Page 6

Niksa stopped in the middle of complaint to gesture at Tiiran’s cheek.

Niksa, taller than Tiiran, of course, had freckles that Tiiran had always sort of envied, even though Niksa didn’t seem to spend any time in the sun. He was something of a sour apple, although his consistently immaculate handwriting and ability to reach shelves Tiiran couldn’t without a stool or ladder meant Tiiran was willing to overlook that.

Sour apple was what Po called him. They’d fucked once before Po had decided she liked women and men with finer tastes only, whatever that meant.

“I don’t see why we are copying as usual but Nikoly gets to wander off through the palace,” Niksa swept on with his complaint while Tiiran touched his cheek to try to see what was there, then licked his fingers and tried again since what most often ended up on an assistant’s face, and hands, and clothes, was ink. He dropped his hand when Niksa’s words sank in, then looked across the tables to Po, who seemed guilty.

“You told me he was late because he didn’t feel well.” Tiiran had been debating whether or not he ought to get some oranges and have someone run them to Nikoly if he was sick. Then Tiiran had wondered if he would be expected to deliver them personally, and if he should peel them and arrange them neatly as well. Then he’d wondered where Nikoly’s room even was, and if Nikoly shared it with anyone… and then Tiiran had had more work to do and it’d been easy to put off making the decision for a while.

“I lied,” Po confessed. “He’s actually out trying to take care of something for the library, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“What’s on my face?” Tiiran demanded next, though Po only shrugged before going back to work. “What is he trying to take care of?” Tiiran rolled on anyway. “We don’t have permission to do anything. Just because I let him work from the desk to help me doesn’t mean…”

He stopped in the midst of his fairly quiet but very confused rant when the entrance doors open and Nikoly himself walked in behind a short-haired woman nearly as tall as he was. She had a heavy bag in one hand and a pencil in her dark hair and paused to send a searching look over the crowd of assistants who had stopped to watch her.

“Is that a palace builder ?” Tiiran heard himself ask on a wistful sigh.

“It’s up the stairs. I’ll show you,” Nikoly told her, shooting a smile to Po and the others as he and the palace builder passed, and then a more wary look to Tiiran when the two of them reached the desk.

“You.” Tiiran couldn’t seem to get his mouth to function properly. “You…. Nikoly, you…”

“Tiiran, this is Xenia Plevir with the builders here.” Nikoly gestured to each of them in turn. “Xenia, this is Tiiran. She’s come to look at the broken bookcase. Tiiran,” Nikoly went on while Tiiran gaped, “did you know your cheek reads wicked Earls most cruel ?”

“Fuck.” Tiiran growled, making Xenia jump. “Suck my cock anyway. I fell asleep on a book and it doesn’t—we don’t have permission for this.” Tiiran ignored Xenia’s gasp, probably for his choice of words, but maybe she was in awe of how pretty Nikoly was with his lips parted and his gaze liquid-hot on Tiiran.

“She’s just looking,” Nikoly said, a rasp in his voice. “Please don’t worry.”

He then escorted Xenia up the stairs while Tiiran was muffling a scream.

“Everyone implies I’m scary,” Tiiran muttered to himself in the rest area moments later, trying to scrub ink from his cheek, “and yet Nikoly takes it upon himself to do this and doesn’t seem to care that my heart will not stop pounding.”

“Maybe,” Mattin remarked from one of the chairs where he was rebraiding his hair, “it’s not a bad thing. He means well, almost certainly.”

“She will need to be paid, which means a Master Keeper must approve the expense.” Tiiran scrubbed harder at his cheek with water and a towel, though there were better ways to remove ink from skin. “Even if they are friends ,” he made a noise between a huff and a growl, “she should be paid for any work done. Even just for being here now.”

“Maybe he’s paying her with….” Mattin faded delicately to silence, then cleared his throat. “You gave me Master Keeper work the other day.”

He waited.

Tiiran gestured blankly. “It needed to be done.”

