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“You made it your mission to change it?” Nikoly finished for him.

“And I haven’t regretted it, although it’s caused an ache or two.”

“It has?” Tiiran asked, feeling foolish and small when they both looked at him. “I don’t mean to be difficult. Not to you, anyway. Not when you’re trying to be nice to me.”

“ Nice ?” Nikoly echoed.

“You should be like Po and tell me I’m not your mess to clean up,” Tiiran insisted. “I shouldn’t have to ask how basic things are done.”

“She worries about him too,” Nikoly added, speaking only to Orin again, apparently.

“Po’s a very good spy, should you have ever need one,” Orin informed him in return. “Our eyes-and-ears for just Tiiran.” Then he lifted a hand, turning to Tiiran. “We worry. You might be a spiky cat or an angry bee, but only because… a noble’s fucking Head of House came after you with a mop handle. So we worry.”

Orin’s rare open anger silenced Tiiran’s embarrassed protest.

“You are a force, Tiiran,” Nikoly tried to appease him. “When I came here, I’d never been this far from home and I was a little overwhelmed.” Tiiran had seen no sign of that, but he hadn’t wanted to get close to Nikoly then, so of course he wouldn’t have. Tiiran should have helped him more, although Nikoly didn’t appear to hold a grudge. His gaze was as bright as ever. “But it didn’t take me long to notice you were alone too.”

Gentle or not, the observation from Nikoly felt almost exactly like Orin asking one of his pointed questions.

“Oh.” Tiiran took a small bite of what remained of his biscuit so he had an excuse to look away. “If this is pity, I don’t need it just because I have no family. Or friends.”

“You have friends.” Orin’s reprimand had Tiiran’s back straight within the blink of an eye. Orin’s tone was dark. “Say it.”

Tiiran looked quickly to Nikoly, who was watching him with his lips parted and his eyes still bright. Tiiran couldn’t tell if this was a time when he was supposed to say, “Yes, Orin.” But he didn’t feel like saying it. He narrowed his eyes and whispered, “I have friends.” He shivered at the wave of warmth that meant Orin approved.

“I will make you say it every day if I must.”

At those words from Orin, Nikoly, watching Tiiran, took a slow, deep breath.

Tiiran, watching him in return, said it again, slower. “I have friends.”

“He can really make you.” Nikoly sounded as if he were parched. “I didn’t think you would consent to that from anyone.”

The burn in Tiiran’s cheeks meant a blush he could never possibly deny and that only made him hotter. “Orin isn’t anyone.”

“Kitten .”

Orin’s rasp made Nikoly drag his gaze away from Tiiran. “And kitten ?” Nikoly was almost breathless.

“Fits well in the palm of my hand,” Orin explained while Tiiran squirmed and made an embarrassing sound. “And on my lap,” Orin added thoughtfully.

“ Orin .” Tiiran closed his eyes, hoping and not hoping that they were both watching him.

“Oh, I thought—” Nikoly stopped himself, then asked a question in a hard voice. “Does he like you to share this information about him?”

“With others?” Orin was smug, very smug, about something. “No. With you?” He paused, and Tiiran opened his eyes. Orin’s gaze was on him. “Yes, I think. It’s part of why he called you in here. He has a temper too, kitten. You two are not so different where it matters. You’ll both defend what you care for without thought for your own safety—even when you shouldn’t.”

“Is that a threat?” Nikoly demanded. He might have been trained to fight or be used to sparring with other nobles, but Tiiran didn’t think noble tomfoolery would be any sort of match for how the Outguard fought.

As if Orin was of the same opinion and unbothered by Nikoly’s hint of anger, he studied Nikoly with hot interest. “So they didn’t train the wildness out of you—Tiiran said you told him you were wild as a boy.”

Nikoly startled visibly before settling back into a relaxed posture even though he was clearly anything but. Orin had embarrassed the sunflower while also exposing some of the training Nikoly had gone through.

Tiiran wanted Orin to keep doing it and felt vaguely ashamed of himself. He spoke gently to Nikoly. “Orin tangles people on purpose sometimes, so he can untangle them at his leisure.”

