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Nemesia

The fae tell many stories about the origin of our world. One of the most popular usually follows this structure: our once united world was torn apart long ago by a terrible and immense display of power. When all seemed lost in the Great War, the witches sealed away the darkness. Kingdoms disappeared, and families lost their loved ones to the other side of the world. The act cost the witches more than their lives, and the world as we know it was born from their sacrifice.

The Legends of the Fae, Volume II

There’s a knock on my door, and I groan. It’s the Winter Solstice, and I fully intended to keep my own kingdom’s traditions by not doing anything today. I close my eyes, content to ignore whoever it is. The knock sounds again, more insistent in its pounding.

“Coming,” I yell at whoever’s disturbing me. When I open the door, a servant stands there holding a box wrapped in gold paper with a gold bow on top. She bows.

“His Majesty King Mazus wished me to deliver this Solstice gift to you.” Her eyes dart around as if Mazus will appear at any moment. Taking the giant gift, I thank her before shutting the door and lugging it to my desk. There’s a note attached to the bow on top.

Dear General Nestern,

You may not be aware, but it is tradition to exchange gifts on the Winter Solstice here in Velmara. As I had promised you a selection of books from my personal collection, I thought presenting them as a gift on this holiday seemed appropriate. Please accept these rather interesting tomes as an extension of the friendship I so wish for Velmara and Thayaria. Happy Solstice!

His Royal Majesty, King Mazus, Golden King of Velmara

I roll my eyes despite my excitement and eagerly unwrap the package to find four books inside. Scanning the titles, I’m surprised by what I find. The Secrets and Stories of Velmara, Blood Magic Through the Ages, The History of the Aether, and a book title in Old Fae. I think it loosely translates to The Legends of the Fae. Why would Mazus send me these books? Once again, his motivations are unclear, and it brings an uneasy feeling to my gut. Under any other circumstances, this gift would be the best I’d ever received. But anything I discover in these books will serve Mazus’s aims, and that can’t be a good thing.

I scan the book titles again, lost in thought. My attention snags on the book on blood magic, and I open it, scanning the table of contents. It appears to be structured chronologically, detailing what various scholars thought about blood magic at different points of history. Sighing, I close the volume. Maybe the gift isn’t as helpful as I thought.

Over the months I’ve been here, my frustration with the archives has been slowly growing. Every book seems to be an anthology or review of other literature, but those primary research texts don’t exist anymore. I have to trust that what I’m reading is an accurate summary of those earlier works, and when you’re dealing with history this ancient, so much can get lost in translation or through the bias of the scholar reviewing the literature. Every day I wake up, do a bit of training in the underground cavern Mazus made available to me, then head to the archives, where I sit for hours and hours reading anthologies of other research. My life unfortunately consists of very little outside of that—I’m relentless in my desire to find information to help Laurel and Thayaria.

After my dinner with Mazus several weeks ago, I shifted my research to the history of leylines as he had suggested, though the same challenge remained. Based on the breadth of writings available in the archives, I’ve confirmed what I already suspected—leylines reflect the magic of our world, and the presence of thayar flowers in Thayaria is because of the numerous leylines that cross the kingdom. The thayar flower seems to be directly related to the magic of our world. I’ve also ascertained that several leylines used to cross the Nivan Desert but disappeared inexplicably. This explains why thayar flowers used to be present in Velmara but disappeared when the leylines did. These revelations are concerning for many reasons, not least of which is that it could indicate the magic coursing through Thayaria is declining. That the decline in thayar blooms is the symptom, not the cause. The history is ancient, dating back thousands and thousands of years, so it’s hard to decipher what’s real and what is only speculation. Several texts even used different names for the kingdoms of our realm. I’ve yet to work out which name corresponds to which modern kingdom name.

My eyes catch again on the book in Old Fae, and hope rises in my chest that this might be a primary or original work of research. I open the dusty and massive volume, eyes blurring at the tiny characters. This is going to be challenging. I pull out a sheet of parchment to use as a scratch pad while I translate. The table of contents reveals that the book is structured around various topics, from the origins of the fae to ancient religion. A section on mates catches my attention, and I furrow my brows, flipping to that part.