“You keep giving me Master Keeper work,” Mattin said next. Tiiran gave him the same confused gesture as before. Mattin glanced around, then lowered his voice, all the while still braiding. “There is no Head of House in the palace. Who is to even check the signature on the work order and know that it’s not Toak’s?” He finished one braid and set to work on the other, frowning thoughtfully. “We’re already breaking rules. And things must get done.”

Tiiran dropped his hand, hoping that wicked Earls most cruel was at least smudged beyond easy reading. …Which was something that might happen to any signature as well. Master Keepers drank and ate in their offices. Spills and smudges occurred.

He didn’t know what Lanth would think about that. “What if someone does notice that Toak has not been here and yet is signing papers?”

Mattin looped a tie at the end of his braid. “ I will sign it as Toak.” He shivered. “If I’m discovered, I am a beat-of-four as you are not. But you mustn’t tell anyone. I won’t. And I doubt it will be noticed.”

Tiiran was already shaking his head. “They couldn’t torture it out of me.”

Their eyes met, then Mattin picked up one of his hair clasps in a slightly unsteady hand and placed it back in his hair.

Nikoly and Xenia didn’t seem to mind working with an audience, Tiiran observed from his place on the floor across the way from where the repair work was being done. The other assistants had moved the table and books even farther from the mess before Tiiran had arrived. But they were all now standing around gawking at either Xenia or Nikoly or both, since both of them had apparently grown hot from their work and removed their outer layers.

The curtains on this part of the second level had been opened enough to let in light, and Tiiran could allow that it would indeed be very warm to be in a beam of sunlight while climbing ladders or sawing. Xenia now wore only a thin undershirt that might as well have been nothing in the bright sunlight. Tiiran had barely sat down in his corner when Nikoly had followed her lead, shrugging off his shirt and undershirt together before bending back over his work.

Niksa made a startled noise. Tiiran, his mouth firmly shut, watched the sunlight play over Nikoly’s back, then forced his gaze to his lap and spent a few moments arranging his papers and pushing a pot of ink around on the floor in front of him.

“It won’t match the rest of the case,” Xenia said in warning, and it took Tiiran far too long to realize she was speaking to him and to raise his head. “But it will at least hold the books. Anything else would take more time.”

“That is more than good enough for our current needs,” Tiiran assured her. “Thank you. Everything in the library is from different eras as it is. Changes in appearance are common. We even have records for most of the changes made.” He frowned and toyed with his chipped tooth with his tongue. “The records for this will have to be circumspect, but if are already forging paperwork….”

He stopped, frozen to his toes the second he realized he’d said that out loud.

Nikoly took a long, deep, satisfied breath and then whispered, “You are so worthy, Tiiran. I almost cannot bear it.”

“What?” Tiiran echoed weakly, although he didn’t think he’d misheard the strange words.

Nikoly didn’t repeat himself. “I thought this would make things somewhat easier for you.”

Tiiran glanced to the other assistants squeezed into the small space near the bookcase Xenia kept herding them back to whenever they got too close to the tools… or perhaps when they got too close to Xenia.

“She’s not an outguard,” Tiiran warned sharply, to remind them that while seeking out lovers was fine and acceptable, only regular visitors to the library understood the games the assistants played. Then, at last, when he had no other choice, he moved his gaze to Nikoly.

Nikoly had not put his shirt back on.

He was built much like the palace or family guards just as Tiiran had guessed he would be. His skin held the same warmth all over, with a splattering of moles over his ribs that Tiiran could have mapped with one splayed hand. As if those were not enough to accentuate his beauty, the ink markings around his collarbone were bare to the light and he had jewelry to decorate the rest of him. Whether the steel or silver at his nipples were cuffs or piercings like those in his ears, Tiiran could not say without closer examination, but the spangle in Nikoly’s navel surely had to be pinned into place.

That would hurt, Tiiran could not help but think while looking at it, his tongue busy with the chip in his tooth and not discovering the taste of the bit of metal. It must have hurt, as the other piercings must have, as had the markings at his collar when they’d been done.

