Page 5 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

G abriel opened one of the double doors and stepped into the dark library ahead of Ro. “I’ll need to get a fire going and light some candles.”

Ro followed him. “I can’t see a thing.” The rainclouds kept any moonlight from entering the windows, but the smell of leather, old paper, and ink were enough to reassure Ro that they were indeed in a library.

She smiled. What was it about that scent that instantly calmed her?

The scrape of flint and metal was followed by a few sparks, and a fire burst to life behind her, thankfully contained in the hearth of an enormous fireplace. Bigger than the one in her dream, although the details of that had begun to fade.

Gabriel added kindling and a few small splits of wood. As the fire increased, she could make out more details. Like the seating area in front of the fireplace that wasn’t too far off from what she’d seen in her dream.

She walked over to have a better look at the painting above the fireplace. A stately man in a very familiar crown smiled down at them.

“King Reedly,” Gabriel said.

She’d worn that same crown for her own coronation. She hoped her reign ended better than his.

But enough of that; they had work to do.

“Could we just say ‘lights’?” Ro asked. As that didn’t result in any candles or lamps coming to life, she’d essentially answered her own question.

He found a lamp on a nearby table, pulled off the glass chimney, and lit the wick on the fire. “Unfortunately, no. This room was protected against magic many years ago, well before my time, maybe even before Uldamar’s days.”

“Why?”

“From what I know, there was a fire in Castle Clarion caused by a young apprentice’s spell gone awry.

It nearly made it to the library. One wall was burnt enough that it needed replacing.

After that it was deemed that no magic should be allowed to penetrate these walls and so they were warded against that very thing. ”

“So no magic can be performed in here?”

He replaced the glass chimney and adjusted the wick before joining her. “Magic can be performed, but it must be of the moment. Nothing preset.”

“So how do you find books?” At Willow Hall, there had been librarians, but anyone who’d wanted could find a book just by holding out their hand and requesting what they wanted.

“There is a palace librarian, although obviously not on duty now.” He smiled. “We’ll have to use the card catalog.”

She laughed. “Just like the old days. I love it.”

“Let me get a few more lamps lit, or we’ll never be able to read a thing.”

“I can help.”

He lit another lamp and handed it to her. She went to one side of the library while he took the other. Soon, they had lamps ablaze all across the room. Ro was thrilled to see the space resembled the libraries in Willow Hall, right down to having a few stained-glass panels on the far wall.

She stood staring at them as Gabriel joined her. They were lovely, even in the dim light. “I can’t quite make them out.”

He shook his head. “Looks like some kind of a love story. I’m sorry, I don’t know what the windows are meant to depict. But I imagine they’re beautiful with the sun shining through.”

“I bet that’s something to see indeed.” She turned to him. “How does this card catalog work?”

“By subject, then alphabetically.”

“You really think the book in my dream could be real?”

“Your dreams are your magic. Anything is possible.”

She nodded, not sure she completely bought into that. “I guess I’m just not used to them being a form of magic. I haven’t had many prophetic dreams so far.”

“For someone who only just fully became fae, your magic is progressing at an impressive pace. Trust me.” He tipped his head to the left. “This way.”

The card catalog resembled the kind once used to organize mortal libraries, except most of those had been more like small metal filing cabinets.

This one was a large, ornate wooden dresser with dozens of different drawers, the exterior decorated with carved dragonflies, beetles, and curling vines. Each drawer was numbered.

She ran her hand over one of the carvings before setting her lamp on the top of the dresser. “It’s a piece of artwork all by itself.”

Gabriel put his lamp beside hers, then took a large, cloth-bound book off the top and opened it. “What category do you think that book would be? Instructional? Magic? Ancient Texts?”

“Could be any of those. Or all of them. Maybe Poetry? This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” She sighed. “I haven’t really missed computers until now.”

He cut his eyes at her in obvious amusement before paging through the book. “Let’s try Drawer 9. Poetry, Instructional.”

“That’s got its own drawer?”

“No, it’s just a small section, but it’s in Drawer 9.”

“Got it.” She pulled that drawer open. It was somehow longer than the cabinet was deep, but she’d learned early on not to question such things in this realm. It was filled with cards, much like the old system she’d known in the mortal world. “Where does Poetry, Instructional start?”