I can translate about every fifth word and groan at my rusty translation skills. I’ll need to get an Old Fae dictionary from the archives, which means I have to leave my room on the Winter Solstice. Laurel would be outraged. We spend nearly every Solstice together, holed up in one of our chambers reading and eating sweets, refusing to leave or even change out of our night clothes.

A thought crosses my mind, turning around my sour mood. The Velmarans celebrate this holiday as well, which means the librarians won’t be working today, and I might be able to slip in and have the archives completely to myself. Mazus didn’t set any parameters about when I wasn’t allowed there—he had granted full access.

After dressing quickly, I make my way through the deserted castle to the wing dedicated to the archives. When I arrive, the doors are shut, and I worry they’ve been locked for the holiday. With a gentle push, however, they glide open easily. The massive entryway is eerily quiet compared to the usual noise of at least a dozen librarians walking about to direct patrons to the right section. The high ceilings are capped by a massive stained-glass dome that covers the entryway, letting in soft light that paints the marble floor in hues of red, yellow, and green. As I walk across the floor, my steps echo in the cavernous space.

Turning down the corridor that leads to the language section, I scan the paintings on the walls that I’ve never had the luxury to observe before, too caught up in my research to wander. There are depictions of the rolling golden plains of Velmara, and surprisingly, a painting of what must be Thayaria with its verdant and mountainous landscape. I check all the other artwork, but no other kingdom is represented, though there are several more paintings of Thayaria.

Lost in thought about what that could mean, and remembering Lobelia’s strange comment at the Forum about returning Velmara and Thayaria to allies as they once were, I crash right into another person.

“I’m so sorry,” Genevieve says from where I’ve knocked her to the ground. I offer my hand to help her up, and her soft skin momentarily distracts me from my whirling mind.

“No, no, it was completely my fault. I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going.” She grins, and it lights up her whole face.

“We’re both at fault then, because my nose was in a book,” she says as she bends to pick up the book she dropped when I smacked into her.

“Why are you here in the archives instead of celebrating the holiday?” I ask, and her cheeks flush slightly.

“I don’t have family to celebrate with, and I love the archives on holidays when it’s completely empty. There’s nothing to do but read at my own leisure.” I hide my surprise that she has no family and change the subject, not wanting to pry.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m in here. I was also hoping to find it deserted.” I give her a mischievous look that brings another radiant smile to her face.

“Well, Dern wouldn’t like it, but he isn’t here!” she exclaims brightly, and I laugh.

“I don’t want to get you into any trouble—”

“You won’t. It’s not really a rule, just the result of his stubbornness and prejudice. Can I help you find anything?”

“Actually, yes. I’m looking for an Old Fae dictionary so I can refresh my vocabulary of the language. It’s been a while since I read anything in it.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “You can read Old Fae?”

“Not well,” I admit. “But enough to translate with the right lexicon nearby.”

“This way,” she says with a quick pivot on her heel. I trail behind her through several corridors and rows of books before she stops in what looks like the oldest and dustiest corner of the entire place. Her brows furrow in concentration as she scans the book titles, and she bites her bottom lip in a tantalizing movement.

“Here it is!” she exclaims in triumph, eyes shining brightly as she hands me a massive and crumbling tome.

“Thank you,” I say, and we stand awkwardly for a few beats. “Would you like to read together?” I ask to break the silence.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to disturb you,” she says, though without much resolve.

“Nonsense. It’s a holiday, and I would love the company. It’s a bit lonely here on days like today.”

Her expression softens. “I can imagine how hard it must be to be in another kingdom, away from your family and friends, on days like today.” The compassion and understanding in her voice makes my throat tighten uncomfortably, so I turn away before she can notice.

“Do you have a favorite reading nook?” She gives me the most ornery grin I’ve ever seen.

“Follow me, Ambassador.”

She leads me to an area of the Archives I’ve never been, even during her tour, then up a winding spiral staircase. When we reach the top, my jaw drops. There’s a small platform tucked right where the stained-glass dome meets the walls, somehow invisible from the entryway. It’s only about twelve feet in either direction, but a worktable with chairs along with several hanging hammocks create the coziest looking alcove I’ve ever seen.