The markings might have been sketches of animal tracks, or perhaps stylized leaves. If they were leaves, they were on a larger scale than the markings on Nikoly’s fingers. If they were animal tracks, then Tiiran didn’t know enough about animals to know which one had left them. He would have assumed a dog or some form of wolf to match the marking on Nikoly’s nape, but that didn’t line up with the impressions left behind by the dogs of the nobles within the palace.

Tiiran struggled to lift his attention from them and could not quite meet Nikoly’s eyes when he finally did. Then he realized he had no memory of whatever he’d intended to say, or even what Nikoly had last said to him.

“Thank you again, Nikoly,” he murmured again to be safe, though also because he meant it. “This is very helpful.”

“My pleasure,” Nikoly answered, voice at first high, then lower, “my honor.”

Tiiran had to pause to breathe. “That seems like a lot. Unless it’s how you say things where you’re from. In which case, I’m being rude. I’m often rude.” He ignored Niksa’s snorted laugh. “But this is a kind gesture, Nikoly. I mean that. I’m just not used to… help.” A terrible feeling filled his chest after making that pronouncement. “I didn’t know how to receive your offer.” The feeling did not get much better at that, although he could imagine Orin’s approval at the admission, especially when his shoulders stayed where they were. “But ask first next time. Me, or Mattin at least.”

Nikoly bowed his head, some of his hair falling forward.

Then Xenia said, “Ly, you going to hold this for me or what?” and Nikoly turned smoothly toward her and returned to his work.

Tiiran attempted to do the same.

The other assistants were getting no work done, but since Tiiran’s current copy work was unofficial, he held in his remarks and limited himself to glancing over only occasionally, like when Nikoly or Xenia climbed the ladder by the bookcase—which seemed a perilous undertaking and they should both take more care—or when Amie took advantage of a moment’s peace to ask Nikoly about his markings.

Tiiran was vaguely surprised the others had restrained themselves as long as they had. Then he looked up and saw they were not restraining themselves even a little. Amie was skimming her fingertips over Nikoly’s chest while the others edged forward as if ready to do the same.

Tiiran curled his lip. “If you are all going to spend the day up here, I am sure there is work you could be doing while you ogle.”

Xenia cackled. Tiiran glanced to her, then to the others, staring them down when he thought they might challenge his true and valid statement. When even Niksa was quiet, Tiiran risked a glance to the shameless sunflower displaying himself for them all.

The shameless sunflower was watching Tiiran, wide-eyed and breathing harder.

“You also have work to do, yes?” Tiiran asked crisply. “You can answer questions while doing that—over there.” He pointed to a spot farther away from the other assistants. He had to do something; Nikoly stood there facing Tiiran without any attempt at a smile. But he moved after several moments of returning Tiiran’s flustered stare, stepping away from the others and turning to Xenia when she whispered to him.

He really was quite good about listening to Tiiran, a few moments of teasing aside. Tiiran licked his lips, about to tell Nikoly so until he abruptly became aware of the silence around him and ducked back over his work.

“Because you asked,” Nikoly began, barely louder than the sound of Xenia filing the edge of a cut piece of wood. “I was born near the ruins of a series of buildings, an abandoned construction of the fae, or so we believe.” He spoke as if telling a story to no one and everyone. Tiiran peeked up and saw him assisting Xenia once again, his marvelous back to them, but his voice was raised for all to hear. “Or perhaps from the time before the Earls. The walls have traces of artwork on them, and it’s their drawings and carvings that our artisans often try to pay tribute to. I wear bear-paw ivy below my throat and along my fingers, but it was done as the same plant is depicted on those ruins.” He glanced over his shoulders, meeting Tiiran’s eyes before Tiiran thought to look away. “The plant is good to eat or to turn into fibers, practical as well as beautiful.”

“Where is that?” Xenia asked, giving Tiiran a jolt because he’d forgotten her. “Where you’re from? Somewhere cold from how you complain about the heat here.”

