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I gave Markan one last sneer before following Nabula down the library’s dark corridors. Tiny amethysts floated above my head.

“What are you looking for today?” she asked once out of earshot from Markan. I appreciated that she allowed me to read and research in private.

“When I last came, I’d wanted to look at the second scroll by Sianna Batavia.The Fall of Asherah and Her Loss of Power.”

“Ah, of course. You have been waiting for that.” She opened a leather case strapped to her bicep and removed the scrolled parchment inside, unraveling it to read, her eyes quickly jumping back and forth across the page. “The available copies are still beneath the pyramid in restoration.”

“And the main copy? The one that had been borrowed by the Afeyan Ambassador from the Star Court?”

“It is not available.”

I frowned. “Nabula, he left Bamaria earlier this week—were you aware of the scroll leaving the country?”

She shook her head. “He returned what he borrowed prior to leaving. But it was also due for restoration.”

Due? Or had he damaged it in some way, determined to keep it from me?

“When will it come out of restoration?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said apologetically. “But I do have some ideas of several other titles to pull for you—firsthand accounts from that time.”

“I would appreciate being allowed to visit the restoration section today.” I tried to form it as a request, keep my voice gentle. I liked Nabula, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin the relationship we’d formed over the years. But at the same time, I didn’t have the luxury of waiting any longer. Not with less than three months to train, not with my extra sessions with Rhyan approaching. I needed to see what that scroll could tell me, and I needed to read it today.

I stood taller, my shoulders rolled back—the perfect posture of a noble, of an Heir to the Arkasva. It was exactly why I’d worn my diadem.

Nabula looked down at once, and I instantly felt guilty for such a show of power, but the stakes were too high for me not to have resorted to my nobility.

“Of course, your grace,” she said formally. “My duties force me to stay on the main level, but I shall summon another librarian to escort you and prepare the scroll.”

“Her grace will come with me,” said a seductive voice.

I turned to see Ramia sauntering down the aisle, her hips swaying side to side, a tight black dress hugging her every curve. Golden bangles ran up the length of her arms, and a golden Valalumir pin held the black material of her dress together over her right shoulder. The amount of jewelry she wore made mine seem minimalist in comparison, and I was always wearing a lot. But then again, she was my prime jewelry dealer. Her bright red hair had been twisted into a loose braid with tiny golden beads threaded throughout. Her eyes, always sparkling and full of mischief, swept over me.

Ramia stood before Nabula. “I take her grace to restoration. You go run your table, yes?”

“Your grace?” Nabula asked, her eyes darting to me.

I nodded even though my stomach had flip-flopped at her sudden appearance. Ramia was a librarian, but she worked with the Afeya collections, which were housed in a different pyramid. She’d given me the first of Sianna’s works the last time I’d been here. Ramia had even prepared a viewing glass and gloves for me in advance, like she’d known I was coming.

“I’ll go with Ramia, thank you.”

The half-Afeyan gave me a mischievous smile, a dark glint in her eyes as she tossed her red hair behind her shoulder. She swiveled her hips, the bangles on her arms jingling as she stepped closer to me and made a shooing motion with her hand to Nabula. “Go. Go. I know my way.”

Nabula pursed her lips together, looking like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “You have been spending a lot of time in my library, Ramia.”

“Your library? Not Great Library for all Bamaria?”

“You know what I mean.” Nabula turned to me, still looking unsure of this new development. She was right. This was not the library Ramia had been assigned to; she was in the larger pyramid with the Afeyan scrolls. But Ramia was an official librarian and was perfectly in her rights to be here as often as she wished. “Your grace. Please send word up to me if you require any assistance.”

“Thank you, Nabula. I will.”

“She’s fine,” Ramia said and sauntered around the corridor.

I tried to offer Nabula a sympathetic look but had to rush after Ramia. Despite her being willing to show me my way to restoration, she was speeding forward, as if daring me to keep up.

I matched her stride, and there was a small look of surprise on her face as I caught up to her.

“Quick. Like soturion,” she said.