Page 28 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

28

PAGE

B etween my own research, my psychic powers, and my budding relationship with an ancient alien vampire, I've got enough on my plate. But when a historian friend tells you she's had a breakthrough on something you might be interested in…?

You go. No argument.

Thalara is waiting for me in the entry corridor to the Turitella, at the top of the lift. She’s dressed more casually than usual—no elaborate updos or coral-hued gowns tonight. Instead, her blue-black hair is swept into a simple braid over one shoulder, and she’s wearing a flowing turquoise blouse with pearlescent buttons, a white skirt underneath. She looks younger like this, less like a Merati princess and more like someone I might have gone to school with.

“You look excited,” I say as I approach, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Which honestly has me excited.”

“You should be!” she replies with a grin. “You’ve piqued my curiosity too much, Page. Borean history…Borean al liances. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since our last visit.”

I blink at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come.” She loops her arm through mine. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

We reach the annex and then Thalara is guiding me down into the stacks, where I found her the last time I was here. This time, Thalara doesn’t stop there. She leads me down a narrow corridor lined with shimmering mother-of-pearl panels. The light here is softer, gentler, casting rippling patterns on the marble floor as though we’re walking beneath the waves.

“This is one of my favorite places in the tower,” Thalara says as she directs me into a study carrel tucked into a quiet corner. She closes the door behind us, then sits down at the table. “Perfect for long conversations and uncovering ancient secrets.”

I settle into the chair opposite her, glancing around at the compact yet cozy space. The walls are lined with glowing shelves, each one filled with thin, iridescent tablets and slender books bound in materials I don’t recognize. On the desk between us, Thalara has already arranged a small stack of texts, their covers ranging from richly embossed leather to smooth, pearly surfaces.

“Are we diving into Merati history today?” I ask, nodding toward the pile.

“Not just Merati,” she replies, her tone suddenly more serious. She picks up one of the mother-of-pearl tablets, running her fingers over the engraved characters with a reverence that makes me sit up a little straighter. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…but you must promise to keep it between us.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course.”

Thalara sets the tablet down gently and leans forward, lowering her voice. “The Merati don’t like to talk about this, but we have a long history with the Boreans. Much longer than most people realize.”

“What kind of history?” I ask.

“Allies,” she says simply. “And more than that—there was intermarriage. Hundreds, possibly thousands of unions, recorded on tablets like this one.” She taps the smooth surface of the tablet on the desk. “It’s not something we advertise, but there was a time when our peoples were deeply intertwined.”

I blink, trying to process the weight of what she’s saying. “Intermarriage? But the Boreans were?—”

“Terrifying?” Thalara finishes for me, a hint of a smirk on her lips. It's a look I know well—the look you get when you find something in the archive you know is going to piss the right people off. “Yes, to most. But to the Merati, they were something else entirely. Partners. Collaborators. Like, if you look here…” she slides a tablet over to me, “the Homeworld War of Reclamation wasn't waged against a Borean usurper; she was the rightful queen, intermarried with one of our male heirs…and half-Merati.”

Merati history isn’t my specialty, but I try to think back to that war—when a Borean magister intent on mining Homeworld for Elixir was overthrown by a Merati prince and his human consort. “Queen Lamia was Merati?”

Thalara nods, eyes sparkling. “It’s why some of our oldest cities are built with Boreans in mind—the architecture, the materials, even the pathways through our underwater domes. They were the first surface dwellers we ever came into contact with…and we got the transmatter technology needed to walk on land from them.”

I stare at her, stunned. “Why doesn’t anyone talk about this?”

“Because it doesn’t fit the narrative,” she replies, her expression sobering. “The Boreans are remembered as conquerors, and the Merati are remembered as diplomats. To admit that we were once allies complicates that story. It forces us to confront the fact that we weren’t always the serene, enlightened race we claim to be.”

The revelation sets my thoughts whirling, heavy with implications. I think of Thorne, of his reluctant confessions about Borean history, of the guilt he carries. His people were villains, yes…but it's always more complicated than that. In every authoritarian society, there are dissenters, outliers, fugitives.

And those authoritarians often have secret sympathizers that would sweep those sympathies under the rug when the authoritarian falls.