“The far northern edge of Rossick territory.” The answer gave Tiiran another shock.

The Rossick were a noble family, though one older than any beat-of-fours and with no interest in adding to their family’s already fierce reputation by bothering with the throne. They stayed out of royal business for the most part, and other families were rarely so foolish as to cross them. They also did not stray much from their territory. They were rumored to keep to old traditions, though of course no rumors said what those traditions were.

“The Rossick?” Niksa wondered. “I’d never have guessed. You don’t have much of an accent from anywhere but the capital.”

Nikoly shrugged. The dog or wolf at the back of his neck moved with the gesture. “I was taught by someone who once lived in the capital. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to come here.”

“And all have those markings there?” Tiiran heard himself asking, cheeks stinging when Nikoly spared him another glance. “Did it hurt?”

“It’s like receiving many, many stings.” Nikoly turned to better give Tiiran another peek at the ivy around his collarbone. “Until you’re hot all over, and your thoughts seem to bloom, and your blood pounds. Would you like to know their meanings?”

Tiiran’s voice rose. “They have meanings?”

“Bear-paw ivy,” Nikoly informed him without looking away, “because I like to be of use.”

“And beautiful,” Niksa added. “You said it was supposed to be practical and beautiful.”

Nikoly exhaled slowly, then turned in the other direction to look at Niksa. “So I did.”

“What of the jewelry?” Tiiran could not stop his mouth. “It can’t be to show off wealth or to only look pretty… as the nobles use it, I mean.” Though obviously Nikoly knew he was pretty. That was more than clear. “Because they’re hidden by your shirt. So what purpose do they serve? Oh ,” Tiiran went on quickly, growing even hotter and regretting leaving his robe on when he’d come up here because he had to be sweating. “They’re normally meant for only a lover or family to see, obviously. Forgive me.”

“They do serve a purpose.” Nikoly’s voice was soft. “I can show you later, if you like.”

“Sweet, blessed fae,” Xenia said, under her breath and yet clearly audible.

“Fuck the fae,” Tiiran replied out of habit, making Xenia wince and sending Nikoly darting over to her to speak in hushed tones, probably explaining Tiiran’s rudeness.

Tiiran rubbed his cheeks, which were fairly burning now, a situation not helped by one of the other assistants giving a whistle.

He swung a look over to them.

“You can work up here or you can work downstairs, but you should be working.” Tiiran meant it to be a snarl, but not as mean or as loud as it came out. Several of them flinched.

It did not reflect well on him that he’d yelled because he was embarrassed. So he sighed before they had taken more than a few steps away. “But if you wanted to go to the kitchens for a snack, or perhaps some of the lavender bliss I saw them making this morning, feel free. Though you might also bring back some for Xenia and Nikoly. It’s warm up here, and bliss can be refreshing.”

The drink, made from lavender, lemons, and sometimes honey, was not to Tiiran’s taste, but many others enjoyed it, particularly on warmer days. Just mentioning it lightened the mood considerably. The others left with the intention to return, and Tiiran kept his attention on the paper in his lap and the book in front of him so that Nikoly and Xenia would hopefully forget he was there.

Everyone needed a break from time to time. Po said it frequently and it was a sentiment Lanth would have shared. Lanth had several long-term lovers in her day, and a few that she had considered true friends up until the end. She had regularly visited the capital and even traveled to listen to bardic competitions. Tiiran ought to remember that more. The library was important, but copy work was rarely urgent.

Anyway, if the assistants got rest and moments of fun more often, they wouldn’t have run up here to pester Xenia and Nikoly as they had. He supposed that also meant he should arrange for Nikoly to get a rest. Maybe a pleasant surprise like the surprise for Orin that Tiiran was worrying over.

Whenever Tiiran discovered a poem this old with additions and different versions, he assumed it was a song that had been written down more than once in its history. Mattin probably would have spilled in his robes at the historical references, but Orin would like the verse itself. Hopefully.

