Startled, I spin at the teasing, ominous voice.
Ace.
The mischievous grin that has already begun to endear him to me helps calm the pounding in my chest. Is it from the scare he gave me, or from that strange call on the other side of the darkness?
Ace gives me no time to ponder.
I spin, pulse leaping, only to find him leaning against a column, arms folded, grin irrepressible.
“Gods, you frightened me,” I snap, pressing a hand to my chest.
He only arches a brow, utterly unrepentant. “If a whisper in the dark rattles you so, what will you do when real shadows come calling?”
I glare, but he chuckles, pushing off the stone with easy grace. “Still, I can’t fault you for curiosity. You’ve got a nose for secrets—I like that. Reminds me of myself, only prettier.”
Falling into stride beside him as he leads me back toward the heart of the library, I nudge him. “You’re plenty pretty, Ace.”
He grins at that, pulling books seemingly at random from various shelves. “Poetry for the heart,” he says, handing me a pocket-sized leather-bound book. “History for the mind.” Another follows. “Tales of ancient lore for the soul.”
I stare, puzzled. Does he truly know each work, as if it were an old friend? Marveling as my arms grow heavy with the trove he bestows on me, I still find my gaze drifting back toward that barred chamber lying in wait. A quiet pull I can’t quite ignore.
We settle at a large table in the center of the immense space, a diverse spread of works around us. Ace dives in, sharing his favorite lines while I flip through pages, parchment beneath my fingertips in tune with the melody he strums quietly on his lute. The quiet ease between us feels like something rare. Proximity becoming familiarity, and familiarity becoming… friendship? It’s as foreign to me as the calm I find myself settling into. I find I am thankful for the stewardship and company alike. As much as I could get lost exploring the stacks of books here, having a sense of direction and someone leading the charge unburdens me.
“Is it true you lived in a cave?”
I choke on the laugh that follows his boldness, pulling myself together long enough to answer. “For a time, yes.” The look on his face is a mix of confusion and awe. “And I would choose it over life back in the village every time.”
He slides into the seat next to me, setting the lute aside as he lowers from his perch atop the table. The normally boisterous bard yields to my telling.
I do not know if I share so freely because of the comfort I feel with him or perhaps because I feel I have little left to protect. Yet the words flow from me none the less.
“It never felt like home. I never fit in there. And near the end…” My voice trails. I remember the fear of walking alone, the nagging sensation of being followed. The nights rattled by the sound of shattering glass, a stone thrown so near my bed it would have struck me if sorrow and fear hadn’t kept me awake. “I was better off fending for myself in the woods.”
His hand finds my arm, a touch light but sure, sympathy ringing true even from someone so primed for theatrics.
“Trouble is, you won’t be free of that here either,” he says. “People at court—half of them won’t like seeing you so close to Vale. Closely seated to the king is as good as carving your name into a prophecy, and they all have their own visions of what his destiny should look like.”
I don’t pull from his touch, only from the weight of what he’s said. I am a stranger in these walls, but there is more to it.
“Vale told me a little of prophecy,” I say quietly. “That it was once common among your kind.”
“Common?” His laugh is short and bright. “Aye, more common than sense some days. Prophecy was given as freely as a name. Everyone had one tucked under their pillow or scribbled in a margin. Some were grand and terrible, speaking of kings rising and kingdoms falling. Others were so fanciful you’d think the gods were jesting—a child with eyes of flame who’d sing the stars from the sky, that sort of thing.”
I tuck a fallen strand of hair behind my ear. I will not shrink from this.
“There’s that fire I heard about,” pride beams through his grin. “You’ve already done more than most who strut through these halls. Vale and I… we’ve had our scraps. He’s hauled me out of the fire, and I’ve kept him from toppling off a cliff or two. But saving him the way you did? That takes something different. Makes me think I’d best stay on your good side.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate having a friend within these halls.”
“If I were a betting man”—he cocks his head, a single brow raised—“and I am… I’d put my money on you over prophecy or discontented courtiers any day.”
The quiet between us stretches until the scrape of the great doors announces someone else. Soria enters, shawl in hand, her brows lifting with mock reproach. “You’ve spent the whole day buried in parchmentand song. Lord Vale will be most put out if I return you to him too late for supper.”
I blink at the light slanting differently through the windows—gods, how many hours have passed?
Ace leans back in his chair, smirk quick to return. “Taking her away so soon? Well, only if our king demands it so.” His eyes gleam as he turns to Soria. “And Soria—you still owe me a dance from last night.”
She shakes her head, though the faintest smile betrays her. “You’ll have to earn it, bard.”
