Page 7

The shelf was perfectly functional. A note of the change was written into the library records by Mattin and then promptly filed, to hopefully never be looked at again by anyone in their lifetimes, and whatever went on between Xenia and Po and Amie meant Xenia returned to the library a few times in the following days to disappear among the shelves with one or both of them.

Not with Nikoly, not that Tiiran saw. Not that Tiiran was looking. He had plenty of other things on his mind, like the late spring rain that meant people tracking mud into the library, and Niksa getting pains in his hands at the sudden change in the weather, giving him a legitimate reason to be a sour apple, although he didn’t want to rest in his rooms. Tiiran sent him to one of the abandoned offices where he could sit by a fireplace and sort out a small pile of papers Tiiran had discovered in a drawer in a corner on the third floor.

The corridor in front of the library was sheltered from rain and snow falling from overhead, but did not offer much protection from anything the wind blew in from the side. One of Piya’s ridiculous banners got soaked, then dripped a puddle by the entrance that only made things worse. Someone should have taken down all the banners once it was obvious the rainfall would be serious but no one in the palace had. Limp banners were everywhere.

Tiiran had gotten into the habit of looking up from his work at the front desk whenever the doors opened and shouting, “Wipe your feet!” before he’d even seen who was there.

One of the usual scholars had jumped. Po, returning from a trip to deliver a copying request to someone within the palace, had shouted back at him that she fucking was already. And one palace guard, walking into the library for unknown reasons, had startled backward then walked out without uttering a word.

Nikoly had come up to the desk not long after that, silently, gently encouraging Tiiran to go do something else some where else. Perhaps it was the moisture in the air turning Tiiran’s hair into even more of an unruly dandelion puff, but Tiiran wasn’t in the mood to gently do anything.

He stayed put, scooting himself and his stool to the side just enough for Nikoly to work alongside him if he insisted upon being there. Of course, ‘just enough’ turned out to be a distracting choice, with Nikoly’s arm brushing his whenever Nikoly dipped his reed quill into his inkpot.

If Nikoly noticed the resulting fidgeting from Tiiran’s side of the desk, he chose not to remark on it. Tiiran covertly studied him for a while, deciding to blame his distraction on the weather. He also decided that anyone would have been wondering what sort of training Nikoly had gotten that made him so impervious to Tiiran’s temper.

So what if, according to Orin, it wasn’t actually temper, but how Tiiran showed anxiety and concern? It looked like temper. It sounded like temper. Nikoly should have been keeping his distance. Even Po avoided Tiiran at his foulest. Yet Nikoly, much like Orin, stayed where he was.

“What?” Nikoly asked without looking up from the line he was writing.

Tiiran flinched and glared at Nikoly for causing it. Nikoly’s answering smile nearly stopped his heart. He was almost grateful when the doors creaked open.

“Wipe your feet!” Tiiran got it out before Nikoly could say something more polite, then straightened so abruptly he slid to his feet. Nikoly was instantly standing as well, alarmed attention on the door and whatever had gotten Tiiran excited, his arm in front of Tiiran.

His arm was down at his side again a mere second later and he didn’t look at Tiiran when Tiiran glanced to him.

“What sort of fae-cursed day is this?” one of the outguards at the door grumbled as she stopped to wipe her boots on the rug Tiiran had put out earlier for that purpose. There were two other outguards with her, neither of them especially tall, and Tiiran plopped himself back onto his stool with a dejected sigh.

Nikoly gave him a long study before turning to face the new arrivals. Those assistants at the copying tables also turned to face them, already discussing the guards amongst themselves. Tiiran rolled his eyes and bent back over his work. The outguards were here to turn in reports. He left them to Nikoly, who greeted them pleasantly as if he were a merchant and they’d just entered his shop.

Tiiran doubted Nikoly had ever worked in a shop, even if his family owned one. Nikoly’s manner was not quite that of a scholar, or a beat-of-four, or even a trader. He acted more as if his wealthy parents had paid for him to be educated and then set him loose in the capital. He spoke like the lesser nobles still found around the palace, but walked and looked like a guard except for his taste in fine clothes, his jewelry, and his ink markings.