The version Tiiran was copying neatly was the one he thought had the most flourishes. Unfortunately, it was also the longest version. If nothing else, it would be something for Orin to read on his journeys without worrying about needing to return it in good condition.

After a while, Tiiran stopped to stretch his wrists, and let his tired eyes fall on Nikoly, standing straight, head tipped back and arm extended while he handed tools to Xenia near the top of the ladder.

Nikoly knew the names of the tools, Tiiran noticed as he had noticed when Xenia and Nikoly had been carrying the ladder and other equipment into the library. He knew how to use them too, even though Xenia was the expert—or, considering that she was helping them outside of the usual system of palace repairs, she was still in her apprentice years but more of an expert than anyone in the library ever would be.

She and Nikoly were also friends. Nikoly did have a gift with people. Less than a year in the palace and he had people to reach out to when in need. He liked to be of use, he had said. Yet Tiiran could think of no merchant’s child who also learned the ways of carpentry. Maybe he was one of many children and didn’t expect a place within the family business, or didn’t want one, so he was searching for a calling that appealed to him. That meant he would leave the library eventually, unless he found a love for histories or songs or poems or maps or any of the other categories of records now without Keepers to care for them.

Tiiran dropped his gaze to his work when he thought Nikoly might look back at him, and kept it there until Amie, with Po trailing behind her, returned with a pitcher of lavender bliss and several cups. They served Xenia and Nikoly—Po leaning intimately close to Xenia until Tiiran coughed—and even Tiiran, before Amie, perhaps interpreting Tiiran’s expression correctly, dragged Po back downstairs with her.

“I hope you warned your friend about the assistants,” Tiiran remarked, putting his cup of bliss to the side.

“Everyone in the palace knows about the library assistants,” Xenia answered for Nikoly, amused again.

“Oh.” Tiiran raised his head. “That’s different then. If you want to allow them to seduce you when you’re done, feel free. There was a shy scholar once who I think believed hearts were involved… which isn’t to say they couldn’t be. But that is not how it starts for them. I just wanted you to be aware. Po likes you for sure,” he added to make up for sending Po away so quickly. “Ah, that is, if you and Nikoly allow such things. That is,” he said again, tripping over his own tongue, “if you two are lovers as well as friends. I am not good at determining things of that nature.”

Xenia raised her eyebrows very high before taking a long drink of bliss.

Tiiran looked over to Nikoly only to regret it when he caught Nikoly with his head tipped back to finish his drink in a few swallows. Tiiran watched his throat move, felt himself mimic the motion with a dry swallow of his own, then pushed his cup toward Nikoly with a rasped, “Take it. I don’t care for lavender bliss.”

He startled hard enough to nearly tip over his inkpot when Nikoly accepted his offer by sitting down in front of him. He crossed his legs and swooped down in one graceful movement, not coming anywhere near Tiiran’s supplies or the full cup by Tiiran’s knee.

“Time for a break,” Nikoly called out to Xenia, who, instead of complaining at being left to work by herself, laughed and started to check her tools.

“Oh.” Tiiran stared foolishly at him: his face, at first, his pleased, hot gaze, then his markings of pretty, practical ivy, then the glint of the jewelry in his nipples before Tiiran realized what he was doing. He dropped his head to glare at the lines he had painstakingly copied out while his blush went to his ears and Nikoly undoubtedly saw it.

“Tiiran most worthy,” Nikoly said softly, startling Tiiran into lifting his gaze, “weren’t you in the middle of copying that ancient clothing book earlier?”

Tiiran’s ears were not any cooler. “It’s mostly done. And today is… not a holiday, but rather a day to change routine. A small rest, in some way.”

“This isn’t work for the library?” Nikoly twisted to read the book opened flat on the ground, scanning a few lines before looking up again. “The heroics of the Outguard a few centuries ago?” He hesitated. “I didn’t know you were interested in outguards. You never play with them as the others do. Not that I’ve seen.”

