Chapter Twelve
Olympia
It was against protocol and manners and damn near everything else to keep me waiting and yet here I was.
I stood outside the gates of the House of Harlow, tapping my foot impatiently on the cobblestones as the pale boy in the white robes scurried inside with wide eyes to relay my message.
I’d promised Milo I would be nice and I had been.
I hadn’t technically threatened anyone, just insinuated how quickly a house full of books was likely to go up in flames under the right conditions.
Then I’d casually dropped the cue that the Heir to a Major House had been trying to get in contact with them and acolyte-of-the-year had gotten the hint.
Now, I only had to wait, but waiting was the worst part and I’d never been particularly patient. I’d paced for a time, hands on my hips, but tired of that quickly. So instead I stood scowling at the front door and tapping my foot to release the restless energy of my growing frustration.
“Olympia?”
Finally. My gaze snapped to the man exiting the House.
He was well dressed in a freshly pressed suit, hair coiffed and flopping to one side.
He wore spectacles that reminded me of Milo but he didn’t push them up constantly like my cousin as he approached.
His eyes swept over me and I got the impression he was distinctly unimpressed.
I bristled but reminded myself to be calm, to play nice.
“I’m told you asked to speak with me,” he said. His tone was a lazy drawl, so monotone it was almost disrespectful.
“You’re Jude?” I asked, raising a brow nonchalantly to show that I was equally unimpressed.
“I am. I’m assuming this has to do with your Heir’s requests for information?”
I didn’t answer because obviously it did. Why else would I be here? Instead, I pursed my lips and waited.
“If we had anything to send, I assure you it would have been sent upon the first request,” he said after a moment.
“And yet, you didn’t answer at all,” I replied easily, not swayed by his evasiveness. “If it’s your House’s mysterious reputation you seek to uphold, I can assure you that Avus is not amused. We didn’t ask for anything unreasonable, just information about members of our own House.”
“Which we don’t have.”
I raised a brow.
“We’re willing to negotiate terms that are more…collaborative in nature,” I told him then, trying another tactic Milo had authorized me to use days ago when we’d discussed this very meeting.
His expression didn’t change but I saw the interest flare behind his eyes.
“More collaborative than threatening to burn our House down if I don’t come to the door?” he asked.
I bit down on the urge to smirk back at him as I answered.
“Much,” I said. “Milo is a firm believer in the old adage ‘knowledge is power’. There’s nothing he hates more than ignorance, specifically his own.
Should you begin responding to our requests, we’ll allow you to make your own.
You could be the first Minor House to ever have access to a Major House’s library.
As a show of our intention to follow through on this mutually beneficial new relationship, we’ve brought you a gift, to be returned, of course. ”
I snapped my fingers and Paxon, who’d been standing nearly on the other side of the ring to avoid being seen by Jude or any other House of Harlowe member, stepped forward.
His scowl at having been snapped at had me suppressing a snort as he approached and held out a dusty old book.
Jude glanced down at it before looking back up to me.
“The personal devotional journal of High Priest Naser from the 1530s,” I announced and watched as the scholar’s eyes bulged at both the name and the date.
“A show of gratitude and our dedication to seeing this knowledge-sharing expedition to be a fruitful one. The more exchanges you allow, the loftier titles you will have access to. This is just a sample of what we have available.”
He took the book gently and turned it over to stare down at the cover. Paxon withdrew slightly to stand behind me, hands clasped behind his back and waiting. I watched as Jude opened the book and scanned the first page. He took a breath before looking back up at me.
“Collaboration,” he said.
“Access,” I replied with a nod.
He considered for a moment longer, then suddenly snapped the book shut and gestured toward the gate.
“Please, come with me,” he said.
Beside me, Paxon stiffened. I fought my own surprise as I made my way through the gates of the House of Harlowe as the first outsider to enter their grounds in known history.
Paxon hesitated before following as well and I noticed a few lower ringers who’d been passing by on their way to shifts serving the Second Ringers stop and stare as well.
Even servants weren’t invited into the House of Harlowe.
They’d always managed themselves with absolutely no outside help.
It was the most mysterious of Minor Houses by far, even more closed off than the First Ring, and now I was setting foot on the well-kept path to the front door.
Jude closed the gate behind us before hurrying to the front door and leading the way into the massive House.
The House of Harlowe was long where the others were tall and had almost no decor on the outside.
No blossoms like the House of Chasina or golden piety like the House of Alosia.
There wasn’t a thirty-foot tall stature of their namesake or bronze swords decorating every inch of their gate.
It was a simple behemoth, stretching three times longer than any of the other houses in the ring but not rising nearly so high.
The only luxury it claimed was to be crafted entirely of smooth, shining marble all in one piece.
Jude led us to a front door, which was hidden behind a jutting lip of the marble, and nodded to a guard wearing the House of Harlowe crest on his breast. The guard showed no surprise at mine and Paxon’s presence but merely nodded back to his leader as Jude opened the door and held it for my cousin and I to enter.
“You won’t be permitted to access the library as a whole,” Jude informed us as we stepped into a simple, yet elegant foyer. “You can wait in here while I retrieve whatever I can find suitable for your Heir’s request.”
“Which you claimed didn’t exist,” I reminded him.
He merely smirked and strode off in the opposite direction.
Paxon and I turned toward the sitting room he’d gestured toward upon our entry.
