“The library has a mind of its own, dear,” said Ms. Redclaw. “You’ll get to know it well during your time here, Ms.?”
Ceri glanced around and picked two names off of books on the nearby shelves at random: “Ms. Ethel Higglebottom.”
Ethel Higglebottom? Oh Gods, what was she doing?
“Higglebottom? Is that a gnomish name?” asked Ms. Redclaw.
“Er, my father was adopted into a family of gnomes,” said Ceri.
She sighed. Yes, she’d wanted to start over, but she hadn’t intended to pretend to be someone else entirely. She was just intrigued by the idea of not being recognized, of being treated just like an ordinary student for a bit, but things were already getting out of hand.
Just then, something fell from a shelf to the floor, narrowly missing the wet patch left by the tea coffee. It was a book, although Ceri couldn’t see where it could have come from.
“The Royal Family of Loegria and Wilderise, Past and Present,” said Leorias, reading the title.
He glanced up at Ceri. “Is this one for you? Were you planning to study history?”
Ceri snatched the book away from him before he could look inside—who knew which portrait of her they used? Any of them were problematic at the moment, anyway. “Yes,” she said. “History. That’s right.”
It took her a moment to understand why he’d asked her if the book was for her. “You said the library has a mind of its own. Did it give that book to me?”
“Yes,” said Ms. Redclaw, smiling and patting a nearby shelf. “No one knows why, exactly, but I like to think of it as an old friend that knows what you need. Sometimes it knows better than even you do. Unless, of course, you’ve done something toupset it.” She glared her clouded eyes in the rough direction of Leorias.
“I swear I’ve done nothing to it, Ms. Redclaw,” said Leorias.
Ceri believed he was telling the truth. Or at least he believed his own lie.
She was, unfortunately, something of an expert when it came to lying.
She retrieved the book on royalty from under her arm and thumbed through the pages. Is this how she really wanted to start things out? With more lies?
Near the back, she found the portrait of the current royal family. It was an old portrait, taken with a picture-taker five years earlier on the last of her mother’s visits to Loegria, back before she’d given up on maintaining the charade of the marriage with Ceri’s father for once and for all.
King Derkomai sat in the center, tall and grand in his crown and royal regalia, the piercing blue of his eyes coming through even in black and white. Queen Yuling sat to his left, her face joyless, her hand gripping Ceri’s arm tightly. Prince Idris sat to the right of their father, but he was exactly a mirror image of their mother, both in features and in his tense posture. Only the fifteen-year-old Ceri, seated in front of her mother, looked relaxed in the picture. Her face was a bit rounder then, but she looked much as she did today: she had her mother’s almond eyes and gently sloping nose but her father’s coloring—blue eyes, pale skin, and hair that had been silver since birth.
Ceri remembered the day of the portrait well. She had been convinced that her mother was coming back to stay for good, or that this time, she’d take Ceri with her when she left.
Neither of those things was true. But to be fair to Queen Yuling, it wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part, as Ceri had come to understand only recently.
“This is me,” said Ceri, handing the book to Leorias. “The message was for you.”
She watched Leorias as he read the names and looked at the portrait, putting it together. “Princess Ceridwen, second in line to the throne,” he said. He looked down at her through his spectacles. “This is you.”
“Yes,” said Ceri.
“Princess Ceridwen?” asked Ms. Redclaw. “Forgive me, your royal highness.” She bowed her head forward as best as she could in deference. “I didn’t recognize you. Why didn’t you say?”
“Probably because of that reaction,” muttered Leorias. Ceri caught his eye, and he startled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I said—”
“No, you’re exactly right,” said Ceri. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to say it, but for a moment, she felt seen. “I’m sorry for the deception. I’m accustomed to being recognized. It was nice, for a moment, to be whoever I wanted to be.”
“And you chose Esther Higglebottom, student of history,” said Leorias, amused. Ceri noticed then that even after she’d told him who she was, he hadn’t bowed.
“Ethel,” Ceri corrected. “Where are you from, Leorias? Is it ‘Lord’ Leorias?” Ceri had known few elves that couldn’t claim some sort of title. Most were styled “Lord” or “Lady,” although some had higher titles, either in the Loegrian court or within their own elvish courts.
“Not ‘Lord’ Leorias, no. ‘Leo’ is fine. I’m from Gallia.”
Well, that explained the lack of courtesy. Gallia, the country across the southern sea, famously removed their monarchs and their courts more than a century earlier.