Perhaps the markings had been done to him during as a part of the training he’d spoken of. Sitting through stinging pain seemed like it must teach something about control, in the same way that guards got hit during sparring but it allegedly taught them to spar better. To Tiiran, it seemed more like an exercise in flushing darker and eyes going bright with tears. Even the strong, experienced guards would whimper or moan when hit hard enough. Not that Tiiran watched them spar often, only a few times in his younger days. Fial and the other assistants had taken him with them. Palace youths of all kinds found the sight pleasing. Or maybe the view had been more about the guards often being without their shirts than their moans and reddened skin.

Perhaps it had been about both, for some.

Tiiran flicked a glance up to Nikoly’s face, wondering if Nikoly had bitten his lip and cried prettily while being marked or if he had held in his cries by whimpering into the back of his hand.

“ Oh ,” Tiiran murmured helplessly, drawing Nikoly’s gaze to him before he could reach into his robe to covertly adjust himself.

“Now,” said a new voice. One of the broader outguards of the three who had just walked in strode up to the desk, winking at the assistants at the tables as he passed them, “which one of you darlings is Tiiran?”

Tiiran felt his eyebrows slowly draw together but raised his head.

He was not expecting the outguard to flail back a step. “Oh, shit. That is… sorry.” The man straightened quickly and glanced toward the copying tables, as if hoping the assistants hadn’t seen that, or that his sparkling gaze and muscular arms would make up for his moment of panic. “Of course, it’d be the one with the eyes that go black,” he went on jovially—to Nikoly, not Tiiran, then flailed back again although Tiiran doubted Nikoly had done anything to warrant such a reaction.

The sparkling-eyed, cowardly outguard seemed transfixed by Nikoly for another moment, with the other two behind him equally entranced. “Whoa,” the guard said finally, before turning to Tiiran again. “Do you put your scariest assistants at the desk?”

Tiiran looked him in the eye and snapped his teeth.

The fae were alleged to have sharp teeth. Tiiran did not, at least, not any sharper than anyone else’s. The first outguard still watched him with wide eyes while the other two continued to stare. “Whoa,” the outguard said again.

“ This darling is Tiiran.” Nikoly practically purred it. Even distracted, a shiver went down Tiiran’s spine.

“Did I yell at you once for fucking against a shelf of books so hard that you knocked the books over?” Tiiran vaguely remembered the moment. Years ago, but he’d apparently made an impression. He was pretty sure he’d made the guard’s cock go soft. “How can I help you today?” His tone was almost polite. Nikoly should be pleased.

“Fuck, Orin is an odd duck,” the outguard muttered, then made a pained face and shook his head as if denying his own words. He raised a hand before he added, “A stubborn, strong, loyal duck, who is not afraid of anything, it seems. Our dear friend Orin. Any of us would die for him, little fae—uh, Tiiran. There’s no need to glare at me like that.”

“Nikoly.” Tiiran only said the one word, but Nikoly was suddenly taller and louder at the center of the desk.

“Are you all here to drop off reports?” he asked, nothing but pleasant. He didn’t say, “your reports,” perhaps having learned that though outguards were supposed to only turn in their own reports, they often handed over the reports of their friends as well. Tiiran didn’t know if it was an Outguard rule or merely a strong suggestion, but it wasn’t the job of the librarians to enforce it. And he imagined it was easier for many of the outguards assigned to a great distance from the capital to not have to return so often.

Then again, if Orin was correct and nobles did sometimes want to interfere with the information in reports, then someone should be ensuring the outguard who wrote it down was the one who turned it in. But a sheltered librarian against an outguard was no sort of contest under normal circumstances. They weren’t all as easily cowed as this one. It was enough that the librarians recorded who turned in the reports, regardless of the name on them.

“Oh yes,” the first outguard answered belatedly after the other two had, reaching into their packs for the reports in question. “But also, we met Orin on the road on our way here and he tasked me with delivering something for him.”

“Tasked?” Tiiran asked without thinking. “Orin has a habit of telling others what to do as well?”

The outguard who had been the first to enter the library hooted. The one in front of Tiiran seemed to get a bit more sparkle in his eyes, although he lost it when Tiiran scowled.

“Perhaps this will ease your frown, tiny one.” He glanced warily at Tiiran a few times before pulling his pack to his side and looking down to search within its pockets.

“Orin’s well?”

