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“I wanted to go to the library.” My voice breaks on the lie, and I hate how perceptive he is as he looks pointedly at the bread in my hand again.

“I see. You must have taken a few wrong turns because you are a long way from the library.”

I can feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. “I could have sworn—”

“It’s no problem. Follow me, Alessia. I will take you there and let the king know where to find you if needed.” He takes off down the corridor, back the way I came, and waits for me to follow.

My chest tightens as I give the stone stairs one last look of longing and turn toward Eagan. My smile is weak and forced. “Thank you,” I mutter. He nods, and we walk in silence for a long time, very slowly, because I have to convince my body to take each step that leads me farther from the castle cells. Farther from Arlo.

When the library doors are finally in sight, I let out a long sigh. “I have it from here,” I say, stopping just short of going inside. Eagan faces me quietly and stares back down at the bread in my hand.

“I didn’t—”

“I will be right out here if you need me. I wouldn’t want you to get lost again.” His smile is stiff, and I push through the library doors with one hand, shoving the slice of bread into my cloak pocket.

The silence in Kylian’s empty bedroom was cold in his absence, loaded with everything that has changed between us. But here in the library, the silence feels warm and inviting.

At first, I’m walking along the shelves aimlessly, waiting long enough to convince Eagan I really wanted to be here. Then I come to a stop in front of a shelf filled with unusually thin books. The loopy golden writing on the spines catches my attention, and I pull a stack of them from the shelf.

I saw a few books like these before. Not about herbs or medicine or history, but fun stories about love, adventure and magic. Fairy tales. I smile to myself as I fill my arms with them. If I’m stuck here for a little while, I might as well glance through a few of these. I just need Eagan to believe the library was my intent in wandering tonight. Otherwise, he may never leave me alone again, and then I would never find Arlo.

With the stack of books, I fold myself into a deep window seat at the far end of the room, dragging a blanket over my legs that was neatly folded next to the cushions. When I crack open the first book, the small lamp next to me gives the pages a golden, magical glow, and the moment feels almost surreal.

I have no idea how much time passes as I turn page after page. Just one more chapter. One more story. Soon, the thoughts of Arlo slip away, somewhere between a missing glass slipper and a princess trapped in a tower.

I have been nose-deep in these books for far longer than I planned, and I’m so far away in a different world that I do not hear him come in until his voice arrives at my shoulder, low and amused. “When Eagan mindlinked me and said you were in the library, this is not what I pictured.”

I startle, the book jumping in my hands, and I look up to find Kylian standing over me. For a moment, I’m only looking at him. Then my gaze drifts back over the endless shelves, the ladders on their brass rails, the tall windows, and the ocean of books that even the light doesn’t touch.

It causes an ache in my chest that I wasn’t expecting.

It reminds me of Sable. How she used to press against my side on ‌chilly nights and beg me for a story, any story, and how I would have given anything then for a room like this one. A place we could have disappeared together, where the real world could not reach us. Kylian follows my eyes.

“You seem sad,” he says.

“No,” I say, though it is not quite true. “My sister would have loved it here.”

“What are you reading?” he asks, and before I can answer, he reaches down and takes the book from my hands, carefully, I notice, to keep one finger tucked between the pages so as not to lose my place. It is such a small thing, but it undoes me a little that he thinks to do it at all. He turns the cover to the light and reads the title, and one dark brow lifts.

“Aladdin.” His mouth curves. “Hmm. I would not have guessed you’d be reading a children’s fairy tale. Especially not one about a thief and a princess.”

“Sable loved fairy tales. I used to make them up for her when we were little,” I reply, and I am surprised how easy it is to tell him about her. “Entire stories out of nothing. I wish we had been allowed books like these back then.” I chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, a curious look on his face. I shake my head, unsure why the thought even came to me, or how I can laugh at the silliness of it.

“Thinking of the first night after the purge when we finally made it into the town. We slept in a warehouse once the king’s men finished slaughtering nearly everyone.”

“That is supposed to be funny?”

“No, but Sable couldn’t read very well. She found an old, waterlogged book, something I had never seen before. It was full of names, numbers, and maps. She was so scared that she wanted me to read it to her. I had no idea what it was, so I pretended to read it. Made up a story so she would sleep. She made me keep that ruined book until Madam Dahlia took us in. After about a year of reading pretend stories to her, Madam Dahlia found it. There’s no use in a phone book when we have no phones. That’s what she said before she tossed it into the fireplace.”

“Sable can’t read?” he asks.

“She couldn’t back then, but I taught her to read with old newspaper clippings and anything else with words on it. We were never allowed to touch the books at Dahlia’s, and on the rare occasion I did, it never came without consequences.”

I do not have to explain. He goes very still, as if he is holding something back, and for once I am grateful he does not fill the silence with anger on my behalf. He watches me for a long moment, the book still resting open across his palm.

“Well,” he says at last. “Here you may read whatever you like.” He hands the book back. I take it and trace my fingers over the embossed title, the gold letters raised beneath my fingertips, and I do not look up when he speaks again. “Do you not wish to finish it,” he asks, “and find out whether the princess chooses the thief?”