Page 31

Nikoly didn’t want Tiiran seen outside of the library. He also didn’t want Tiiran to tell the others they planned to leave that night. Tiiran was sent to a different abandoned office, the tiny one that had been stacked with books and scrolls before Mattin had added to the piles, to write notes to Mattin and Po explaining what to do and his plans to return when things were calmer. He also wrote a note addressed to no one, in case no assistants showed up to the library in the morning and some unknown person would be the first to return after… after whatever happened.

Composing the notes was no simple task. He decided not to mention the records hidden in the cellar. They were safest if partly forgotten. He spoke of the mousers, the supply of components to make ink, and the Master Keepers who had never officially resigned who might need to be contacted again.

Then Mattin slipped into the room and Tiiran swept the notes aside to let Mattin poke at his hair again.

“Are you going to leave?” Tiiran asked him finally, trying not to wince at the application of one of Mattin’s wire-and-glass hair clasps by his ear. Mattin’s hands were trembling and Tiiran didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“I could. But not yet.” Mattin snapped another clasp into Tiiran’s hair. Tiiran resolved to remove them before he left. They weren’t made of jewels, but they were worth than Tiiran could ever afford to lose. “The library.”

That was all Mattin said, and yet it eased a small fraction of the fears Tiiran hadn’t known he had. Acknowledging feelings did not do much good, in his opinion, except that now he knew he was afraid for Mattin and the others.

“Leave if it gets worse. And if not—”

“The cellar,” Mattin had finished for him, his shaking hands finally steadying, although his fretting carried him out of the room only moments after that. He’d get tea, possibly something to eat, then disappear into the stacks again. If guards did storm the library, they might never find him up there.

And if they did, then hopefully his family name would frighten them off.

Canamorra hadn’t, but their numbers were not great anymore. The Arlylian were plentiful enough that they could leave Mattin to his own devices in the Great Library, and angering them might be something Piya wouldn’t risk.

Tiiran reasoned this out as he finished his letters, and then, with nothing else to keep him in the office, went out to look for anything else that he could resolve.

He was fretting too; he recognized it now after seeing it in Mattin. He would leave and didn’t know if he’d return, and he couldn’t even tell the others. Although there was no one to tell that he could see. No fires were lit. Around the entrance, all lamps but one were out. The upper floors were silent.

He went into the rest area to put his notes in the tea cupboard to be found in the morning or perhaps many mornings from now. He had some cold dregs that Nikoly would have tutted over, but Nikoly was off seeing to details of their journey. He’d mentioned getting food for the journey, in case it was scarce with so many others traveling. Then they were going to pack up any necessary belongings together; Tiiran was not to wander about the palace alone and to wait in the library until Nikoly returned, which Tiiran had done.

Tiiran didn’t know when Nikoly would be back, but night would fall soon and at night, passage in and out of the palace gate was scrutinized with slightly more care even in times of peace.

He needlessly straightened the front desk, then stared at the empty copying tables, telling himself he was different from the Master Keepers. They had left the assistants and the library to fend for themselves and would not be welcomed back if he had any say in it.

“Fuck the fae and curse the Canamorra for ever starting this,” he whispered to himself, safe with no one to hear him but possibly the indifferent fae.

But his words punished the child for having a name, as Jola had been punished. When faced with that, Tiiran was almost grateful to not have a family. Of course, even without a noble name, Tiiran was potentially on the same chopping block as the Canamorra because he worked in the Great Library and had sense.

All the danger of noble blood without even the power or wealth. He muttered about it under his breath, knowing Orin would give him a stern look for that but be amused—or would have been amused, if the threat weren’t real.

And for what? Tiiran was one small librarian. He couldn’t save the library or the Outguard. He’d never be close enough to Piya to explain that without the two institutions that were meant to help rulers govern well, the country might as well fall to flames and ash. He doubted Piya was smart enough to see that on his own. Then again, he might, and might not care.