The question seemed to calm the outguard somewhat; he even flashed Tiiran a smile. “He’s harder to kill than an eastern boar, don’t worry about him.”

“Did he finish one of his books already?” That was the only thing Tiiran could imagine Orin wanting to be rid of so soon after his visit: a book finished early or a book so dull he had no desire to even carry it around.

One of the two other outguards was surprised into laughter, nudging the friend next to him. “I knew he read that fast. He likes to say he just reads them because he gets bored out there, but nobody is that bored.”

“It’s better that he not be bored,” the first outguard broke in absently, still searching through his pack. “Orin bored is Orin investigating things he shouldn’t. And if there’s no plump-assed, dewy-eyed, plush-mouthed pretties around for him to make into his ducklings, then a book will do. Ah, you’re scowling again, tiny—uh—Tiiran.”

Tiiran was aware of the heat and probably color spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. He ignored it. “You think he’s foolish for reading.”

The outguard paused to look up. “I think people can do whatever they like with their time,” he said gently. “But if Orin had been born a noble, he’d be one of the ones camped out in here writing tomes no one but others like them would read.”

One of the others disagreed. “No, Orin likes to do things. He might come in here more, but he’d need to act as well, in some way.”

Something clenched in Tiiran’s chest. Orin could have tried for a job in the library when he’d been younger, and either hadn’t known how or had thought the outguard would serve him better. Maybe he had taught himself from the books over time, almost as Tiiran had, but hadn’t had a Lanth to offer extra tutoring to help him, so the Outguard had been the only choice besides stay with his family in a place where he did not fit. But it seemed even the Outguard did not quite suit Orin Vahti, odd duck.

Tiiran rubbed his chest to soothe the pull near his heart. “I thought you were his friends.”

The ice in his voice could have frozen Piya’s stupid, drenched banners solid.

“I meant it, tiny one.” The first outguard, of the sparkling eyes and suddenly serious manner, put one hand on the edge of the desk. “There is very little he wouldn’t do for us, and us for him. And…” the rascal dared to leer, “he is very good for certain other things, as you must know.”

Nikoly had an arm in front of Tiiran and was gently but firmly urging him back from where Tiiran had leaned over the top of the desk to snarl.

“Fae protect me!” the outguard exclaimed softly. Nikoly’s palm was over Tiiran’s mouth before Tiiran could utter his usual response to that. Tiiran was too taken aback at Nikoly’s daring to lick or bite his hand as he thought he should. The outguard put an intricately folded letter on the desk before taking a step back. “There it is, wild one.”

Tiiran stared hard at Nikoly until he removed his hand, then reached for the letter. The letter was folded but unsealed, although Tiiran didn’t suspect these outguards of reading it. They were Orin’s friends, after all, even if they were fools.

A small pouch of leather appeared on the desk next, and even before Tiiran had reached to take it, he noticed a floral scent. When he drew the string to open it, the scent grew stronger. He carefully tipped it over to drop dried rose petals into his hand.

He held them up to his nose and inhaled again, his eyes drifting shut.

Next to him, Nikoly whispered his name. Tiiran opened his eyes, his face growing even warmer.

“I must look silly,” he excused himself, ignoring how quickly Nikoly shook his head. He focused on the letter, taking care not to tear the paper as he tried to open it without putting down the petals.

Kitten , the letter read, both on the outside and at the top of the page once unfolded. Tiiran didn’t look over to the outguards who had surely seen that nickname written there. They’d at least had the grace not to call him that.

Kitten , he read again eagerly. It was roses. That garden is known for roses of all sizes and colors. Perhaps you know that and visit it many times, but I don’t think so. Not from the way your starved senses drew you to it and made you close your eyes as you inhaled the fragrance. The garden will be better in summer of course, but spring roses are lovely too. So is your library,

Tiiran stopped reading just long enough to scoff at the notion of this library being his , then hurried on.

but some other beauty might feed your spirit. You should visit the gardens more, if they please you. In the meantime, I thought this sachet might make the Great Library’s guardian smile. Yours, Elorin Vahti.

Then, beneath his name, as if added in a hurry , In fact, go visit that garden within the next few days. I will ask about it when I return, and I’ll know if you lie.

“I never lie,” Tiiran muttered to the absent Orin, then recalled himself and where he was and raised his head.