“People tangle themselves,” Orin corrected him. “Some people just like to be untangled, as you call it, by someone else. But… I don’t think they trained the wildness out of him. They just taught him to control it.” Nikoly twitched again. Orin’s voice was even and yet Tiiran thought he was very, very pleased. “Tiiran, did you befriend another snarling cat? No.” Orin answered himself before Tiiran could try. “Look how politely he sits there even after I picked at him. Not a cat. A well-trained pup more like… if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Tiiran would have been furious… and squirming. He wondered if Nikoly was squirming inside, or furious, or neither. If he was blushing. If he wanted Orin to keep untangling him.

Then Tiiran wondered what he ought to do if that happened, and Orin got Nikoly wide-eyed and breathless and panting, unable to even summon a dazzling smile that wouldn’t have mattered anyway because Orin certainly wouldn’t have been fooled by it.

But Orin turned his head to find Tiiran, one brow raised in question.

Tiiran glared at him reflexively. Orin only stared back, as if to remind Tiiran that he had wanted this and had called Nikoly here to meet him.

Tiiran set his cup onto the table, tossing the last bit of biscuit next to it. Orin continued to wait. Nikoly as well, turning to Tiiran with an expression Tiiran couldn’t read.

Tiiran could have snarled his frustration. Orin didn’t like Nikoly, or Orin liked him a great deal, or something else was going on and Tiiran was too much of a feral animal to know what it was. He finally went with another, far safer, question.

“Why train you at all?” He scowled to the books. “What for?”

“An excellent question.” There was a smile in Orin’s voice. “Nikoly?”

Nikoly dipped his head, then raised it to look at Tiiran. “A noble’s education usually consists of reading and letters, some figures, some physical sparring if you’re capable and interested, and then at least a basic knowledge of your family’s histories and any families you are allied with. I was not the best student of histories.”

“Meaning he’s not one angling for power,” Orin interpreted, probably for Tiiran’s benefit.

“Yes,” Nikoly agreed with a nod, eyes on Tiiran. “I’m not clever like some. I prefer being practical, using my hands if I can.”

“Like carpentry?” Tiiran glanced to Orin. “He replaced a broken shelf here.”

“I helped a true carpenter,” Nikoly insisted. “My knowledge is nowhere near hers. I simply like to learn skills.”

“Any others? Besides the carpentry and whatever martial skills you learned, that is.” If Orin was going to interrogate Nikoly, teasingly or to make him wriggle as his ducklings must wriggle, then he shouldn’t make fun of him for having a temper and yet not being fighter like Orin or the other outguards.

“If Nikoly were a trained warrior, he wouldn’t be working in the library.”

“Calm, Tiiran. I’m not going for his throat.” Orin gave Tiiran a small grin, but turned his attention back to Nikoly. “And I won’t, if he’s good enough. He knows that.”

“Good enough for what?” Tiiran nearly asked, swallowing it down only because the answer was very probably: to be Orin’s well-trained pup .

“I was also educated in some poetry, and observed some of the work of running an estate although that was not the plan for me,” Nikoly answered. “I know some leather craft and sewing, mostly for repairs; I could never make clothing. My cousin weaves and showed me some of her techniques. I was taught some medicine as well. Not enough to be a healer, but I can grind and make brews and tinctures, and treat some injuries until a real healer can take care of them. I did spar some, yes.” He looked to Tiiran. “Things of that nature. At first, my family was trying to determine if I had a calling. Then I wanted to add to my knowledge.” He turned back to Orin. “I’ve also worked with horses and have helped train both guard and hunting dogs. I was briefly interested in smithing, but I would never get in a smith’s way out of mere curiosity.”

Orin smiled, blindingly bright. “My brother is a blacksmith. My uncle on my mother’s side is a silversmith. It’s the family trade.”

“You never told me that.” Tiiran huffed it although he wasn’t truly offended. “Is that the business that didn’t suit you?” He suddenly had an image of Orin standing before a hot forge, an intimidatingly large hammer in his hand.

He swallowed dryly.

“Oh yes.” Orin shared some of his smile with Tiiran. “I liked it well enough, but I liked the idea of wandering for a while better. My family are lovely. I visit them often,” he added to Nikoly. “But at seventeen, I wanted to see different places, meet people, pick up things.”

“Orin likes learning too,” Tiiran jumped in proudly. “But about people more than skills.”

