Haidrinism was a religion born of the north, in the lands between Avaria and Kalthos, where people gathered in small towns with great swaths of land between them. Many of its tenets had revolved around keeping people safe from the wilds, focusing on the importance of home and community. But that had changed when the religion ventured south.
In Kalthos, where the climate and geography supported such a vast variety of beasts, people had long ago learned to fear them. What began as doctrine meant to protect only grew more restrictive. It became illegal to drink after sundown and to travel the roads in the dark. The crimes that turned townspeople against one another faced higher penalties, and the beasts that they had once feared, they began to hate.
By the time the Kalish mages retired, no one wanted to take their place.
Yet Eirlana was not only here, she was trying, and as much as it bothered him to admit it, she was good at it. She had handled herself well with the Zeras, and she was more than skilled in the arena. The rate at which she consumed books left the leopard spirits scrambling to find new tomes, and he didn’t think it would be long before she would be capable of going on beast missions alone.
But as he gathered their glasses and the empty mylak bottle, snapping his fingers to teleport to his study, some part of him had to admit it was more than that which drew him to her. It was the way her lips curved into that wry smile, the sharpness of her dark wit, and—
“It has been some time since I’ve seen you smile like that.”
Allaster blinked at the figure seated on his couch by the fire, a glass of whiskey in her hand. Nyelle was resplendent as always, this time dressed in a gown of the deepest crimson, the golden column of double buttons along the bodice the only nod to the current Kalish style. The rest was embroidered with the flourish of her Riviairen roots, the dress itself layered like the petals of a rose, a color reflected in her light brown cheeks.
“You must be mistaken,” he said as he joined her on the opposite couch. “Smiling is reserved for those with something to be happy about.”
Nyelle chuckled, but Allaster didn’t share her amusement. The two of them hadn’t spoken in days, not since Nyelle had confirmed her daughter’s engagement to the Kalish Prince, but their visits were usually scheduled. That way, they could ensure no one else was in the portal room when she arrived. But for the rare occasion she needed tospeak with him outside those times, Iylis always sensed her and intercepted her arrival—which meant this likely wasn’t good news.
Allaster’s gaze dropped to the drink in her hand. “Do I need one of those, or is this a social visit?”
In response, she rose to pour him a glass, and Allaster accepted it with a heavy sigh. He pulled at the top buttons of his uniform, the heat of the room making him long for the Eyrie’s cool grass and gentle breeze.
“What is it?” he asked as she retook her seat.
“I suspect Vera is aware of our renewed friendship.” She crossed one leg atop the other with a nonchalance that belied the peril of her statement.
For the past several months, he and Nyelle had been meeting in secret to discuss Kalish affairs, at great risk to them both. As Librarian, it was beyond Allaster’s purview to interfere with the internal politics of a nation, his only redemption being that it was, at least partly, in relation to magic, which granted him a gray area to work within. But for Nyelle, whose family already walked a delicate line with their sympathies toward beasts, a friendship with the Librarian of Amorlin was as good as spitting in the Paratal’s face.
Not only did the Librarian work in direct contradiction to the church’s goals, but the Kalish saw his extended life as yet another affront against Haidra. Many Kalish, in particular the Malik who served the goddess, went on to live particularly long lives, a gift they believed the Librarian profaned at best and somehow stole at worst.
The burn of the magic in his veins flared to life at the swell of his anger. Not at the Kalish, but at the knowledge that, however Vera had discovered them, it had come from inside the Library. Had he been right to distrust Eirlana, or was she correct in her belief that another spy walked his halls? Either way, they had handed Vera a weapon against him and Nyelle both.
“Are you in danger?” he asked tightly.
Nyelle set aside her glass and stood, peering into the hearth’s flames. “I do not think so,” she said, and his magic waned at his relief.It had been doing that more often lately, springing to life alongside his stronger emotions, though the incident with the Zeras was the first time he had lost control of it to that extent. Even now, it sat beneath his skin like roiling water, just waiting to boil over.
“She has no proof beyond the word of whomever told her of it, and she can’t reveal that without alerting the King to her machinations,” Nyelle continued. “But she has no qualms about hinting at her knowledge to me and has suddenly become much more vocal at court in pushing forth her measures. She moves to double the funding to the Malikinar and wants to take blasphemy from sin to crime.”
“She’s targeting you,” Allaster said, and Nyelle nodded. With the recent depletion of vylor from the mines and heavy investments from the crown into ships for reaching Jacara, the royal treasury had swiftly found itself accumulating debt. It was one of the reasons King Carthur had agreed to the Prince’s union: The Yadora coffers were deep.
Now, Vera intended to redirect that money into the pockets of people loyal to her with one hand and call attention to Nyelle’s blasphemy with the other. With their families about to be united, any stain upon Nyelle would reflect poorly upon Carthur, furthering Vera’s goal of painting her cousin in an unpleasant light.
Downing his whiskey, Allaster rose to join Nyelle by the fire. “Perhaps it’s best we don’t see each other for a while. Until I can ascertain where this information came from.”
She looked up at him, and in the firelight, she seemed suddenly much younger than her fifty-four years, her brown eyes incandescent with passion. “I will not be cowed by her, Allaster. My parents allowed the Helsens and the Ralks to silence them, allowed decades of slaughter before their very eyes. This union between our families is the first real chance we’ve had at influencing Carthur, and I will be dammed if I let Vera Helsen ruin it. I am no coward.”
“Are you suggesting I am?” he countered, the flush of his magic rising again. He forced a breath through it, the uncomfortable heat bordering on burning. “There is more at stake here than you realize,Nyelle. Vera already has a target on my back. I can’t afford to give her more ammunition to call a Conclave.”
Nyelle snorted derisively, the action so at odds with her usually pristine manners. “As if you ever cared about something as foolish as decorum.”
“Decorum, no, but I do take my job very seriously. I’m toeing a dangerous line, and I have to put the Library first.”
“I know,” she said, lifting a hand to his chin. There was nothing sensual in her touch, but it felt too knowing all the same, and it mollified his ire. “It’s why this could never work.”
“Only that?” he forced through gritted teeth, and she laughed, letting her hand drop.
“It’s late,” she said. “I should go.”
She returned to the couch, where she had draped a cloak over the back. Fastening it around her throat, she lifted the hood to obscure her face and offered him her hand. He hesitated a moment before he took it, the familiar press of claws at his fingertips fading. Then he teleported them to the portal room.
