He’d been told—no, warned—that Orval was to be “honored” by the King, told that his staff should be ready to accept the scholar’s books as an addition to the Library, but he’d never expected this. A few of the choicest pieces, certainly…buteverything?
The worst of it? The thought that burned in the back of his throat? He’d seen Orval at the Audiences and for one brief instant, he’d dared to think. Dared to warn him, to try to aid him…
Instead, he’d fled back to his library. To the shelter of the stacks and shelves. They’d never been friends, though they weren’t truly enemies, either. Perhaps adversaries was the better term, but—
Guilt added to the pain in his bowels, which were turning liquid. He clenched his ass tight and tried to breathe.
The Bondmaiden shifted slightly, smelling of ginger and something sour. The silence had gone too long; she was looking at him oddly. He forced words out past the clog in his throat. “We are overwhelmed to be trusted with this amount of material. It will take time to organize and catalog—”
Avice gave him a direct stare from under dark lashes. “No need. The Queen wishes these materials preserved, so we will seal the crates with her personal seal and place them in storage.
Jacoben licked his lips. “We will need to find suitable storage, somewhere dry and free of—”
“Somewhere there is room,” Avice said firmly. “Safely under lock and key.”
“Of course,” Jacoben said faintly. “But we could prepare a list—”
“Of the crates? Certainly.” Avice said. “Of the books? Why bother? If anyone asks for access, tell them they will need the Queen’s permission. Written permission,” she added firmly.
“I see,” Jacoben said cautiously.
“Excellent. You should be aware that there are plans to secure additional materials from other libraries in the future.”
Other collections?
They watched as more boxes were brought in. Then sacks.Sacks.
Avice spoke again. “The Queen understands that you receive requests at times, for research and information.”
“Y-y-yes.” Jacoben swallowed hard. “The work of this Library and Archive is to provide—”
“No more, Master Librarian. In the future, all requests must be approved by the Queen,” Avice said.
“Oh, but,” Jacoben glanced at the stacks of pending requests on the shelf designated for them. “But that will—”
“No ‘buts,’” Avice said, a threat in her voice.
“No, of course not,” Jacoben said faintly. “As the Queen commands, of course.” He drew a breath, thinking of his wife, his children, his staff. He knew they were currently pretending to work, bodies hunched over desks but pens barely moving.
“Good. Ah, that’s the last of it.” Avice nodded as the guards started to bring in lids for the crates. One of them dropped a lid on top of an over-full box and mashed down the contents. Jacoben tried not to wince.
The Librarian never knew where the idea came from; he spoke almost before finishing the thought. “There’s one difficulty,” he blurted out. “The King has commanded that we search all records for any reference to atira blades.”
“Hold,” Avice said. The guards obeyed.
Jacoben trembled at his own daring. “Surely he would wish us to search these new collections as well?”
There was a very long pause. Avice didn’t even look at him.
“The King is very focused on this goal,” Jacoben ventured.
“He is,” Avice confirmed. “Is there a chance there is a mention in all this?”
“Yes,” Jacoben said firmly. Of course there was a chance. A small chance, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless. Who knew what Orval had locked away? “With the Queen’s permission, we could review this collection and seek the information the King has requested.”
Avice looked at him coolly and he knew damn well he was not fooling her. But King Xyrath had made it very clear to everyone that he desired an atira blade above all things.
Jacoben smiled weakly, feeling his knees begin to give way. He was useless and spineless, but—
