I pulled up short momentarily, stunned by the familiar tone in his voice that reminded me so much of how Mrs. E spoke, and my chest tightened like a vise around my heart.
Forcing a smile, I said, “Do you have anything on how to use magic?” I wanted—needed—books that could teach me how to control my powers, instead of it obeying its own whims.
He blinked at me as if he’d misheard. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”
Feeling a slight blush rise, I tried again. “When I was learning how to throw daggers, I read books on how they’re made, the types, sizes, weights, throwing techniques,” I explained. “So, I’m looking for something similar, but for magic. You know, its origins, types…how to conjure. Things of that nature.”
His features scrunched in concentration as he tapped a short, rounded finger on his equally rounded chin like I’d asked him to solve a riddle.
Finger pausing, he said, “You’re looking for something that teaches you how to conjure fire and the like, yes?”
“Exactly!” I cringed as my voice echoed through the silent sanctuary.
Ignoring the roughly two dozen eyes now on us, he shook his head to the left, tapped his chin once, then repeated the motion on the other side before lowering his hand and refocusing on me. “I can oblige your request on types and usages among the different courts and how they’ve manifested within each throughout history,but I’m sorry to say I cannot offer you any such writings on conjuring.”
“Can’t or won’t,” I retorted, the words dripping with accusation before I could catch myself.
His ruddy brows shot so high that had he been wearing those oversized spectacles, they would’ve risen above. “Cannot,” he said firmly. “We do not withhold knowledge of any type, from anyone. Too many wars have been fought over lost or rewritten histories.”
His last words hit me hard, and I wondered if it was a jab at the human side of me.
“You’re saying no such tome exists?”
“That is correct.”
“How is it possible that something so common among the fae is completely absent in text?” Suddenly, I was abandoned by the vast knowledge surrounding me.
“It’sbecauseof its commonness,” he said with gentle kindness. “We fae do not need to read such things. It would be akin to a human asking for a book on how to blink. Magic is our birth right, a gift from the Stars and the Mother. So, for us, there is no need for such a book.”
“Oh,” I breathed. Of course. How hadn’t I thought about that? I was the only soul on Lumnara that would have experienced this. My shoulders sagged with the weight of my disappointment and isolation. Not to mention embarrassment; that must have been the single most ridiculous question he’d ever been asked.
Sensing my shift, he motioned to a sitting area. “Here, let’s sit, and you can tell me what you seek. I will make sure we find as much information as we can. Okay?” He offered me a small smile, and I returned it, sliding into one of the large, cream-colored chairs to his side.
Leaning on the edge of his seat, he looked at me expectantly.
Taking a moment, I readjusted my expectations and shifted my priorities.
“I’d like to understand the history of the spark. I know it predatesthe written word, but I’m sure there’s something you can offer me.” He nodded and patiently waited for me to go on. “I also want to understand the Great War of five hundred years ago.” He looked at me with a strange expression, but I dismissed it and continued. “It’s important that I understand the different types of magic that exist and their histories. Including the Celestial Court. Oh, and anything on the human histories of the royal Alton family,” I added, wanting to understand what the fae knew in regard to Thaddeus’ family history.
He raised a brow at that but didn’t say anything as he patiently waited to see if I was done before saying, “I can certainly help you with all of that. With your permission, I can give you a few books now and have the others sent to your residence by nightfall. Would that be okay?”
“Yes, thank you very much,” I said, my chest fluttering with a slurry of anticipation and hope.
“You’re most certainly welcome,” he said, looking up at me with excitement and a wide, if not reserved, smile.
Realizing I hadn’t introduced myself, I said, “I’m so sorry. I’m Nyleeria.” I slid a hand in his direction, and his smile turned shy as he dismissed my proffered hand and bowed his head.
“I know who you are, Lady Nyleeria. We all do,” he said, tilting his chin back up and gesturing his meaty hand in the air. “We’ve been waiting to see if you’d come back to our lands after the summer solstice.”
“Oh,” I said, shocked by the admission, if not confused by the familiarity he’d spoken to me with—not that I minded. “Why not address me by title when I entered?” I asked, and not because I’d been disrespected, but out of curiosity so I might understand the proper decorum myself.
“Because,” he started, tone reverent, “books do not discriminate on whom may consume their words based on titles or ranks—and as their keeper, it is my duty to honor them by matching their knowledge with those that seek it.”
The way he spoke was like he belonged to the library, and I wondered if that kind of veneration was unique to him or the fae. Either way, respect for him warmed my chest as I asked, “What’s your name?”
Standing up, he lowered in a proper bow, right hand gliding out to the side in a flourish before he stood at eye level with me. “My name is Fenyte,” he said, and that same pride from before radiated off of him.
Smiling in earnest, I said, “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Fenyte.”