Tiiran had never even left the capital. To him, the parts of the country that were real were the library, the palace, and possibly some parts of the city around them. But the rest of it mattered to the others. Po and Amie had families. Nikoly had a clan head to serve, and sisters to love him, and mountains with storms he found beautiful. The Vahti were smiths, welcoming enough to even take in Tiiran, or so Orin claimed, and Orin wouldn’t lie about it. Lanth had died for the country, or an idea of it. So had the old queen, in a sense.

The palace might be viewed as representing the country. It was full of people; guards and scholars and nobles. Kitchen staff, carpenters, and stable hands. It had gardens bursting with plants from across many territories, and standing evidence of people long dead, like the remnants of the original walls, or towers built by past rulers and the bridges that connected one side of the palace to the other. It held rooms for nobles, and the Palace Guard and Outguard barracks, and the library.

That was the history Orin thought Tiiran should know. The history Mattin loved.

Mattin cared for the country too. So did the fae, or so everyone kept insisting.

“Then where the fuck are you?” Tiiran asked them, not expecting an answer although there should fucking well have been one. Yet he waited in silence for too long, embarrassing himself.

“That’s what I thought,” he snarled, and started over to the doors to lock out any late visitors. Nikoly could knock, or, knowing Nikoly, use a key he’d borrowed from someone. “Once again, you shitheads have left me to—”

Tiiran stopped as both doors swung inward and two palace guards stepped inside just enough to hold the doors open in order to allow a third guard to enter.

Once the third guard was inside, the first two fell into step behind him. They were in shining, expensive-looking armor without a single dent. Their cloaks were embroidered, perhaps not as nicely as Nikoly’s robes and certainly not like Mattin’s, but far finer than Tiiran would have bothered with even if he’d had the coin.

Their leader, and he must be the leader, getting doors opened for him as even a Master Keeper wouldn’t dare demand, was about Nikoly’s height, and had a cloak no less expensive than the other guards’, although his seemed designed to actually keep him warm on cold nights of watch duty. Yet it was pristine, as if it had never been used for that purpose.

He paused to look over the space, as if surprised to see it darkened, and then noticed Tiiran.

He was armed, Tiiran belatedly noticed. They all were. Palace guards were permitted weapons, of course, but they generally didn’t come into the library, so Tiiran hadn’t ever considered their swords before.

Tiiran’s heart was racing, he noticed distractedly. His feet were still and solid and stuck in place.

He stood next to one of the copying tables and said not a thing as the trio of guards approached. Yet his anxious, restless body demanded he do something, so he shook out his robe. It was only when he glanced down to smooth away any wrinkles or pencil shavings that he noticed Niksa off to the side in the shadow of a tall shelf. Niksa must have been about to come out to talk to him when the guards had entered. His eyes were fixed on Tiiran, wide and frightened.

Tiiran turned quickly away from him, gesturing slightly as he continued to fuss with his robe to tell Niksa to stay where he was. Then he raised his head and wondered if his eyes were black, and if for once that would frighten someone who deserved it. At the very least, it should keep the attention of the palace guards on Tiiran and away from anyone else.

“You must be Tiiran,” the leader of the guards said as he came to a stop. He glanced over Tiiran’s head, Tiiran assumed to the banner. Hopefully that was what this was about.

Nonetheless, Tiiran twitched with some surprise at hearing his name said so confidently.

“Assistant Tiiran,” he agreed, then cleared his throat. “It took us some time to find rope to hang the banner, but we did get it up there eventually, uh, guard. I’m afraid I don’t know how the Palace Guard assigns rank.”

He probably should know that. The reflection came too late.

“Captain Pash,” the leader informed him, pausing afterward.

“Oh.” Tiiran bobbed his head. He couldn’t smile like Nikoly but he could be agreeable enough providing he wasn’t talking to fools. “Did you need something from the library? I was about to lock the doors for the night, but if you want to make a request….”

Pash looked over the library again, head tipped up as if trying to see on the upper levels without walking up the stairs. He had a short beard, trimmed into a little point, and a neat mustache. Tiiran was generally envious of facial hair, but he wasn’t sure he liked how sharp the point of that beard was. Pash also had a single braid that went to his shoulders, a style more suited to beat-of-fours or scholars than guards, although nothing said a guard couldn’t have longer hair.