Nikoly was back to his well-trained self, no longer blushing if he ever had been. “And he enjoys the books in your library.”

“I like the quiet of the library.” Orin was diplomatic. “And the idea behind it. If there were historical records of ancient smithing or weaving techniques, they are either here or should be here. You can keep learning skills even while working in the library, Nikoly. You wouldn’t have to leave.”

“Oh.” Tiiran considered the idea with some amazement. “There would be, although it will be scattered in other documents because no one’s ever asked for that before. I could assemble—or Mattin could—oh. Fuck. I don’t have the time or the people to dig all that out.”

“I’m content for now at the desk helping library visitors,” Nikoly assured him.

“Anything that keeps Tiiran from being the one to do it,” Orin agreed, much too amused.

“He’s very good with people.” Tiiran spoke firmly to make Orin shut up, only to briefly lose his thoughts at the pretty look Nikoly gave him. “If we do have any knowledge passed down from weavers or artisans, it would take some digging to find it. It would be a lot of reading for you.”

“I never said I didn’t like reading,” Nikoly pointed out. “Just subjects like history.”

“True, that is more Orin’s area,” Tiiran realized aloud. “You collect skills the way he collects knowledge, although I still am not sure for what purpose. These are tools, and tools are meant to be used.”

“Every once in a while, he sees more than he knows,” Orin murmured after a pause where neither of them spoke. “That’s when he’s the most dangerous.”

“Don’t be silly.” Tiiran only scared people because he looked fae. “I’m a big mouth but that’s all.”

“And what does our spit-fire collect?” Orin would continue to tease Tiiran about being dangerous. “Aside from creative insults, that is.”

“Our?” Nikoly’s voice was soft. Tiiran barely heard him.

“What are you interested in outside of the library, Tiiran,” Orin explained further as if Tiiran hadn’t understood.

It was a deliberate question. Orin wanted Tiiran to think about things other than the Great Library. He wanted Tiiran to sit in gardens the way that Nikoly wanted him to have fun in the capital.

Tiiran bit his lip and clenched his hands. Orin thought this mattered, so it must. “I don’t have much of an answer,” he said at last. “I like having things to do—but not as much as I have now. I like coming in here in the mornings, especially in the spring and fall when the light is gentler. I like when the assistants are busy, but not so much that they aren’t joking or talking amongst themselves. I like it when my library is well run.”

“Your library?” Nikoly and Orin asked at nearly the same time, both of them smiling wickedly.

Tiiran tossed his head. “ The library. Obviously. Fuck off.”

But Nikoly seemed to realize something. “ Your library, of course.”

“If anyone in this palace had any sense, they’d see it too. Where the library is concerned, he’s the world’s smallest bear protecting its cubs.”

Orin had mentioned bears on purpose but Tiiran gave him a frosty look anyway. “You’re the bear here, Orin.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.” Orin responded to frost with fire, so hot that Tiiran was jittery again instead of soothed. He wanted to jump to his feet, but then he’d do something foolish, like leap into Orin’s lap even with Nikoly right there.

“I meant ,” he bit out the word, “that he’s at least the size of one. Right, Nikoly?”

Nikoly’s eyes were large and dark as he turned to look at Orin. “I would say so, yes.”

“And have you seen many?” Orin inquired politely, in a slightly roughened voice.

Nikoly licked his bottom lip. “A few.”

“Like your marks,” Tiiran realized aloud, too restless to be quiet or still. “The ivy named for bear paws? Is that to match your dog? Or is it a wolf? I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“On his chest?” Orin pressed with surprise. His voice roughened even more. “When did you see his chest?”

Tiiran twitched in place, fixing Orin with a reproachful look until he saw how amused Orin was.

He was teasing, so Tiiran responded back in the same manner despite the rush of blood in his ears. “The shameless sunflower was helping repair the shelf and grew overheated in the sun.”

Nikoly turned to him with a wounded expression. “Shameless?” he demanded, then stopped, blinking. “Sunflower?”

“Unless your shirt accidentally came off,” Orin remarked, still teasing, possibly to unravel Nikoly again. “You’ll have to show me some time. Your marks, I mean.”

Nikoly stared at him, hardly breathing, before giving Tiiran the same curious, desperate look. “Shall I?”

