Chapter 46
Beau strides into my room right as Acker finishes pulling on his shirt from the night before. “Ah, so this is what the maidservants were chattering about this morning,” she remarks, smile downright mischievous.
“He was just leaving,” I say, cringing at the panic in my voice.
Acker’s cloying eyes cut to me still lounging in the bed. Even after the night of kissing followed by the deepest sleep I think I’ve had in my entire life, my cheeks burn. It only serves to make his smile grow.
“Yuck.” She sticks out her tongue while making a nauseating gagging sound. “Get a room.”
Acker is far less amused by his sister’s antics. “You’re standing in it.”
Falling into one of the chairs, she lifts a brow. “Better?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of our father, would you?” he asks, taking the chair opposite her to put his shoes on.
“Not a clue,” she says. “Haven’t seen him since we got back. Thank the gods.” The last line is uttered under her breath.
Acker doesn’t like her answer, but he fixes a careful smile on his face.
“Be good to Jovie today, yeah?”
Beau smiles. “I shall take her under my wing.”
Although she means it to be a teasingly mild threat, I can see the gratitude in Acker’s eyes as he dips a nod to her. He stands and walks to the bed, leaning over with his hands braced on either side of my legs.
“Take today to rest. Explore the palace. Eat,” he says, smiling at the low growl emanating from my belly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m taking you down
to start training.” He leans close, placing soft lips on mine. “I’m eager to see you with a sword in your hand.”
I internally groan at the thought but let him kiss me anyway.
“Is that an innuendo?” Beau asks, face scrunched in disgust.
Laughing, I push Acker away with a hand against his chest. “Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to, Beau.”
Beau gags again, maybe for real this time, and Acker laughs as he walks to the door. Her eyes don’t leave him until the door clicks shut, hiding him from view, and I’m surprised by the worry in her expression when she looks at me.
She’s quick to blink it away. “Are we staying in bed all day?”
As much as I love the prospect, my stomach is all but screaming at me to feed it. Beau waits while I use the bathroom and get dressed. The soft pants and matching blue top fit me to perfection. I find I’m unable to stop myself from running my hands over the fabric. Compared to the rough, simple cuts of fabric from Alaha, it’s going to take time to get used to.
“Boys.” Beau greets the guards outside my door on our way out. “Take off the rest of the day.”
My least favorite of the two glares at me before departing.
Beau watches their backs retreat down the hallway before looking at me. “What was that about?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, honestly. “But I don’t like him.”
“Me neither. His aura is unpleasant. You should tell Acker.”
“Why?”
“They’re his men.” She turns and leads us in the opposite direction of how I was escorted to my room last night. “Our father wanted to put a collar on you, but Acker convinced him to let two men in his ranks keep
watch over you instead.”
“A collar?”
She touches the base of her neck. “A suppressor to dull your magic.
Anyone with gifts who isn’t part of the palace retinue is required to wear one, but your lack of control worries the regents. They think you’re too dangerous without the proper training.”
We pass a maidservant exiting one of the other doors lining the hallway.
She freezes, bedding pulled in close to her chest and gaze stuck on me as we pass, like she’s too scared to move. I’m quick to avert my eyes.
“Don’t do that,” Beau chides. “Don’t cower.”
I know that I shouldn’t, logically, but I just … hate the idea of making anyone uncomfortable.
Beau stops, sharp eyes pinning me in place. “Their apprehension toward you isn’t your doing and it’s not your problem. Got it?”
I’m momentarily stunned by the sharpness and force of her beauty, smiling at the contradiction with her admonishing words. “You’re paying awfully close attention to my aura.”
She rolls her eyes, but I spot the grin as we resume our pace. “It’s extra loud today.”
I don’t need to ask what she means, because I can practically see the contentment radiating from me even without the help of magic like Beau’s, knowing the cause for my bliss is due the man who slept in my bed last night.
Beau takes me down to the kitchen, bypassing the breakfast being served in the dining hall.
“Full of braggers and tattletales,” she says.
There’s a noticeable unease in the kitchen staff, but they loosen up in Beau’s presence. It’s obvious they’re well acquainted with her, and she inquires about the growing baby bump of one of the scullery maids, which further alleviates the worry in the air. We’re served full plates of eggs and sausage and these little flat cakes with a sugar dressing that they call pancakes. A moan escapes my mouth, and they all titter at my reddening cheeks.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” I tell them.
Henry, the cook, slaps a rag against the butcher block counter before moving on to his next task. “You’ve yet to be truly amazed, princess. Just you wait.”
I’m only able to finish a quarter of the portions served to me, but they don’t seem to find it rude as they clear away my dishes. Next, Beau gives me a tour. We start in the state room, the place where the king greeted us
upon our arrival. It branches off from there into four quadrants, like a rounded-off square with a massive courtyard in the middle. My room, as I learn, is on the west end of the complex.
As we continue to traverse the corridors, I begin to discover that the majority of the palace is unoccupied. Rooms sit fully furnished but empty.