“You’ve been seen around the palace at odd hours—” Pash slowly lowered his head to meet Tiiran’s eyes “—and are known to consort with outguards.”

“Every assistant consorts with outguards,” Tiiran responded without thinking, confused that it would even be interesting enough to mention. “That’s what we’re known for.”

Be quiet , Orin said in his ear.

Careful , Nikoly added. Please, bee .

Tiiran shut his mouth, although he hadn’t said anything shocking or even rude. Pash was still staring at him, so Tiiran added, in a tone that approached soft, “Most outguards don’t like me. But they are frequently in the library.”

“So I have heard,” Pash answered. His eyes were shockingly blue. If he had been shorter, Tiiran might have asked if he was part fae as well. “They are often here.”

“To turn in their reports,” Tiiran explained, struggling to keep his voice even because that should not have to be explained. A guard—a captain —should know that. It was common and freely available knowledge. “All outguards do,” he went on. “It’s why the Great Library is here.”

Niksa shifted at the edge of his vision, perhaps also wishing Tiiran would watch his tone and words better.

“Reports,” Pash echoed, then left Tiiran to gaze at him in confusion.

“Yes?” Tiiran agreed finally. “And we copy them and file them. As assistants have done for centuries.”

“I also get reports,” Pash continued. Tiiran wondered briefly if Pash was even listening to him or just waiting for another chance to speak. “Stories of library visitors. Your visitors.”

Tiiran frowned, more confused than ever. “Is this about the shelf? It needed repair. I didn’t think that would be of interest to the Palace Guard, but was I supposed to tell you? Seems like a waste of both of our resources, but maybe it’s something a Master Keeper would know to do. We don’t have any at the moment.”

His heart had not slowed any despite the stupidity of palace guards coming in here to ask him about banners, and outguards, and possibly shelves. All the worry over Tiiran’s big mouth and yet guards came here to talk about procedure.

“Yes, you messaged your absent Master Keepers some time ago.” Pash waved that off, not seeming to notice how Tiiran jumped.

“You read…?” Tiiran stopped himself, not quite biting his tongue. “Well, they didn’t answer,” he returned. “So if I made a mistake, it was truly because I didn’t know. I will inform the Palace Guard whenever we fix a shelf.”

Which was idiotic and that was likely in his tone but that was hardly treasonous. If anything, the guard should have agreed him that such a step was a bother for both of them. Yet Pash again did not seem interested in Tiiran’s answer.

“You have several nobles who work here.” He kept his gaze steady on Tiiran.

Tiiran’s heart lurched. His shoulders tensed, probably rising to his ears again.

“Is that an issue?” he asked anyway, not rudely, but not as sweetly as Nikoly would have. “I don’t hold it against them,” he added. “They do their work well.”

One of the two guards there to apparently open doors for Captain Pash smiled slightly. The other had a stone face.

“Between the visitors, the outguards, and the nobles, the library is quite a center of information, isn’t it?” Pash asked. Tiiran opened his mouth to say that was the point of the library, then closed it, very certain Orin would not like him to get snippy in this moment. “Outguards might get all sorts of information from infatuated assistants.”

“The outguards are usually the ones who are infat….” Tiiran cleared his throat. “Wait. Are you… are you implying the outguards are eyes-and-ears?” He shook his head. “They are . For the king . That’s their purpose. It’s in the histories.”

Pash smiled a little too. Tiiran didn’t like it.

“The outguard Elorin Vahti has been coming here more often than might be required of his duties.”

Tiiran clenched his hands and raised his chin. He could hear his loud, uneven breathing and tried to calm himself. He had been so calm only hours ago, tied up and petted and….

“Orin?” he asked faintly. “He likes to read. And fuck assistants,” he added, honestly, though Orin might not like him to say so. Orin should not have the attention of the palace guards. Tiiran decided that very firmly and was not going to back from it. “He’s quite a good fuck, actually,” he went on, scowling. “Legendary among us assistants.”