“If you want to. They’re yours to show.” Tiiran answered without thought, then sat up as if someone had yanked on his collar. “Are you going to take your shirt off for everyone, then?” He didn’t know what his tone was but fully expected Orin to chastise him for it.

Orin did not. “Only if Tiiran allows it,” he said, easy. Nikoly let out a small, breathy sound. Orin studied him, almost with pity. “Poor pup. How long have you been waiting for that?”

Nikoly’s answer was faint. “Tiiran said you uncovered things about people.”

“Not to embarrass you.” Orin was abruptly serious. “Only to make things clear, at least for us.”

“It’s no embarrassment,” Nikoly assured him quickly, raising his chin. “It’s worth it.”

“Yes, he is,” Orin agreed.

“And what about you?” The breathy quality had not left Nikoly’s voice. “How long have you waited?”

Orin laughed without any real amusement. “It’s not the waiting that kills. It’s the worry. But you’ll help with that, won’t you.”

Nikoly understood what Tiiran didn’t and nodded with only a moment’s hesitation. “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Tiiran dropped his head but he had nothing to frown at in his lap and nothing to do with his hands. He crossed his arms tight, squeezing his chest but it didn’t feel like when Orin did it.

They don’t need him for this conversation. Whatever they were speaking of, it wasn’t Nikoly’s markings. Although if Orin wanted to see those, Tiiran had no say in that no matter how they teased him. Orin had noticed how Tiiran looked at Nikoly. He wouldn’t look at Nikoly in the same way, but only because Orin was better at concealing things than Tiiran would ever be. But Orin did like Nikoly, he had already said as much. Nikoly was handsome and far more experienced than Tiiran.

Well trained , Tiiran remembered. A well-trained pup .

Those words were different now. Tiiran should have paid more attention when they’d first been said. Orin and Nikoly hadn’t hidden anything. Tiiran was just useless at anything that wasn’t copying someone else’s words.

They’d had a whole conversation with Tiiran believing they were talking about education and tea breaks.

Nikoly had pleased Orin at least, and quite a bit, judging from how Orin leaned back in his chair to listen to Nikoly talk. Tiiran heard their voices but the words were indistinct. He was tired, and he supposed two biscuits and half a cup of tea really weren’t enough to get through the day.

His heart was beating fast. The skin of his face stung with overwhelming heat.

Tiiran had brought Orin a duckling. He should have expected this. He had expected this, imagining Orin and Nikoly kissing or fucking when they’d slipped into his mind while he bathed or tossed and turned on his bed. Now he imagined that, but also Orin putting the pretty tears in Nikoly’s eyes.

They had also spoken openly about Tiiran and how fond they were of him… and how he didn’t understand what others did. They’d known he hadn’t followed their real conversation.

Stupidly innocent , Fial had said once, perplexed about how Tiiran could have such a foul, spiteful tongue but not know how such games were supposed to be played.

Tiiran should ask them now if they’d like him to leave. They’d answer honestly, maybe even be fondly amused with him again for having to ask. He was tired of being amusing. Being worldly, just once, would have been a small grace.

He had wished. Tiiran hadn’t even realized he had until now. But Orin undoubtedly knew, and if Nikoly didn’t, he would soon enough. Tiiran had called Nikoly in here because he’d wanted….

Too much. Things that didn’t make sense when all jumbled together. But that was the problem exactly. Tiiran wasn’t good with people, and the two of them were, and he’d been hoping one of them would untangle it all for him. For Orin to tell him what it was he felt, and what Nikoly felt for him. For Orin to approve of Nikoly. For Orin to tell Tiiran what he felt for Nikoly and for Orin wasn’t embarrassing. That those feelings might even be returned. For either of them to tell Tiiran what to do about any of that.

Tiiran had been wishing again and hadn’t even realized it. Like a child, really.

“Tiiran?” Mattin’s gentle voice was distant and slightly raised. “Tiiran? You weren’t on the third floor. Are you here?”

Tiiran was up from his seat and at the entrance to the nook before Mattin appeared, tugging on the end of his single braid decorated with tiny chiming bells. In his other hand was a folded piece of paper, which he pushed toward Tiiran. “Toak sent a note—oh.”

