Page 34 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

34

THORNE

T he touch of Page’s mind is hesitant as she makes her way to the Obscuary tonight, later than usual. She’s troubled…but I don’t think she wants to trouble me , and she doesn’t seem to understand that this secrecy makes me want to scream.

I can feel her hesitation, the way she’s trying to shield me from something…but the harder she tries to keep me out, the more it gnaws at me.

I’m pacing the length of my alcove when she finally arrives, the bookcase sliding open. Ashlan, curled up on a stack of books, perks up, watching for her.

“Page,” I murmur, just before she appears in the entrance. She steps inside and quickly closes it again, her face drawn, clutching a book against her chest.

I go to her immediately, taking her by the shoulders and searching her eyes for what’s wrong. I brush a strand of hair back from her face, resisting the urge to dive into her thoughts uninvited.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. “Your thoughts have been racing all day and you wouldn’t let me in?—”

“It’s Davina,” she says, closing her eyes and leaning into my touch. “She’s suspicious, Thorne. I had to tell her something–enough to keep her from digging further.”

“What…?”

She sighs. “I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Well, you failed?—”

“I know,” she murmurs. She raises her hand to rest lightly on my chest, as if she could calm me through touch alone. Not today—not when she feels so nervous herself. “I can feel it all over you; just…come in. Let me show you.”

Her mind opens, spilling her entire day out to me…and I see.

The memory is vivid, as if I’m in Page’s skin. I’m sitting across from Professor Davina Ferhalda in her office, the Skoll female’s antlers gleaming, her piercing gaze fixed on Page.

“I was looking over approvals…saw that your brother was approved. Care to explain why he might pay the archive a visit?”

Page’s lie is quick, but fragile. The conversation seems friendly enough, but Davina is clearly suspicious. Page holds her ground, but I can feel the tension coiling tighter with every word.

Then, Page takes a calculated risk: she asks about me.

Thorne Valtheris .

I pull away from Page abruptly, taking a step back from her.

“Gods preserve me,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “You shouldn’t have taken that risk; asking her about me…even knowing my name puts you in danger.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she says, clearly frustrated. “She was digging, Thorne. She was going to find something eventually…so I had to redirect her. And besides… ”

She hesitates, then presses the book she’s been clutching into my hands. Her fingers linger for a moment, brushing against mine as she looks up at me, stubborn as always.

“Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’s ever been interested in your work,” she says. “Thorne, you’re a known figure in the history of Borean dissent. Look!”

I glance down at the book, the title etched in elegant Skoll script: Voices of Dissent: Forgotten Rebels of the Borean Empire.

I shake my head. “Page…I wasn’t a rebel. I didn’t fight. I ran.”

“But you’re here, in this book,” she says. “I searched the references and your work is cited in the chapters on imperial expansion on the Nyeri’i homeworld, the creation of Skoll thralls…I had no idea, Thorne. You never told me you were writing about ethics, it’s so eloquent, brilliant?—”

“You need to stop,” I say through gritted teeth.

Page’s shoulders slump, at a loss. “What did I say?”

For a moment, I can’t answer. My grip tightens on the book, the weight of it suddenly unbearable. Her words echo in my mind— eloquent, brilliant .

I put the book down like it burns to touch, turning my back to it as I rake both hands through my hair. “It wasn’t eloquent or brilliant, Page. It was useless,” I mutter. “Words didn’t stop the Borean Empire. They didn’t save anyone. All they did was give me a reason to pretend I wasn’t part of it.”

She flinches, and guilt twists in my gut. But I can’t stop myself.

“Page,” I continue, stronger now. “You don’t understand. What I wrote didn’t change anything. It didn’t matter.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, her gaze fixed on me. “I think people’s actions matter, Thorne. Otherwise…what the hell is the point in studying history? If we only care about outcomes, we can’t see the subtleties of the past?— ”

“You’re letting your feelings for me paint your historical objectivity,” I interrupt. “It’s the bond again. You need to?—”

“Fuck off, Thorne.”

I pause, staring at her. Page’s fists are clenched at her side, her shoulders tense, mouth tight.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not a child, Thorne,” she says. “You have…God, you have no respect for me, do you? I won a scholarship to Harvard when I was seventeen. I graduated early. I was on the Dean’s List, I was invited to study with Merati scholars, spent time in summer programs…I’m one of the youngest historians to get a fellowship working in the Obscuary. So you need to fuck right off with that shit.”