There were a few couches settled in corners and against the far walls but, mostly, the space was occupied by little desks and modest chairs in front of them.
Each desk had a lamp with a pull string attached hanging over it for late night reading and offered privacy screens in the form of wooden blockades between them.
“This is less exciting than I imagined,” Paxon muttered from beside me as we entered the sitting room and I snorted.
“The House of Harlowe isn’t known for its interior design prowess,” I replied, settling into a chair beside a desk facing the door.
“We’re lucky we were allowed in at all. It was a risky play, offering a research alliance.
He could have laughed in our face and said they had more information here than we could ever possibly hope to offer them and we wouldn’t even know if he was right. ”
Paxon shook his head in disagreement.
“Those who seek knowledge always seek more,” he said.
“Look at Milo. He doesn’t even sleep anymore and I’m certain he’s read every book in the library.
I can’t imagine what could possibly be so important he would offer access to our family heritage to a Minor House.
And so soon after giving the Bexleys free reign–”
“Not here,” I snapped, glancing around to ensure we were still alone.
Paxon stopped speaking immediately. He knew as well as I that the Bexleys’ new status as privileged visitors of the First Ring and House Avus itself was not yet widely known.
But his concern for Milo’s latest unprecedented decisions was valid.
My cousin was changing the course of history and that would always breed doubt and misgivings among those who weren’t quite ready, but it didn’t mean he was wrong.
He needed the support of his family now more than ever.
So Paxon needed to bring his issues to Milo directly, rather than discussing them here with me in foreign territory where anyone could be listening.
“Talk to him,” I said.
Paxon’s gaze swept to me but, after a moment, he nodded.
We sat in silence for what felt like forever before Jude reappeared with a teenager in tow.
Her arms were loaded with books of various bindings, all of which appeared to be exceptionally old.
She stared at us, wide eyed, and I wondered how often she got out of her elusive house to see anyone beyond it.
Jude dismissed her with a wave of his hand the moment she set the books down on the desk in front of me.
She scurried out of the room without a word, glancing back one more time when she reached the door before disappearing into the hall on the other side.
“These are the books we have in our possession which may or may not contain references to your ancestor, Eximius,” Jude announced. “You are welcome to peruse them here for as long as you wish. You may not, however, remove them from the premises. That is non-negotiable.”
Paxon and I exchanged matching frowns, realizing we were in for a long day of research neither of us signed up for. That was Milo’s forte, but an Heir couldn’t be seen stooping to the lower rings for any reason. Paxon and I were in agreement on that. We would have to investigate on his behalf.
“There is…another matter which may be of interest to you,” Jude said slowly, looking between us. “It’s the reason why I didn’t answer your Heir’s correspondences.”
He pulled a small leather bound journal from within his jacket and set it down in front of me.
I watched him for another moment, waiting for an explanation, but he only stared right back.
So I reached out and opened the journal, allowing my eyes to drop to the loose page sitting within the interior of the book before me.
To the House of Harlowe,
I’ve entrusted my most loyal acolyte to deliver this journal into your capable hands.
No one can ever know it left my House, specifically my family, whom I love but whose ambition I feel may overcome their sense.
In these pages are my thoughts, memories, and experiences throughout my twenty seven years as patriarch of House Avus.
I am trusting you with the task of entombing them within your library so that none but your own descendants may pass it by on your many shelves.
Hopefully, it will fade into obscurity and be forgotten as so many accounts often are.
The fact of the matter is that I’ve become rather paranoid as of late.
I’ve begun to hear voices, one in particular, at all hours of the night and day.
He professes himself to be some sort of god, though not one I’ve ever heard of, and he attempts to issue me commands which I, of course, never follow.
However, I feel that my mental state is slipping.
He is more persistent as time goes on and, should I lose myself to the madness, I wouldn’t wish his intrusion upon the minds of any of my kin. But I feel a record must be kept.
Within these pages, you will read about my rise to patriarchy at a young age and the blissful years that followed.
But you will also read about the turmoil of the city and that within my own mind as this illness has progressed.
He came to me first ten years ago, around the same time the first rumblings of an uprising began.
He has plagued me ever since, as have the rebels.
Should this city fall, it will crumble under divinity.
But I will do my best to hold it together until then.
I trust you to keep my secrets and wish you good health.
Sincerely,
Eximius, Patriarch of House Avus
I looked up at Jude, blinking slowly and remaining perfectly still.
“You had this the whole time?” I asked. “For five hundred years, you’ve had this in your library. You’ve known you had this in your library.”
“My ancestors were entrusted with the safekeeping of this journal by the patriarch of House Avus,” Jude replied, head held high, confident. “You yourself issued a reminder only moments ago that it was not wise or prudent to ignore a command from the High Houses.”
“Milo requested–”
“And now you have it. Is there anything else I can do for you, honored visitors?”
I frowned at him, fighting the urge to snap right back at this snooty asshole, but Paxon’s arm brushed mine in gentle reminder and I forced a smile through gritted teeth.
“That’ll be all,” I grumbled. “Thank you.”
Jude bowed once before turning and striding right out of the room. I turned to Paxon the moment he was gone.
“Can you believe that asshole?” I asked.
Paxon snorted before grabbing a chair and pulling it up beside me.
“Actually, I can,” he replied, “but right now I’m way more interested in what’s in that journal.”
I looked down at the faded old note, leaned forward, and reached out to turn the page.
“Me too.”