Several stitched notebooks were stacked upon the corner of the desk. The outguards were gone along with several of the assistants. Nikoly’s gaze was on Tiiran.

Tiiran sighed. “They didn’t sign for those reports. They’ll need to before they leave.”

Nikoly nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

Strangely, Tiiran didn’t doubt that he would. He smiled a little, earning him a pleased smile in return before Nikoly’s gaze went to the pouch of rose petals. Tiiran held it to his nose again, then, like a fool himself, held it out for Nikoly to smell too, which Nikoly did, his curls dropping over his brow when he leaned down.

“You like roses?” Nikoly straightened back up. His attention dropped to the letter.

Orin had noticed Tiiran breathing in the scent and felt strongly enough about it to buy the pouch and write him a letter. He had gone out of his way to send Tiiran rose petals to remind him that he should visit them more. Not even remind —he’d told Tiiran to go.

Orin had no right to tell him what to do or when to do it.

“Do you think it will be clear tonight?” Tiiran asked Nikoly anyway. “No late rains?”

“I think so,” Nikoly answered, distracted. “The winds should blow the rains elsewhere. Is he still courting you? I thought you were already his lover.”

Tiiran jolted, then clutched the letter to his chest, wrinkling the paper and Orin’s unlibrarianlike scrawl.

“What?” Tiiran yanked the pouch strings to close it, then stuffed it into a pocket inside his robe. “Orin? Courting me ? Why would he?” He frowned at Nikoly’s stunned expression. “The outguards want nothing to do with me. You just saw that for yourself.”

Nikoly closed his mouth only to open it again. “But he does.”

Tiiran turned his frown to the letter and the delicate task of folding it back into the configuration Orin had used. “Yes.” Mattin might have said Tiiran’s tone was mournful. “He told me he was odd to them. I didn’t believe him but now I see. He doesn’t quite fit. I don’t either. I’m too mean. Too,” he refused to say fae , “unwanted. I guess it gives us things in common.”

He had to unfold and refold the letter several times to get it right. When it was safely inside his robe pocket, he stopped, shivering as Nikoly leaned in closer and spoke nearly against his ear.

“Now you smell like roses.”

Tiiran looked up at him in furious, slightly trembling question. Nikoly raised one eyebrow. Tiiran didn’t know what answer Nikoly expected from that but gestured toward the copying tables and the remaining assistants.

“Orin isn’t shy.” Tiiran did not think about ducklings, or plump asses, or plush mouths. Not with Nikoly in front of him. “He’s probably had several of the librarians currently here.” Tiiran scowled because Nikoly wouldn’t care and then because perhaps Nikoly did care but not for the reasons Tiiran might have first thought. “Are you asking because you have your eye on him?”

Nikoly raised his other eyebrow, making a matching set of surprised confusion. “I don’t have my eye on Orin. I’m only vaguely certain which outguard that even is. I thought you were with him, or at least considering it.”

“You know who he is, even if you don’t know his name,” Tiiran declared confidently. “He’s not handsome like you but he has a presence.” Several expressions flickered across Nikoly’s face before he went almost pointedly blank. “The assistants used to comment on him even when they weren’t fucking him. You see, Orin is very large, even other tall people think so, and, as I said, he has a presence . I’m not good with defining things like that but I once thought that Orin moves as if he is at all times aware of his power, and though he’s not hiding it, if you look, you can see that he is containing it. A stranger might not know he is a well-trained, well-armed outguard with a scholar’s mind without seeing him with a sword or with a book, but you can tell he’s not harmless if you know him at all. So he moves with care.”

Nikoly once again opened his mouth, then shut it.

Tiiran hadn’t actually described Orin well, he realized. Nikoly was probably lost.

“He has a short beard and shiny hair, both dark like blackwood in color,” Tiiran continued. “Sometimes he brings his travel pack and weapons in here but he usually tries to stop to clean up first. He’s the one who leaves lists of the books he’s taken—which had nothing to do with me; he was granted that privilege years before I ever spoke to him. I know outguards are tough and can be dangerous, but Orin is… careful not to seem so when in here. Or at least when talking to me.” Tiiran paused to rub his chest again and think of who or what Orin might have been if he hadn’t joined the Outguard.