It’s nauseatingly wasteful in comparison to the cramped living quarters of Alaha where people have to live in one room stacked on top of another like fish in a can.
Beau explains how the king keeps his closest advisors at court year round, but most lords and other nobility of Kenta only stay for short periods at a time when needed. Most came when the king sent word of my pending arrival, so the palace is fuller than it’s been in decades. We find the majority of the current tenants are congregated along the inner corridor that overlooks the courtyard.
Heads turn and watch as we walk past the crowd. We could be vagrants in comparison. Dressed in opulent dresses and silks, the women and men look like they’re dressed for a party, not to stroll along the promenade.
Even so, I maintain my steady gait, keep my gaze forward, and remind myself of Beau’s words.
The passageway gives a perfect vantage point from which to spectate as the soldiers train in the courtyard below. The clang of metal and grunts of effort echo up the open palace walls. Set up in different training stations, soldiers perform conditioning and strengthening exercises very similar to the ones we do in Alaha.
I scan the soldiers, stopping when I spot Acker standing amongst the fray, watching a sparring match in the center of the courtyard. He leans toward Hallis, commenting on the match, arms folded across the dampened shirt of his chest. His skin is flushed, skin glistening with sweat in the midday sun. I swallow the excess moisture in my mouth.
As if he senses me nearby, his eyes rise in my direction, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he catches me watching from the veranda.
Hallis notices Acker’s diverted attention, eyes following to our location, and he also smirks when he spots us.
Beau huffs a breath of annoyance. “Men are insufferable creatures,” she says, giving them her back. “Is there anything else you’re interested in
seeing?”
“The library.”
It’s a long walk to the uppermost level. The doors stand open as if inviting lost wanderers and scholars alike to step inside. The smell hits me first, assaulting me with the slightly dusty aroma of ink and paper and worn leather. Books and scrolls line the shelves along the curved walls, drawing the eyes toward the steepled ceiling above.
“Good gods,” I whisper in awe.
A female voice draws my attention back to the ground. “Don’t forget about the bad ones too.” Smirking over the gold rims of her glasses, the woman stands from behind the circular desk in the center of the space.
“Everyone’s always muttering about the good gods, but the bad ones are way more interesting.”
Beau parks herself on the edge of the desk, metal rope clanging against its wooden top. “If you believe in fairy tales.”
“I’m a librarian, darling. Of course I do.”
They embrace, hugging for a beat before letting go. “Mother,” Beau says. “Meet Jovie, the lost princess of Maile.”
Mother … meaning Beau and Acker aren’t full siblings.
“Jovie, please meet my mother, Greta.”
Beau’s mother walks to me, reaching for and clasping my hands in hers.
“It is my utmost pleasure,” she says, placing her forehead against the back of my hands.
It catches me off guard, and I look to Beau for guidance, but all she does is give a half shrug in response, not at all surprised by her mother’s greeting.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I manage to say.
“My apologies,” Greta says, releasing me and pushing the frames of her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I can be a lot. That’s why they sequester me in the library.”
Beau’s voice comes out sardonic. “That’s not why.”
“Hush,” Greta spits out of the corner of her mouth.
My eyes catch on the necklace at the base of her throat, tortoiseshell and shiny in the light pouring in from the windows above. I realize it’s made of mangi stone.
“What can I help you with?” she asks, eyes bright.
“Uh, I’m not sure, actually.” My eyes go back to the book-lined walls.
“I’ve only ever read about libraries, never seen one.”
This horrifies Greta. Absolutely, profoundly horrifies her.
“Let me give you the grand tour,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her.
Beau smiles at her overzealous mother. “She’s not big on personal boundaries,” she comments as she begins to follow.
“Not true,” Greta insists, though Beau’s face says otherwise.
Greta leads us up the staircase that carves a path through the laden book shelves along the walls. There are landings spread out at regular intervals as the staircase rises around the perimeter of the main floor, designed to be used as quiet sitting spaces or provide access to desks slotted into cleverly designed alcoves in the shelves, so the reader is physically immersed within the library as they simultaneously bury minds in the pages of the books.
By the time we reach the top, I’m slightly out of breath. The weeks of travel have done a number on my stamina, and I already know training is going to be a special form of hell in the morning.
“So,” Greta says, waving her fingers about. “What will it be? Do you prefer mystery? Drama? Maybe a little romance?” She wiggles her eyebrows at the last suggestion, but none of the categories mentioned are what I’m hoping to find. I’m cautious, and Greta must sense my hesitancy, because she becomes more subdued. “I keep the erotica behind the counter.”
Beau rolls her eyes at her mother, but it’s all in fun. It’s obvious she adores the woman, and now I can see where Beau gets her radiant personality.
Laughing, I shake my head. “Maybe another time. I’m looking for information regarding Matching Bonds.”
Lifting a brow, Greta’s gaze is curious but open.
“I have that.”
