Not because I want to.
I tear my gaze from his bright eyes and study the library. My breath escapes me. It’smassive.
No. Massive doesn’t come close. The ceiling stretches high above us, sunlight filtering in through large skylights. Towering bookshelves line the walls, rolling ladders stacked against the wooden frames.
Zev’s eyes are fixed on my face, and I realize my lips have parted.
“Like it?” he asks, his voice treacherously deep. I’ll sink beneath its rumbling surface if I’m not careful.
“It’s just—I mean, we have books in Tundrayn, but nothing likethis. Can I bring some back to our room?”
Our room.
Something dangerously warm flashes behind his eyes, and he nods slowly, as if caught in a trance.
He leads me through the aisles, my hand tucked in the crook of his arm. I select a book of poetry, a romance novel that he teases me about with waggling brows until my cheeks flush, and a book about the history of Arbinj. Zev casts me a questioning glance as I grab the last one, but I just shrug. “I like to learn.”
We’re ready to leave, when Zev’s footsteps falter. I follow his gaze down a dusty aisle. “What?” I ask.
He swallows. “Nothing. I, uh, just remembered a book. My mother used to read it to me.”
“Show me,” I say softly, pulling him down the aisle. Tension lines his shoulders as he pulls a thick tome from a shelf above my head.Faerahzar the Great and Other Children’s Talesis embossed on the cover in worn letters. Zev runs a reverent finger over the title, as if hoping to brush against some fragment of his mother that time couldn’t erase. His finger comes back coated with dust. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.
My chest squeezes tight.
“Faerahzar? We call him Faerataak the Mighty,” I say lightly, nudging him with my elbow. “He was Tundrayni.”
Zev’s lips quirk. “Don’t say that to anyone else. You’ll get sucked into a two-hour-long debate about why he wasdefinitelyArbinji. Or you’ll get stabbed.”
He goes to replace the book, but I snatch it from his hands. “I’d like to read it.”
Zev stills. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
My husband studies me, something like awe flickering in his gaze. The look sends a sharp ache through my chest—thathe’d feel so deeply about me wanting to read a book from his childhood.
I clutch the heavy tome to my chest. “Can we see the Healing Chambers next?”
“Yeah.” Zev clears his throat. “Yeah, we call it an infirmary here.”
The infirmary is nothing like the Healing Chambers in Tundrayn. Cabinets line the walls, overflowing with salves and ointments and oils. A sharp scent lingers in the air, foreign and unpleasant. Zev tells me it’s antiseptic, an alcohol mixture used to prevent infection.
In Tundrayn,healersprevent infection.
“Sire,” greets a white-haired man dressed in simple dark trousers and a moss green shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He bows deeply. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“Sauzon,” Zev responds. “This is Princess Mayah.”
The lean man bows again, torchlight glinting off his spectacles.
There are a few patients asleep in cots, including the man I healed last night, but Zev ushers me out before I can study them too closely.
“Is the infirmary just for nobles?” I ask as we walk through the halls.
“It’s for everyone,” Zev replies.
A whisper of surprise flickers in my chest. I had to fight Father for years before he allowed nonwielders access to the palace’s Healing Chambers. Zev must see the shock on my face becausehe adds, “I wish I could take credit. It was largely Sauzon’s efforts and research.”