“With 300.”

“Okay.” She found that in the drawer and went through each card, looking at the book titles. Fortunately, they were alphabetized, but she read all of them, just in case a card had been replaced out of order. “Nope. Not in there.”

“Try Drawer 101. Poetry, Magical.”

She closed Drawer 9 and moved on. But again, there was no title even close to The Red Tome of Caer Wyld. The next two drawers were the same. She straightened. “Maybe we should just walk the aisles and look at the titles? Or wait for the librarian tomorrow?”

“Giving up so soon? I thought you weren’t a quitter.”

She shot him a look. He was clearly amused with himself. “It’s late, we still haven’t eaten, and we’re trying to find a book that appeared to me in a dream and probably doesn’t even exist.”

He shook his head sadly, amusement still twinkling in his eyes. “Our valiant queen has given up. A sad day, indeed.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Okay, where do you think we should look?”

“Your idea of walking the aisles isn’t a bad one. What did the cover look like? What color?”

“Green cloth with gold accents.”

His eyes narrowed. “A book called The Red Tome of Caer Wyld was bound in green?”

She shrugged. “It was a dream. You can’t expect everything to make sense.”

“True.” He set the catalog book down and picked up his lamp. “I’ll take this side, you take that one, and we’ll meet in the middle.”

“Deal.” She took her lamp and headed for the first section of shelves. She focused on looking for green books and glints of gold foil, but every one she found was not the book she wanted. Even so, she saw quite a few titles that intrigued her.

Once things settled down, she was coming back here and losing herself in a good story. In fact, maybe she should create a kingdom-wide holiday that was dedicated to reading. Couldn’t feel guilty about taking a week off to do nothing but read if that was what was expected.

“Ro!”

She turned and went back to the end of the row. Gabriel was standing by the fireplace, holding up a red book.

“Is this it?”

She shook her head as she walked toward him. “I don’t think so. It’s not the right color.”

“But look at the title.” He turned the book toward her.

She sucked in a breath at the tree image embossed on the front. Above it were the words, Red Leaves of the Wild Court. “Where did you find that?”

“It was right here on the table next to this chair.”

“I don’t remember seeing a book on that table when we came in.”

He looked at the table like he was trying to remember. “I didn’t really pay attention, but I don’t think I did, either.”

She swallowed. “Just like in my dream. This is … weird.”

“Magic often is.” He held the book out. “Here, see if you can find the poem.”

She put her lamp down on the table beside the chair, took the book, and sat. She flipped through the pages, trying to remember where the poem had been in the dream book.

This book was filled with poems, forcing her to read the first lines of each one before she could eliminate it.

Then she read something she recognized. She stopped, then started again out loud.

When light’s devoured and night takes wing,

The bells of ruin soon shall ring.

The crown shall crack, the firelight wane,

The storm shall howl for blood and flame.

A path shall open, sharp as bone,

That leads unto the shadowed throne.

There must the hand of peace be shown,

Or none shall rise, and none atone.

Seek not the sun, nor trust the day.

The Caer Wyld will show the way.

“Is that the same poem from your dream?” Gabriel asked.

“It is.” She nodded, mystified by how it could be. She looked up at him. “Does that mean anything to you? What’s the Caer Wyld?”

He rubbed at his chin. “It’s not a term I’ve heard in a long time, but it means Wild Court. Used to be another way of referring to the neph.”

“What’s the neph?”

“Not what. Who.” He frowned like it wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss. “They’re a race you’d probably refer to in the mortal world as elves.”

“Elves are cool.” She smiled. “Do they really make great fudge cookies in treehouses? Or are they just devastatingly handsome and great with a bow and arrow?”

He wasn’t smiling. “They are neither, but they’ve done a good job of portraying themselves as noble and harmless in the mortal realm.”

“So they’re not noble or harmless?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know about noble. But harmless?” He shook his head. “They are dangerous creatures, capable of taking on any form they desire. Changelings. In my opinion, it would be best to leave them alone.”

“Maybe. But that’s not what the dream, or this poem, seems to be telling me.”