“This is amazing,” I mutter. Genevieve beams at me, her expression so unguarded and open it takes me aback.

“Not many know about it, and the rest of the librarians would never be caught using such a small space as their office. They all prefer the larger, ground-level offices, but as soon as I discovered this space, I knew I had to claim it.”

Light dances across the alcove in more intense colors this close to the stained-glass dome, and the heat from the windows warms the room to a perfect temperature. When I’m done gaping at her office, we both set up—me at the table so I can spread out my books and Genevieve in one of the swinging hammocks. I get to work translating, and she loses herself equally in whatever it is she’s reading.

After an hour or so, she stands, stretching her arms above her head in a way that I try not to notice shows off her figure. Padding over to sit across from me, she places her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, looking at me with an innocent curiosity.

“Can I ask what you’re translating? There aren’t any Old Fae books in the archives.”

“His Majesty provided me with several books from his personal collection. As far as I can tell, this book is a collection of stories about the fae.”

She claps her hands in delight. “That is a most high honor from His Majesty!” Her entire body quivers, clearly excited to simply know someone who’s been granted access to Mazus’s personal collection. “Would you permit me to examine the books? Only when you are done with them, of course.”

I smile at her enthusiasm, noticing the way it makes her features even more radiant. Internally chastising myself for getting distracted by a pretty face, I respond, “Of course, I’d be happy to share them with you when I’m done. In fact, you can look at the others while I’m busy translating this one.” I nudge the three books toward her.

Genuine thrill crosses her expression. “Thank you.” She picks up the book titled The Secrets and Stories of Velmara and immediately dives into reading. Studying her, I wonder whether I can trust her with my concerns about Mazus providing me the books. It would be helpful to have another person reviewing the contents of them with skepticism.

“What do you think of King Mazus?” I ask, hoping to ease into the conversation carefully.

Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know him very well,” I say slowly. “I was… surprised to receive these books from him. I’m just curious about him, I guess.” Hopefully that is open ended enough.

“We are taught from an early age about the Golden King. He’s ruled Velmara for hundreds and hundreds of years, and the kingdom has prospered under his leadership,” she responds by rote. The words sound rehearsed, and her eyes almost look distant, like she’s dissociating from what she says.

I press further. “That doesn’t sound like an answer to my question.” I keep my expression cool, giving nothing away as I stare at her. Her shoulders tense for the briefest moment. There’s something here.

“As one of the youngest librarians, I’m often assigned the task of documenting the King’s speeches or other informational materials. I file them away in the section on his rule and cross-check his words against information in the archives.” Her eyes are filled with meaning, but I don’t understand what she’s trying to tell me. I’m about to ask her to speak plainly when she abruptly changes the subject. “Would you like some tea? I’d like to go make myself a cup.” Before I can even answer her question, she’s gone, slipping down the stairs in a blur. The conversation clearly made her uncomfortable, but for what reason, I can’t say.

When she returns, two mugs of steaming tea in her hands, I don’t continue the conversation. We sit side by side in silence, each reading one of Mazus’s books. Genevieve takes furious notes as her eyes dart across the pages of the book on Velmara. After only an hour, she’s filled pages and pages with her scribbles. I want to examine them, curious what she’s found that’s so noteworthy, but I leave it be. I clearly spooked her with my questions about Mazus. There’s more to what she said, but I need to probe delicately.

When the setting sun makes the light dance across the table in a soft glow, we both simultaneously decide to leave at the same time, turning to one another and speaking over one another.

“We should—” Genevieve says.

“Well, it’s getting late,” I say.

She giggles loudly while I let out a soft chuckle, then we stand there awkwardly, unsure what to say. The moment stretches with tension, though it’s not unpleasant. A million possibilities expand before us as we stare at one another, a question hovering in the space between us, though I’m not sure what it is. Is she—Could she be—

“Would you like to walk through the gardens of the palace?” Genevieve finally asks, interrupting my thoughts, eyes bright. “They are beautiful at sunset and will be as empty as the library.” I can’t keep the soft and warm smile that breaks out across my face. Something about Genevieve brings out a gentleness in me that I’m not sure I’ve ever shown anyone, wasn’t even sure I possessed.