“The heroics of one outguard, too fantastic to be real,” Tiiran corrected quickly, then forcibly lowered his shoulders. “Mattin doesn’t play with the outguards either.”

“Well, no,” Nikoly allowed. “But Mattin has no idea any outguards are flirting with him. You…” He stopped, perhaps realizing that no outguards had ever flirted with Tiiran and he had stumbled into a sensitive area. He began again, slower, “I’ve never seen you alone with any except when I was new here. You were scolding one.”

“Scolding?” Tiiran was vaguely insulted. “I was probably tearing them a new hole. And they probably deserved it. Scolding .” He scoffed.

A smile came and went on Nikoly’s face. He leaned in slightly. “It’s all right, you know.” He’d lowered his voice. “If you don’t like flirtations. If that’s the reason.”

“‘Don’t like?’” Tiiran echoed in disbelief, then hunched his shoulders; Orin would understand if he were there to hear Tiiran’s humiliation. Tiiran looked away, poking at his chipped tooth, then releasing a gust of air more exhausted than angry. “I’m not going to get in the way of the game.”

He could feel Nikoly’s confusion in how he paused. “In the way?”

Tiiran jerked his head up, a snarl at the ready, and then couldn’t do it with Nikoly’s gaze so intent and warm upon him. He could do it if he looked elsewhere, he decided, only to glance down at Nikoly’s chest, get caught staring again, and force his gaze back up.

Nikoly hadn’t lost his warmth.

Some of the snarl emerged anyway. “ What ?”

“Your eyes are darker right now.” Nikoly’s voice held a kind of dreaminess. “A purple-black. Like a cloud in lightning storm.”

Tiiran looked away. “Fae blood.” He dismissed his inhuman features with ease of practice. “What of it?”

“I like lightning.”

Xenia made a little humming sound.

Tiiran curled his lip in a sneer. “Yeah, you seem like someone who would stand in a field in a rainstorm.”

His reward was Xenia’s quiet cackle and Nikoly’s gaze actually getting warmer, which should not have been possible. It was as if his eyes were smiling though his mouth wasn’t.

Tiiran snarled for that too, though it was somewhat weak. “What?”

Nikoly looked away from him to consider the open book again. “My lessons never extended to poetry. One of my sisters took an interest, but I always preferred doing to sitting and reading. Would you explain your poem to me? If you have a moment?”

“You probably know it.” It was annoying how often Tiiran stumbled across information he found interesting and new only to find out that most educated people knew it already. “It’s probably included in the histories everyone in the palace seems to know.”

“Tiiran,” Nikoly’s hand was on Tiiran’s knee, then gone, “those histories are usually written by the noble families in them. You’d have to read them all to even try to get an accurate depiction of historical events. Don’t worry too much about what nobles claim to know.”

“Oh.” Tiiran seemed to be repeating himself today. “That’s… helpful, though no noble will want to hear that. Hmm. I wonder if that’s also why they put too many flowers in their descriptions.” At Nikoly’s blank, then inquiring expression, Tiiran elaborated. “Their language is often flowery, or poetic, and describes everything but what is actually happening or being felt. I thought before it was just noble bullshit but then someone told me to look more closely at the flowery parts because they can hide truths.”

Nikoly seemed to consider it. “Everyone has a bias, or a story they want told their way. But, especially in the old days, the nobles relied on scribes to tell their stories, and the scribes might have had their own ideas.” Tiiran straightened up with sudden interest. Nikoly probably didn’t care about the early scribes but Tiiran did and wondered if Orin knew anything about them. Nikoly bit his lower lip for a moment, then finally shrugged. “I imagine, if you looked at enough of those family histories, you could discern some of the truth. And, if you were a historian and wanted to know more, there are even ruins of buildings or traces to be found on ancient fields of battle. You could find the real background for your poem.”