We take the long way around the top level so Greta can point out particularly interesting book collections, and then descend back down the entire length of the tower. She yanks on a chain near the massive wooden doors at the entrance, sending a rumble of vibration through our feet as they swing closed, knocking some books from their shelves. She pays them no mind as she leads us to her desk, ushering us to its center.
“Here is where we keep the archives.”
I’m about to ask where, only seeing half-bound books—and, indeed, erotica judging by the illustrated spines—behind the desk, when she pulls a hidden lever under the counter and a portion of the floor slides away. I brace my feet, not wanting to slip into the darkness below.
Greta mumbles under her breath as she feels around for something else.
“It’s around here somewhere.”
Then there’s the sound of a match striking before light illuminates the staircase. Greta descends first, followed by myself and Beau. A fraction of the size of the main library, the room is a tiny replica of the one above it but somehow seems to contain even more books and scrolls. Its confines somehow make it all the more daunting.
Greta walks along a shelf inspecting the book spines until she finds the one she’s looking for and hands it to me. “It is very old, so please be delicate and handle everything with care.”
“Of course,” I tell her.
I run my fingers over the embossed leather. Matching and Other Bonds.
It’s heavy and twice the size of my primary school textbook in Alaha.
“Can I?” I ask, motioning to the desk.
“I would usually not mind, but I’m currently working on something myself. These are my studies here,” she says, waving a hand over the open texts. “Anything you would like is yours to borrow as long as you promise not to tell anyone. Many of these books are forbidden.” She winks at me conspiratorially. “Which is my favorite kind.”
I thank her and ask if she has anything on the history of light wielders.
She doesn’t ask questions, just simply finds the text on a nearby shelf and hands it to me. I settle on just the two books for now. “This should keep me busy for a while.”
Finding an alcove with a desk in the main library, Beau retrieves a mystery to read as I dive into the weighty book on bonds. I spend the majority of the day scouring for any information I can find about Matching Bonds, but there’s not much that I haven’t already learned.
Greta sends up lunch sometime around midday. A few stragglers come into the library, but none stay long after discovering my presence. It’s almost as if I was gifted with repulsion and light wielding. I’m nearly convinced of it, except the text details that each Heir receives only one gift.
It also states they receive a single Match in their entire lifetime, if they’re lucky enough to get one at all. Or unlucky, depending on which text I’m reading. It’s a collection of discoveries and observations from different periods, written by unknown authors. Some recount stories of matches who were connected at the hip, each not able to exist without the other nearby, but others speak of the devastation of matches who despised one another and the hardships they inflicted upon those close to them. There’s a list of matches from before the war, all of them dead.
Sighing, I look up, and golden hair catches my attention from a lower level of the library. It’s the girl Acker was standing next to last night. She’s somehow even more beautiful in the daylight. The crimson of her dress looks like blood pooling around her ankles. The collar of mangi stones shines as she shifts, her eyes meeting mine from below. She smiles, and I’m so taken aback by the kind gesture I have to remind myself to give the same
in return.
I say Beau’s name to get her attention.
“Hm?”
I motion subtly with my chin. “Who’s that?”
Beau looks over the railing then back at me, a strange sort of look in her eyes. “That’s Irina.”
I already know I’m going to hate the answer, but I ask anyway. “Who’s
Irina?”
“The Princess of Strou.”
My heartbeat fills my ears, and I can feel the reddening of my cheeks as I fight to remain unaffected, but my blood is boiling in my veins. There’s no hiding it from Beau. Not with her abilities.
“He didn’t tell you she was here?”
I shake my head.
She cusses then rolls her eyes. “He’s an idiot.”
I wait until Irina leaves before telling Beau I want to return to my room.
Shock and adrenaline begin to morph into unfiltered anger. I want to pick up the old text and throw it off the stairs, but I keep my wits about me and shut the cover with a calm I don’t feel. I manage to thank Greta once again, promising to return the book in a few days.
After I murder Acker with it.
The walk back to my room is silent. I’m sure I scare even more of the staff in my fuming march through the halls, each step more punctuated than the last. I barge into my room, coming up short at the sight of my made bed, bedding smooth and the pillows plumped. The clothes I left dirty on the floor have been cleared away. Undoubtedly the maidservants’ doing, waiting until I left to clean, but it’s the parcel sitting in the center of my bed that grabs my attention most strongly.
I look to Beau for an explanation, but she only grins. I pull apart the twine bow on the wrapped parcel to reveal a sketchbook and charcoal pencil, the same as the one Kai’s family used to gift me every year. I flip over the note tied to it, air sticking in my lungs at the words scrawled in
small, neat penmanship.
Draw me something—Acker I throw it down on the bed and march into the bathroom to take a bath.
It’s the only thing I can think of to calm me down at this point. I turn the spigot, and while I wait for the tub to fill, I focus on breathing through the stinging in my chest. My hands are glowing.
Beau leans casually against the doorway, legs crossed at the ankles.
“Your heart isn’t the only heart you’ll break, you know?”
I shake my hands, and they dim a little. “Are you telling me you predict
the future as well as read auras?”
She smiles. “My mother does.”