“Yes, I’d like that,” I answer softly before following her out of the library and through the halls of the castle.

“Did you always want to be a librarian?” I ask a half hour later as we stroll through the manicured garden built in the center of the Velmaran castle. The garden’s nice at this time of night, with perfectly trimmed hedges and trees lining a sandy path. Only a few flowering bushes add any color to the space. It’s nothing compared to the lush gardens and verdant landscape of Thayaria.

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m part of the Kalmeera noble family.” I raise my brows, recognizing the name as the most powerful and wealthy family name in Velmara. “My mother was the sister of Silas Kalmeera. She married my father, another distant Kalmeera cousin, when she was only forty years old. She died giving birth to me at forty-two, bringing great shame to my family. My father married another Kalmeera cousin and left me to be raised by my uncle Silas and his wife. Silas’ daughter, Silene, is one of the ambassadors who went to Thayaria, actually. She’s much younger than me.” She delivers the information straight forward, with that same bright and cheery energy she always has, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to tell a practical stranger about her family history. I recall the brief meeting with her cousin as I left Thayaria, and I can’t believe I didn’t put the connection together before. They look remarkably similar. “Anyway, I was raised to be a wife and a mother, as all noble females are. But since my mother died in childbirth, there was a fear I would inherit her weak constitution. Silas struggled to betroth me. So he gave me to the archives instead.” She says the last part as if it’s the best thing to have ever happened to her, and I can’t help but agree with the sentiment.

“And do you like your life as a librarian?”

“I do, very much,” she says with a soft smile, eyes distant as if, even now, she’s thinking about the books she wants to read. “I much prefer it to being a wife to some male I despise.” I snort in laughter, and she gives me a conspiratorial grin.

“In Thayaria, females are valued for more than their childbearing. Many female fae choose to stay unmarried.” Genevieve looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, and I laugh. “It’s true. We even let females and human women serve as soldiers or Royal Guards.” Her expression is incredulous.

“I enjoy my life as a librarian…” she says slowly. “But I’ve always wondered, if other opportunities had been available to me…” she trails off, not willing to say the words aloud. It breaks my heart a little. Genevieve is clearly someone with a deep well of energy and intelligence, two traits that would have opened many doors for her in Thayaria. “Do you enjoy being an ambassador?” she asks, though I get the sense it’s not to change the subject, but to simply continue the conversation.

I consider my answer for a moment. “I don’t know that I’m serving as a true ambassador. I’ve spent almost all of my time in the archives, which I love. I’m enjoying whatever it is I’m doing here in Velmara,” I answer honestly, and she laughs, a bright and almost chirping melody.

“That’s good, then. And the archives are wonderful.” We settle once again into companionable silence as we follow the winding labyrinth of the path.

As we walk, we occasionally bump into one another, one or both of us unable to walk in a straight line. Every time our hands or arms brush, a warm tingling sensation gathers low in my belly. I’m lusting after this cheery, bright, and open female. I’m not one to shy away from my sexuality, but here in Velmara, where roles for women are so dictated by society, I don’t dare pursue it. Even if she were interested—which is very unlikely, considering the way Velmara frowns upon relationships between females—it would put her in danger. And the thought of that is intolerable to me.

So we continue walking, chatting pleasantly about some of our favorite books and places in the archives. I tell her more about Thayaria, about the way the landscape is covered in foliage and so unlike Velmara. She listens with rapt attention, filing the information away, her mind a natural fit for the life of a scholar. Despite my earlier curiosity about her notes on Mazus’s book, I forget about them, caught up in the fast friendship forming between us. If I’m honest with myself, it’s refreshing to have companionship after so many weeks alone.

When the sky is inky black, we finally head back inside the palace. “Thank you for walking with me,” Genevieve says with a gentle smile that’s soothing. She radiates calming energy effortlessly, a balm to my weathered soul.

“Thank you for inviting me.” My words are quiet and slow, so unlike me.

“Good night, Nemesia.” With that, she turns down the corridor to my right and leaves me standing there staring after her. The soft and gentle way she said my name repeats in my mind as I walk to my own room, and for the first time since I’ve arrived in Velmara, I don’t feel alone.