Tiiran briefly tried to imagine himself amid ruins from centuries ago, books spread out around him, his eyes glazed over like Mattin’s with a rare find in front of him. He then tried to imagine leaving the capital and realized he wasn’t even sure how someone booked passage on a boat.

He frowned. “I don’t… I don’t have time to do that. I don’t even have time to do this.” He picked up the quill he had apparently set down, only to set it down again. “The battles themselves are not my interest anyway.”

“Yet you’re doing this now, when I know you have other things you’re worried about getting done.” Nikoly smiled, the dazzling one. “This is what you do for fun?” His tone was almost wistful. “You’re always in the library. Do you enjoy the sun? Or the snow? Do you sing along with bards in taverns? Or ever go watch the guards as they spar? You don’t like any sort of battles or acts of bravery?”

“I like the library.” Tiiran glared at the quill.

“I know.” Nikoly said it as gently as Orin would have. “I’m glad it’s not only work to you here.”

Tiiran looked up suspiciously. “Why would that make you glad?”

He got another blank stare, as if he were some sort of oddity for asking a perfectly normal question.

“Because,” Nikoly said at last, watching him closely, “I would like to be your friend, honeybee. So I want to know what interests you.”

“Friend?” Tiiran echoed, baffled. “Almost no one wants to be my friend. Orin says I’m a hissing cat.”

“Orin?” Nikoly asked sharply. “The outguard?” He glanced down to the book and frowned. “Oh.” Apparently, it was his turn to say it. “Are you waiting to talk to him?” He met Tiiran’s probably very confused stare. “You may tell him I like cats too.”

Tiiran scoffed but it was reflex more than doubt. He had seen Nikoly out in the tiny garden a few times, usually chatting with someone, but the mousers would appear as if from nowhere to sun themselves near him as they did for Po.

Po also liked cats. And Tiiran, for some reason.

“Even when they scratch?” Tiiran asked at last, his voice small.

Nikoly considered him, not a hint of amusement to be seen. “Do you think that’s strange?”

Tiiran had no idea how the conversation had gotten to this point. “It’s strange to want to be friends with me,” he admitted, although he didn’t think Orin would like it. “Most don’t.”

“But some do,” Nikoly argued, exactly as Orin would have.

Tiiran narrowed his eyes. “It’s annoying how calm you always are.”

Orin was also calm and controlled and yet Tiiran didn’t dislike it. It was only when Nikoly answered him smoothly that Tiiran wanted to snarl and huff about it and make Nikoly be not calm.

“It took a great deal of training, believe me,” Nikoly said with a smile much softer than the dazzling one. “I was wild as a boy.”

Tiiran wanted to ask what training meant, but didn’t even get to open his mouth before Nikoly tapped a page of the book to draw Tiiran’s eyes down to it.

“Will you read the poem to us while we work?”

“Why?” Tiiran wondered immediately, even more confused than before.

Xenia’s interjection brought his head up. “Because he likes your voice, honeybee .”

When Tiiran looked at Nikoly, he got another soft smile and a hum.

“Maybe the proper way to appreciate some poems is not to read them but to hear them,” Nikoly suggested. He dipped his chin down to look up through his lashes when he said it.

Tiiran gaped like a fish out of water and knew he did. No one who looked like Nikoly, who got attention from most of the assistants as well as a great many of the library visitors, who left the palace semi-regularly, presumably to visit pubs or a lover, or lover s , would bother pretending to flirt with Tiiran. The others teased each other all the time. To them, it was friendly, even when Tiiran thought it seemed mean. This was probably meant in that way, since Nikoly had claimed to want to be his friend.

A voice of someone unknown to him whispered into Tiiran’s ear that Tiiran, despite all his insistence otherwise, wished that it had been flirting.

Some said never to even think wishes because the fae could be anywhere, but the fae avoided Tiiran, always had. Anyway, he had not wished it, no matter what the strange voice said. But if he had, this was the sort of response he would have expected.