I raise my eyebrows, her profanities grating on my already short patience. “Do I?”

“Yes, because I don’t have love blinders on, Thorne. I’m a historian, I’ve spent my entire career learning how to practice empathy while still remaining critical. Maybe I have a clearer perspective on all of this because I wasn’t there.”

Really? The audacity…when she claimed it was me who didn’t respect her?

I take a step closer to her, angry now. She doesn’t so much as flinch, even when I face her down. I’m tempted to pour my memories into her, show her all the things she claims to understand so well…but I fear it would only give her greater sympathy toward me.

So I grit my teeth and try to breathe.

“Imagine, Page,” I start, “that you are watching the wholesale enslavement of the Skoll. Broken bargains, lies and deceit…your military commanders destroying their willpower through telepathy. And across the galaxy, on Eyela, on the Nyeri’i homeworld…your doctors and scientists are carrying out hideous experiments. They extract Elixir until it cracks the planet. ”

“I know all of this,” she tries to interrupt. “Thorne, come on?—”

“But that isn’t the point I’m trying to make,” I go on. “The point is that my reaction was to write . Not to go to Eyela and get those victims out. Not to visit Kanin and join with the resistance—because there was, in fact, a resistance, and Boreans were among them…but they died natural deaths.”

That, at least, seems to surprise her. She finally falters, eyes flickering for just a moment.

“That wasn’t in the sources,” she says.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I say. “Because I retracted my statements on it so I could continue to receive my share of Elixir. And when I said too much, and the Empire finally came for me, I didn’t stand up for myself. I ran.”

“Fine,” she snaps, her temper reigniting. “ Fine , Goddamn it, but you are missing the fucking point.”

I open my mouth to retort, but she cuts me off, stepping closer, her words tumbling out in a rush.

“I have to find a way to convince the university that you are not a monster, Thorne!” she shouts, voice cracking. “Do you understand? I love you, and you are making this so, so hard.”

Her voice breaks on those last words, a wave of energy rolling off her and disturbing the dust in the room.

And it’s only then that I see the tears in her eyes. The shift is so abrupt that I don’t know what to say or how to react—her anger giving way to something deeper, something I wasn’t prepared for. I didn’t think she could pivot this quickly to despair, but she’s crying now, and I caused that …

“Page…” My voice softens instinctively, hands twitching as I resist the urge to pull her into my arms. I don’t think she wants to be touched right now. “I am trying to protect you. You’re everything to me.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, I think she might let me closer. But then her shoulders stiffen and she swipes her tears away with the back of her hand, expression hardening like she realized she forgot to be angry.

“If you mean that, the self-flagellation has to stop,” she says. She’s talking through it to try to regain her footing, her composure, and I watch as she calms herself. “I get it. You’re carrying centuries of guilt, and you think you’re doing me a favor by keeping me at arm’s length. But at this point…it’s hot and cold. It’s confusing . One minute you’re promising me a normal life and babies and…and trying …and the next you’re back in this fucking spiral. I need you to work with me.”

I look into her eyes, which are shining bright silver. She’s unyielding.

“I don’t deserve you,” I murmur.

She shakes her head and splays out her hands with a shrug. “Too bad. You have me.”

We stand there for a long time, at an impasse. She’s said her piece; I’ve said mine.

And as usual, she’s right.

“Look,” she says. “All I want is for you to read the book, see if it stirs up some memories. I have to start building a case for your redemption, and we have two weeks to do it. So…read the book. Contact me if you find something that could help.”

“Contact you?” I frown. “You’re not coming back?”

“Things are too hot right now,” she sighs. “Davina is going to be watching the time I spend in the Obscuary, and I have a lot of work to do.”

I nod, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to find the words to tell her how much I hate that she has to go, how much I need her here. She slides the bookcase open, stepping into the corridor.

“Page,” I call after her, and she pauses, looking back at me .

“I love you,” I say, voice rough.

She smiles. “I love you too, Thorne. Even when you’re being impossible.”

And then she’s gone, the bookcase sliding shut behind her.

The silence in the alcove is deafening, the book glaring at me from the table. I reluctantly pick it up, the title staring back at me.

Voices of Dissent: Forgotten Rebels of the Borean Empire

It’s ridiculous. Probably sentimental drivel. But with a sigh, I open the cover. The first words on the page are a dedication: “To those who stood, even when it cost them everything.”

I close my eyes, the weight of those words pressing down on me. And then, slowly, I turn the page and begin to read.