Pash didn’t even pretend to be amused. “He’s known for many things, including being an associate of Arden of the Canamorra.”

Tiiran couldn’t hear it and yet knew Niksa had stifled a whine at that name. Perhaps because hearing it had definitely brought Tiiran’s shoulders to his ears.

Tiiran clenched his hands tighter, grateful for his robe to hide them and to offer some warmth to keep him from shivering. He was suddenly freezing although heat suffused his face.

“The Canamorra are traitors,” Pash added, as if everyone didn’t know that.

“That’s in the histories too,” Tiiran answered stiffly. And in songs. Arden of the Canamorra had turned his back on the palace as much as his sister had, running away with his commoner husband to join the Outguard, where he had stayed for well over a decade. Of course, he and Orin would be friends. It all made sense to Tiiran now. Orin had even mentioned his name once or twice, hardly concealing the fact. But Tiiran couldn’t lie about it. He was a rubbish liar, and not only to Orin, who was good at seeing through deception. He took a breath. “Though that is not usually something assistants and outguards would discuss in their time together, if they do any talking.”

“And what do the outguards talk about with Nikoly of the Rossick?”

Pash smiled again, probably at Tiiran’s shocked, indrawn breath.

Tiiran stared at him, his mind so blank it was if Orin had commanded him to be still.

“Rossick?” If nothing else, Nikoly would have approved of how quietly Tiiran said the name. “ Astvan ,” Tiiran insisted. “He’s Nikoly of the Astvan, a minor noble. Not… not that .”

“It’s highly unlikely the Rossick would bother themselves with palace business.” Pash gentled his tone ever so slightly, as if trying to accommodate Tiiran’s shock. “But they might know things others wouldn’t. You see, the Rossick and the Canamorra were allies—that’s also in the histories but might not be something you know. And you, Assistant Tiiran, have been seen around the palace with both of them, Vahti and Rossick. Nikoly Rossick also goes into the capital, certainly, and assistants are not known for staying in one bed for too long, but it is interesting to us, to me , that they should both be here together at this time, and that one of them would lie about his family name to work here.”

“I’m sorry,” Tiiran began sharply as he understood, “Do you think that I —no, no one would think I seduced them , not if they’d seen either of them. So I don’t understand why you’re saying these things to me like a beat-of-four making a request without actually making a request.”

Pash thinned his lips.

“Do you think the assistants are using them for bed sport and for information?” Tiiran prompted, only for his stomach to swoop when Pash raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” Tiiran continued faintly while his stomach swooped, “you think they seduced me for information.”

Put that like, it was far more reasonable to question why Orin or Nikoly would spend so much time concerned with Tiiran’s well-being when they would not have bothered doing so with any other lover. They wouldn’t have needed to, but also either of them could have found a less troublesome bed partner without any effort. Choosing Tiiran, getting him to trust them, made more sense if it was for a purpose outside of making Tiiran spend.

Tiiran had thought their attentions a dream because they nearly were. None of it had ever been real.

…Except that was shit from the queen’s stallion, as the saying went. The finest horseshit.

“It would have been easier for them to seduce literally anyone else. And I have no knowledge of anything outside of running this library.” Tiiran hadn’t even known Palace Guard ranks and he lived in the palace. “But no one would need to do that for access to the records anyway. Anyone can request anything. Anyone can walk into the library or listen to gossip—gossip widely heard throughout the palace and the capital. And gossip is just that—gossip. It’s usually nonsense. You should know that as well as I, if you live here too.”

If Nikoly and Orin were eyes-and-ears as Pash suspected, whether or not they worked together, they would have had no need to bother with Tiiran. At best, he would have been a way for them to pass the time.

And now they were gone. Orin well out of the capital by now, and Nikoly quite possibly also on his way from the palace. Without Tiiran, but Tiiran had expected that, hadn’t he?

“You have quite a mouth on you,” Pash remarked. “I’ve heard that too.”

Tiiran had hardly even begun to suck cock, so he surely couldn’t have a reputation for it already. He was about to say so before he realized that hadn’t been what Pash had been referring to.