Nikoly continued to watch him, so Tiiran tried to find better words.

“He still teases, though in a different way than Po does. And he’s very observant—so watch out if you do meet him, because he will suss out your secrets—and fast.” Nikoly blinked several times. Tiiran felt himself smiling. “Even if he doesn’t say anything, he will have noticed.”

His smile faded almost the moment he finished the description, because with it came the embarrassing realization that Orin almost certainly knew something of how confused and hungry Tiiran was around him.

“Does he often give you gifts?” Nikoly broke into Tiiran’s sad thoughts.

“No.” Tiiran put his hands to his cheeks as if to hide the color. “This is the first. Well, the first that isn’t fetching food or carrying things for me. If one considers those gifts.”

“One does,” Nikoly answered quietly. “That long poem you were copying is for him?”

Tiiran’s back stiffened. His shoulders could have covered his ears. “That’s none of your business. But yes. Not for anything. I just thought he might like it. Oh.” He looked at Nikoly with worry and more embarrassment, but if anyone would know about such things, it was handsome Nikoly. “Is it wrong to do that?” He wouldn’t want Orin to think he was demanding romantic attentions from someone uninterested. “Friends give gifts, don’t they?”

“They do.” Nikoly would not stop regarding Tiiran seriously. It was only making Tiiran warmer and more uncertain with no way to calm down. “As do others,” Nikoly added unhelpfully.

“You’re looking at my eyes again,” Tiiran said as he realized what exactly held Nikoly’s attention.

“They’re a shade of blue now,” Nikoly informed him. “Maybe that’s how Orin learns your secrets.”

Tiiran swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and fought the urge to look away. “If so, he’s very polite about it.”

“You trust him a great deal.”

Tiiran’s eyes had better not be turning any new colors. “Yes.” He didn’t know why he was breathless, or why he said nothing while Nikoly studied his face and his eyes the way Mattin studied old histories. “He said once that he worked hard to get me to relax around him. Most people wouldn’t do that. I’m not offended that no one would, but once he told me he had, it… it felt….” He waved a hand over his chest. “I don’t know how it felt.”

“Good?” Nikoly guessed.

Tiiran shrugged. Weird. Good. Warming. Entirely too much and some other things besides. “Odd,” he said at last. “But as I said, I’m odd too. You don’t have to pretend I’m not. I know I am.”

“I like it,” Nikoly answered without hesitation. “I like you.” He frowned with sudden determination. “You wouldn’t even be that odd to my mentor. She’d admire how you work and how you take care of everyone here.”

“I couldn’t take care of anyone.” Tiiran stared at him blankly. “I wouldn’t know how.”

“Po told me the old Master Keepers never brought breakfast for everyone in the library.” Nikoly smiled at Tiiran’s gasp but went concerned and solemn again almost immediately. “I think you should talk to him.”

“I talk to Orin whenever he visits.” Tiiran decided Nikoly needed some spring tea; he clearly needed something to help sharpen his thoughts.

“ Tiiran .” The patient tone brought Tiiran’s chin up. Nikoly was once again unconcerned with Tiiran’s temper, though his cheekbones appeared faintly darker. “Why do you think Orin took the time to get you to relax?” He barely paused before asking a second question. “Would you like some tea?”

Tiiran was already nodding. “If you’re having some too.”

“With you?” Nikoly gave him a guarded look. His smile when Tiiran nodded again actually stole Tiiran’s breath. Nikoly didn’t seem to notice. “I’d be pleased to, very pleased. Shall I bring it here?”

“I can get it.” Tiiran wasn’t like the old Master Keepers.

“It will be my pleasure.” Nikoly ducked his head. Tiiran opened his mouth, but all that emerged was a strangled, humiliating squeak. Nikoly really was too handsome. Thankfully, before Tiiran made any more noises, Nikoly was off, leaving Tiiran to rearrange things on the desk’s surface to make room for cups of tea, hoping movement would make his limbs less jittery.

He glanced over to the copying tables, as if for an explanation for his restlessness and pounding heart, but the remaining assistants didn’t even glance up, although Mattin did sigh, “ Two ,” over the book in front of him, possibly despairing over needing to make another copy.

Tiiran left him to it, bending over his own work at last, but not before taking the pouch from his robe and holding it beneath his nose.