“I should really get this done,” Tiiran said, a scowl on his face, his shoulders nearly at his ears. He pretended he didn’t hear Nikoly’s long sigh, and didn’t as much as twitch when Nikoly rose to his feet with a movement so fluid his bones could have been made of water. He took his cup of bliss with him.

But Nikoly didn’t step away. “There are a lot of storms where you pass into the mountains to reach my family’s lands”

Tiiran tipped his head back to look up. “What?”

“To get to my home,” Nikoly explained again. “You see many beautiful storms, some even terrifying. But they bring rain, and they fill the sky with such colors it puts palace gardens to shame.”

“Flowery talk,” Tiiran said faintly.

“Lightning makes me homesick.” Nikoly regarded Tiiran almost solemnly. “It reminds me of what I love about my family and my home.”

“Enough to leave?” Tiiran wondered. He’d never felt homesick in his life, but he’d heard others speak of the feeling. “To return there?”

“Don’t worry about that too, honeybee.” Tiiran was bathed in the light of another of Nikoly’s smiles, and then Nikoly stepped back over to Xenia.

“Sorry, Ly,” Xenia was quiet, “but I do need to get this done today.”

“It’s all right. My lesson masters would be delighted to see me learn more patience. And it’s worth it.” Nikoly was equally quiet. He must have glanced back toward Tiiran, because he called over, “You’re frowning again. Is something bothering you?”

Tiiran found them both studying them. “What? Oh, is something bothering me? No. I… I was trying to imagine it,” he admitted, then felt like an idiot for saying it in front of them. But he already had, so he grimaced, then explained, “a home to miss.”

He didn’t know if any of the other assistants had cared enough to tell Nikoly that Tiiran had no family, but presumably Nikoly had figured it out because he hadn’t introduced Tiiran with a family name.

“I know some people have families but still no home,” Tiiran added. “But usually they go hand in hand. From all descriptions, missing home isn’t pleasant, but having something to miss is pleasant. It feels like a philosopher’s topic. Or something to be put in a poem, but so hidden by flowers I wouldn’t notice it.” He frowned in thought and irritation with the absent Orin. “It’s not that I don’t like flowers. But to me they are just flowers. They don’t do anything.”

“I don’t understand.” Xenia responded first, and not unkindly despite the words. “But people have homes because they build them for themselves, pretty boy.”

“I didn’t mean actual homes.” Tiiran took a breath to calm himself.

“Yeah, neither did I.” Xenia didn’t seem insulted. She just looked at him, then at Nikoly, who was staring at Tiiran. “The building of homes as I might build a bookcase, and the building of homes as someone might create shelter with their friends or loved ones.”

“Oh.” Tiiran frowned again but not at her. “Not a literal building. Yes, I see. That sounds like something Orin would tell me. Though he doesn’t have a home either, by that definition.”

“ Orin ,” Nikoly echoed, strained.

Tiiran looked over to him, curious about whether or not Orin and Nikoly had encountered one another in the library and what had happened if they had. A one-off tup was nothing unusual. A longing for more… Tiiran could understand that, with the two of them. They were both probably quite good at fucking. They were widely experienced, thoughtful, observant, and so, so attractive.

He still scowled as he turned his head to look at anything that wasn’t Nikoly. It was easy to imagine Orin and Nikoly following the tradition of library assistants and outguards established centuries ago. They both drew the eye, and though Nikoly was inclined to defer to Tiiran in library matters, he and Orin could command attention simply by existing.

And, well, Tiiran did not know Nikoly’s tastes, but he’d gleaned some of Orin’s, and he couldn’t imagine Nikoly would object to Orin making use of him. He couldn’t imagine anyone would. They would be… pretty wasn’t a strong enough word.

Tiiran bit his bottom lip and shifted slightly, only to startle when Nikoly’s hand appeared before him, inked fingers curled around the cup of lavender bliss, which he urged Tiiran to take when Tiiran looked up.

“You seem as if you could use some,” he said quietly, so Tiiran took the cup and thanked him before having a sip.

He could admit he was thirsty indeed.