. "Then you are inexperienced in the matter." She tucked the books under her arm. "I will find someone to assist me first. Once I learn how, perhaps I will read one to you."
He raised an eyebrow.
She paused. "But only if you do something about your strength." She said firmly. "You are so weak that even the weakest guards here could kill you. And then I would not have a friend at Kelsey to share my stories with." She paused. "And then you would be of no use to me."
He could not hide his surprise. "A friend?"
She sighed as though he had missed something obvious. "I have not had one before and mother seems to think they are preferable to playing barefoot in the tunnels."
Sevrin did not know what to say to that.
"Besides," she added, "if you wish to find out what my mother truly wants, you will need strength before she shows her hand." She looked at the books. "She does not waste her time on the weak."
He could not entirely hide his surprise. "Your mother wishes me harm?"
Aviaryn shrugged. "I do not know. I do not think so.
But if she decides it is easier to harm you than to align with you, you would be a convenient target.
" She said it without particular concern.
"It is a shame you are so weak that you need to go there at all.
I hear it smells like dead things, which would make sense, I suppose.
" Another shrug. "Luckily I do not need it.
In fact, I have never been there at all," she said it with something like pride.
"I was raised here and I am strong enough on blood alone.
It is those of you not born here that need the Bloodhaven to reach even mediocre levels of strength. "
He said nothing to that.
They moved back toward the stairs. His chest ached at the climb but he did not slow. Aviaryn did not appear to notice or chose not to comment, which amounted to the same thing.
At the top of the stairs a bell rang somewhere in the castle's upper levels. She turned to him.
"Have you left your chambers at all before now?"
"No."
She frowned. "Now that you have shown you can walk," she said, "you will need to eat at the table tonight."
"That will not be necessary."
She turned to face him fully. "Your enemies could be anywhere. Even here in Morrath." She held his eyes. "How will you find them if you continue to hide?"
He looked at her and could not think of an answer that would be sufficient.
"Fine," he said. "Dinner it is."
She turned and walked back down the corridor toward her rooms, the books still tucked under her arm.
He watched her go.
Then he started the walk back to his chambers to dress for dinner. It was a short walk and his chest reminded him of that with every step.
He did not slow down.