Mattin leaned to the side to peer around Tiiran, looking from side to side before focusing on Tiiran again, more flustered than he’d been only a moment before. “Sorry,” he told Tiiran earnestly, then repeated, louder, apparently to the others. “So sorry!”

“Mattin,” Orin greeted him pleasantly, possibly too pleasantly. Tiiran wondered if they had ever fucked. Mattin was oblivious to the flirting of most outguards, but Orin wasn’t most outguards.

“Orin.” Mattin bobbed his head at Orin, but his worried attention was almost immediately back on Tiiran. “I thought you were working alone, I didn’t mean to burst in. We received a letter from Toak and I knew you’d want to see it right away. I should have listened to Po and waited.”

“Toak? Waited? My ass.” Tiiran snatched the letter from him and nearly tore it open. It had already been opened and read, which explained Mattin’s haste to show it to him.

“ I will do my work for the library from my family home. Have it sent there. Toak .” Tiiran read it once silently and then again out loud, his voice rising at the end. “That piece of crusted dog shit. As if we have time or money for that. As if that many library materials are allowed elsewhere, even for Master Keepers. That spineless, arrogant, midden heap of a man. Head so far up his own ass he thinks we’ll really do this just because we need a Master Keeper?”

He was aware that he was nearly shouting, but it felt good. As did waving Nikoly away without looking at him and ignoring the calming, “Kitten,” from Orin.

“Thinks he can give orders,” Tiiran sneered at the note. “Thinks this isn’t our library. We’re the ones here. We do what we want.”

“He’ll contest anything we do to the palace Head of House,” Mattin pointed out, not arguing, just thinking like a noble.

“There is no palace Head of House,” Tiiran snarled, crumpling the note in his fist. “If Toak wants his salary passed on to him, he can fucking well do his work here like the rest of us. If not, it goes to the library and I’ll tell him as much.”

“Be careful,” Orin said, almost in unison with Nikoly’s low warning, “ Tiiran .”

“I’ll write him back now.” Once he’d said it, Tiiran could breathe and unclench his hand. Mattin stared at him, waiting. He must agree, because he offered no objections.

It was the two of them and the library. Tiiran nodded firmly for Mattin’s sake, then swallowed. He didn’t turn around. “I have to go do this but I’ll come back up for the mess.” If Orin and Nikoly wanted him to return, they had only to say so.

“I can get it, Tiiran,” Nikoly assured him.

Orin nearly purred. “Is it your honor?”

Mattin’s eyes were round. Even he noticed the way they spoke to each other.

“Come on then,” Tiiran said crossly, knowing Mattin would assume Tiiran’s temper was directed at Toak and not at himself.

Mattin peeked around Tiiran to the two horny goats behind him to say, “It shouldn’t take long.”

Tiiran could have told him they weren’t concerned if Tiiran was coming back tonight, but it seemed the kind of thing Tiiran would have snarled spitefully when he’d been younger because lashing out was what wild beasts did. He really should be beyond that by now. He helped run the Great Library. He had no reason to act as foolishly as nearly every beat-of-four in the palace.

“Nikoly?” he called out, still without turning. “You’ll take care of Orin, won’t you?” He didn’t quite manage to layer his words as they had, but he hoped he got his point across.

“If you like,” Nikoly agreed. Tiiran strained, but that was all he heard in the words. Po might have heard more, but Tiiran wasn’t going to ask her about this. “I think he’s worthy.”

A tiny line appeared between Mattin’s eyes. At least Tiiran wasn’t alone in his confusion.

“Am I?” Orin asked—only curious, not teasing or flirting that Tiiran could tell. But Tiiran had thought ‘Tiiran most worthy’ had also meant something, maybe even something special, when it was clearly just the way people from where Nikoly was from spoke about people they liked.

“I’ll just go deal with this,” Tiiran heard himself saying like a ninny, and reached into the pocket of his robe for his hair pin, only to stop because Orin had told him not to and he didn’t know if that still counted.

The hesitation was enough for Orin to notice. “Tiiran?”

Tiiran started walking, slipping around Mattin and not looking back, leaving Mattin to flutter and chime in his wake.

Orin’s voice followed him out as well, just a few words, but enough to make Tiiran bite his lip hard and walk faster.

“Has anyone ever been as eager to serve as you?”

He wasn’t sure if he imagined Nikoly’s quiet, choked answer.