“And what happened?” I ask. “Why did it end?”

Thalara hesitates, glancing down at the tablet in her hands. “War,” she says finally. “The Boreans turned their gaze outward, to the stars, while the Merati turned inward, focusing on preserving our way of life. When the Boreans began their campaigns of expansion and conquest, the alliance fractured. The Merati withdrew, retreating into our oceans, while the Boreans…” she trails off, shaking her head. “Well, you know what happened to them.”

I nod slowly. “But this…this is a major shift in the historiography, Thalara,” I say. “You've found something really amazing. And it gives a bit more nuance to the Borean story, doesn't it?”

“Hm,” Thalara says, chewing on her lip. “Well…I think so, yes, but that point of view isn’t exactly popular on M’mir. You must remember that, given the length of our lifespans, there are people here who were alive during the Convergence, or the War of Reclamation, or…gods, any conflict? I mean, Lyn and Riley’s supervisor, Dr. Rhyss? His planet cracked from Elixir extraction. It’s gone. ”

I look into her eyes, searching them for any sign that she could be an ally in this. I’m starting to think there’s no way around this but to bring Thorne back into mainstream society if we’re going to be together.

And that…it’s important to me.

I think I need him.

“Thalara,” I murmur. I glance toward the door. Even though I know the room is private, what I’m about to ask feels too dangerous to say aloud. “Do you know if there are any Boreans left? Like…hiding out, or something. It seems like they would be an invaluable source.”

I can tell she senses something sketchy going on by the way she frowns, but she couldn’t possibly guess—the reality is far too strange to imagine. “That’s like…” she pauses. “Page, the Boreans were capable of so much; they could read minds, move things without touching them, fly…some had other powers, too, that we’ll never fully understand.”

“I get that,” I start, “but?—”

“If any Borean were alive…” she cuts me off, rare for her as she’s usually so polite, “I’m trying to think of a metaphor that makes sense on Earth. It’s like…asking if you could interview someone who doesn’t want to be interviewed while they point a loaded gun at you. Too dangerous.”

Fuck…they really have no idea, do they? Of course, Thorne has told me he’s done terrible things, and he’s urged me to believe him—but he’s not like that. He reads books, has a cute pet, seems to be more interested in giving me orgasms than world domination.

And I trust him. I’ve been in his head, walls down.

When I don’t respond, Thalara bites her lip, lowering her voice. “Page,” she whispers. “Did you find something in the Obscuary that’s led you to believe there are still Boreans out there?”

I shake my head a little too quickly, laughing it off and waving my hand. Fuck, I’m a horrible liar. “No,” I tell her. “Just…a wishful historian, dreaming of the perfect source. You’re absolutely right.”

“Are you sure?” she says. “Because if you did, I think you should tell Professor Ferhalda?—”

“I should get going,” I cut in, then gesture at the books on the table. “Is it okay if I take these?”

“Yeah,” she nods, clearly startled. “Um, Page, please don’t go. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not you, it’s me,” I promise. “Just…you know how it is when we get on weird flights of fancy. Historian stuff.”

Thalara doesn’t look convinced, but to my relief, she doesn’t push any further. I gather the stack of books into my bag, leaving the delicate tablets. My heart is still racing from her questions. If she knew the truth—if anyone knew the truth—I could lose him.

It scares me more than I expected.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting,” I say, forcing a smile as I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe we could co-author a paper somewhere down the road.”

Thalara stands, fidgeting with her blouse. “Page,” she starts, hesitant. “You know you can trust me, right? If there’s something going on…something you’re afraid to say, I’ll listen. I won’t tell anyone, not even Professor Ferhalda.”

The sincerity in her voice makes me hesitate. Thalara is an ally, I remind myself; or at least, she could be. But the risk is too great. She might think she can keep a secret, but if she knew what I was hiding, it would only take one slip, one stray thought in the wrong company, and Thorne would be hunted down.

And he’s only got a few years. If he gets wrapped up in some kind of tribunal, if he’s taken away from me…I could lose him forever .

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her shoulders relax a little, though the concern doesn’t leave her eyes, and her final words chill me as I walk through the door.

“Page, be careful. Sometimes the past is better left buried.”