“Hardly someone to lie, am I?” He shrugged, although it was stiff with his shoulders so tense.

“So, you are choosing to tell me that a Rossick and a friend of Arden Canamorra both chose to consort with you at the same time, purely by coincidence?” Pash dipped a look over Tiiran. “The assistant who makes so many library visitors nervous?”

“Oh,” Tiiran said softly, for he had to say something as the force of those words hit him. To Captain Pash and apparently others, it didn’t make sense for Orin or Nikoly to look at Tiiran, much less both of them together. Tiiran was odd and strange looking, difficult and mannerless, plain except for the light hitting his hair.

Hair Nikoly could not stop himself from playing with, and which Orin had commanded Tiiran to wear down so he could admire it. Which Mattin had braided with a long ribbon of satin, and Orin had left untouched while using a rope in much the same way to make Tiiran feel better. To make Tiiran feel calm and warm.

Warm , Tiiran thought again, as he had the first time they had held him between them. Protected like a original volume on a high shelf.

“I wouldn’t leave you ,” Nikoly had promised. Tiiran would never have asked for that. Nikoly had given it, and put Tiiran’s hand to his throat and begged for Tiiran to claim him.

“…Scale the palace walls if the gate is shut,” Orin had said even after Tiiran had told him he needn’t bother worrying over him.

They could have left with clear consciences. No promises needed, unless both of them were secretly cold and cruel and would enjoy laughing about Tiiran later.

Cold and cruel enough to speak with him for months—years, in Orin’s case, and tolerate his rudeness and awkward caresses, and send him gifts and peel oranges for him. Just to possibly, someday, get the chance to laugh at him?

No. The warmth within Tiiran would not be displaced.

They had both sat with him on a dusty rug before a fire and made him feel loved. Loved . That was the warmth. Belonging and heat and safety. Passion.

Love.

Tiiran pulled in a long breath and felt himself hot at the shells of his ears and then down his neck.

Whatever Nikoly and Orin had been up to in the palace, together or separately, they had given Tiiran that. No one else ever had.

He didn’t really care about their reasons, even if they had been using him, even if it was all lies. Anyway, treason was the way of things in this palace, with the succession of failed rulers stretching back twenty years or more. And Piya had proven himself to the hog-fucker Tiiran had once called him.

“I understand.” He raised his head.

Captain Pash was trying to make Tiiran side with him against Orin and Nikoly in order to get Tiiran to tell him all he knew of them. They must be guilty—or suspicious enough—to warrant that. Which meant they both were likely gone for good.

Tiiran had known Nikoly wasn’t honest. He’d said as much to Orin. He felt a little foolish now to think of it, and all those conversations between them that had been above Tiiran’s head. Roses , he had called how they spoke to each. Poetry. But perhaps not. Maybe it had only been code to keep secrets.

Tiiran met Pash’s stare and Pash raised his chin. One of the guards behind him took a small step away. Tiiran imagined his eyes had gone black.

If Orin and Nikoly ever returned, they were probably as good as dead. Jola hadn’t done anything suspicious and she’d been taken. So, they must not return. They must have no reason to.

“ That’s what brought you here?” Tiiran demanded, as rude as he fucking pleased no matter how his voice shook. “A thousand rumors travel through this palace every single day, and you chose the ones about a library assistant taking lovers? This is how you safeguard the ruler and the realm? Palace guards get pretty new armor but meanwhile the palace itself is only half run, if that.” He’d surprised them. If they’d come into the library before, they would have expected Tiiran’s temper. Not that they were here for his temper. All of Orin and Nikoly’s worry, always calling Tiiran the danger, when they were the ones the Palace Guard were after.

Tiiran almost laughed. Then he realized they might have been cautioning Tiiran for their own sakes.

But the warmth remained. He still felt loved, even if he wasn’t.

He focused on Pash. “That anything gets done in the palace, perhaps in the country, is because the people devoted to it have kept it going. Piya hasn’t even bothered to choose a palace Head of House.”

“Assistant Tiiran,” Pash interrupted, voice growing cooler, “you should watch what you say.”

