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Those nervous flutters grew just a bit stronger.

Why was I so nervous? It wasn’t like I was walking out of this room in anything near immodest. I hadn’t even ditched the pendant. Not yet, anyway.

Frick, I couldn’t think about it or I wouldn’t make it out of this room to read in the garden while Callum was meeting with whichever important person needed him this morning. Even still, it took all my compartmentalization skills to grab the children’s primer from where it had been accumulating dust and slip out of the bedroom.

The flowers had started to bloom, life awakening seemingly all at once, and the fountain burbled contentedly as I laid out the blanket I’d grabbed to keep from staining the dress while I sat in my favorite spot nestled against the fountain’s basin. The calls of robins and songbirds and blackbirds kept me company as I slowly started in on the primer again. This time, it felt like I was actually making progress. Amaria came and sat with me for a while, a small basket of fruits and bread situated between us, before she disappeared with a murmured admission she was going to meet Molly in the city and fly with her for a bit.

A few hours later, when Callum found me sitting there against the fountain, I set a bookmark in the children’s primer and got to my feet. His hands were empty, though he had a satchel on one shoulder. He wore a dark green tunic with pink embroidery along the neckline, the motifs flowers and birds rather than the vine and scrollwork of the court regalia he typically wore when meeting with someone in the city. His gaze took me in, catching on the dress and the styling in my hair. Wisteria slowly bled from him, tempting me closer.

“No jar today?” I asked with a light tone even as I forced myself to not close the distance between us.

He shook his head, a corner of his mouth lifting for a heartbeat.

“I would like to spend the afternoon at the Atheneum,” he said, “rather than training, if you’re all right with it.”

He hadn’t expressed interest in going to large public library for my studies. The carefully crafted plans I’d made to finally be brave enough to initiate withered.

“The Atheneum?”

He nodded. “The prophecy has been on my mind, especially since my morning prayers. I’d like to spend some time pondering it if you’re willing.”

“Sure,” I agreed easily even as my body screamed the opposite.

The reality was that—in the moments when I wasn’t going out of my mind with want—the prophecy had been bothering me, too, though I imagined for different reasons. What about my dream had made the disciple think we were supposed to be told of it?

I tucked my hand into his arm when he offered it, standing closer than I’d dared before, even when he walked past the horses that would have gotten us to the library within a few minutes with a quiet explanation that he’d enjoy walking the twenty minutes or so with me instead. My blush had been as bright as a freaking maiden’s, I was pretty sure.

Now Callum led me up the wide, sweeping staircase that led to the Atheneum. It was one of four buildings that hemmed in the Central Square and stood the tallest of them, towering nearly as high as the Basilica—not counting the spires, at least. The building itself seemed to be one large rotunda, its dome decorated with the black metal the circlets were crafted from and reflected nearly silver in the afternoon sunlight. Like the Basilica, support pillars extended from far above the entrance at an angle, reminding me almost of flying buttresses, and on them were carvings similar to the ones at the Basilica that called to me even as I was unable to interpret them.

People sat on the stairs, books and notebooks laid out around them. A few congregated in smaller groups, talking quietly amongst themselves, occasionally pulling a book to show the others with them. All of them paused as we passed, dipping their heads in supplication. Those who stood leaning against the pillars dropped into true bows or curtsies. Callum offered a single smile that encompassed them all as we made our way to the main doors. They were much smaller than those of the Basilica, and they made no noise as Callum eased one open and led me inside.

The space felt almost oppressively dark compared to the bright sunlight of outside as my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden difference. Callum seemed to have no such struggle, leading me deeper into the building. All around us, bookshelves soared nearly three stories high, each floor looking out over this main entrance space, the balconies hemmed in with wrought iron railings that were fashioned in the same vine and scrollwork pattern as the circlets. Ever five or so feet was another large table with at least six chairs surrounding it, most occupied with people studying and researching, their heads bent low. Fire jars burned on most of the tables, some larger than others, as well as large, clear sconces on the walls between every bookshelf. The floor’s black tiles echoed under our steps, and it drew the attention of the person seated at a desk situated just inside the main doors, large enough to block any easy access to the rest of the library.

The man’s eyes were bloodred and swirled like liquid. His ears were pointed, and his skin was nearly as pale as mine. He dipped his chin as he saw Callum.

“Your Highness,” he murmured, rising without hesitation. He wore black pants and tunic with no embroidery at all, though a gold brooch in the shape of an owl sat pinned on his chest. He silently led us past the desk and the tables of the first floor to a spiral staircase hidden from view of the main entrance by one of the walls of books. He ignored the second floor, continuing to climb until we’d reached the third story. The bookshelves continued to fill every nook and cranny, the sconces strategically placed between them to offer enough light that a fire jar wouldn’t really be necessary. Between a few of the larger shelves, tall, narrow windows let in a bit of the sunlight. Here, there were only a few people studying at the various worktables. A few wore the cream tunics of the scribes of the Basilica. One looked up from she perched in one of the window seats as we passed. Her smile was soft as she dipped her chin.

The man led us to a pocket door tucked between two shelves in the farthest corner of the library. He held the door open, revealing a small study room with a much smaller worktable centered in it made of a dark wood. On it were two stacks of books, their covers worn and pages yellowed with age. In its center were two fire jars, their lids firmly closed to protect the books. The walls were stone with a dark panelling a shade or two darker than the table covering the bottom for feet. Covering the black tile was a plush rug with a pattern made from green, cream, and bits of orange. Across from the pocket door was a tall, thin arched window that looked out over the lake.

“If you need anything, let us know,” the man said.

Callum gave a quick dip of his chin. “Thank you.”

The door slid closed behind us, and all the desire and arousal I’d managed to shove away during the walk here roared up in a new wave, strong enough I wanted to drown in it. I sat in one of the chairs. Beside the stacks of books were a few notebooks that looked new as well as fountain pens. There was also a small tray of breads and tarts and fruit along with napkins discreetly placed to remind us to make sure our hands were clean before touching the old books.

I picked a piece of fruit from the tray and nibbled on it while opening one of the notebooks. As much as my mind was still exhausted from the reading practice of this morning, I was willing to do anything to distract myself from the growing urge to lay myself out on the table for Callum to focus on instead of the tomes.

This was out of control.

I cleared my throat. “Where should we start?”

Callum slid in to the chair opposite me, the satchel laid out beside the tray of snacks. He unfolded the prophecy and set it in-between us, facing me.

“What part draws your interest?” His voice was warm honey. I clenched my thighs.

There was no way I was going to survive an entire afternoon shut up in here with him. There just wasn’t.

I frowned. “I can’t read it. And I’m terrified to touch it, honestly. What if I wrote it down as you read it to me so I could have my own version to reference?”