“Oh, I am.” This time, Tiiran was not speaking without thinking. “You are in the Great Library, built to support the rulers of this country, to help them govern with fairness and justice. This library is only a few years younger than the country itself. And yet it is all we can do to keep this library functional, something certainly not aided by the current piss-stain on the throne.” The rattle of armor punctuated his words, palace guards startled into reacting. Tiiran curled his lip in a snarl. “He doesn’t rule. He spends all his time ordering banners put up and arresting perceived threats—sorry, having the Palace Guard do all that for him like scullery help cleaning up a kitchen mess. He doesn’t govern—not even his own palace. He doesn’t even use or trust his own Outguard—who exist to help him just as the library does. And yet he suspects treason being plotted here ? Do you know what does get plotted here? How to keep the library going on what little funds the treasury gives us, even though our job is to serve him. Yet do you see a Master Keeper at his council meetings? No! Because he doesn’t have council meetings, the useless saddle-goose.”

Niksa moved at the edge of his vision, desperately shaking his head, doubtless to tell Tiiran to shut up.

Tiiran refused. “I’m not the only one to think so, though I might be the only one to say so, and if he were to set foot in the library he put his family name on, I would say it to his face. People want peace, you know. They want a good ruler so they can live their lives with only the usual of life’s troubles. If he’d wanted support as a king, all he had to do was his job. I bet most of the nobles feel the same. Not even nobles could all be that stupid as to want the throne.”

Pash spoke through gritted teeth. “Be quiet.”

“Why?” Tiiran asked honestly. “Who’s to hear me but you three? You can’t even trust your own people not to blab about the lack of respect anyone has for him? That says more about the guard than it does about me. Oh,” Tiiran realized out loud, mind and mouth moving fast, “if Piya is hiding in his rooms, then who is there to give him information and influence him but you? If there is treason here, it’s with you, isn’t it? If you want the throne, you’re dumber than even the nobles.”

“Quiet him.” Pash glanced back when one guard moved forward but the other didn’t.

“But he’s fae .” It was the smallest whisper from the frightened guard. The other only continued to come closer.

Tiiran glanced quickly to Niksa, so pale and worried, and regretted making yet another assistant witness this. But if Niksa stayed hidden, he should be able to get out of the library unscathed. Niksa was so sour already, in pain so often. The fae ought to interfere at least once to grant him something sweet.

Tiiran faced the guard just as the guard reached him, and then Tiiran was on his toes, his robe tight at his neck as the guard lifted him to nearly leave him dangling.

“Quick to speak of treason, aren’t you?” Pash demanded, closer now and looking at Tiiran with interest. “Perhaps I asked you the wrong questions.”

“Scullery help,” Tiiran wheezed at him, and was dropped to his feet in time to glimpse the fist swinging toward him.

From his position on the floor, gasping with half his face pounding and one eye unable to open, the sudden, hushed conference over what to do with a mouthy, possibly traitorous assistant who unfortunately had fae blood seemed very distant.

His vision darkened, sparkling at the edges. He didn’t remember Lanth shaking when they’d taken her, but she might have. A useless detail to bother him; that wasn’t the part of her story now, only that she had been dragged from the library.

Tiiran wet his lips and looked up. He wasn’t like Lanth, not for this, not for almost anything, but people might assume so. Orin and Nikoly would if they heard of it. Tiiran wished that someday they would know the truth; as much as he loved it, the library wasn’t Tiiran’s home. He had known home only with them.

He tested his teeth, especially the edge of the broken one in front, then pulled in a breath.

All three guards turned to look at him.

That was good, Tiiran supposed, even if it didn’t feel that way.

“Scullery help,” he said again in someone else’s hoarse voice, “lapdogs, and lobcocks. If you want me out of here, you’re going to have to carry me out.”

One way or the other? Orin practically growled it in his ear, furious with him and rightly so, since the insults seemed to work better than treasonous words.

Tiiran rested his head on the cool floor and watched them approach with one eye, and thought it was also good that Orin and Nikoly weren’t here, because then Tiiran would have wanted to apologize and it would have been a lie.