“It’s a museum library,” she said carefully, “and it’s closed. What have you been doing?”
“Reading,” I said. “What else would one do in-”
“A
She stepped past me, the crossbow still trained on my breastbone a trifle melodramatically. At the desk she picked up the text, flashed her eyes over it, and dropped it carelessly back where I’d left it.
She was about about my age, maybe a year or two more, tall, and blond like everyone else here, but she was not dressed as a courtier. She wore a long dark smock with a white shirt beneath, open enticingly at her throat. Her arms were long and slender, her wrists and fingers similarly slim and pale as new ivory. Her hair was gathered tight to the back of her head with a silver clasp. Her mouth was small, her lips full in a permanent half-pout, her forehead and cheekbones high, her jaw sculpted. She looked like an alabaster statue which had come to life. To put it another way, she was hot.
“You must go now,” she said. “And if you wish to see the library, you need express permission from the King’s Counsel.”
“How might I get that?”
“I really don’t know,” she said, “but I’m sure-”
“I mean, it seems such a shame to lock away all these wonderful books,” I said. “People should be able to read them without ‘express permission,’ surely?”
“This is a museum. The stock here is too precious to-”
“I’d be very careful,” I tried.
“Parts of the building have not been structurally sound since last year’s earthquake,” she said, not really bothering to conceal the fact that she found these explanations tiresome.
“Earthquake?”
“You’re not from round here, are you?” she said, as if thinking the implications of this through for the first time.
“No,” I began, “I’m a guest of Sorrail, as I said, and. .”
“Of course,” she said, and a light went on somewhere in her memory. “Well, yes, there was an earthquake. A large section of the outer wall has not yet been repaired, though it fortunately faces away from the goblin presence in the forest, so-”
“Perhaps you could show me around? You know,
“What?” she asked, caught off guard. For the first time it seemed like she wasn’t following a script.
“I mean, perhaps you could show me the library.”
“I’m very busy. I really don’t have time to. .”
“I’d love to just come and read a little. I wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. . ” I began.
“Perhaps I could have one of my assistants take some books to your lodgings.”
“Perhaps you could bring them yourself,” I said with a smile. There was a pause and her gaze flicked away, as if uncertain of what to say next. I filled the silence for her. “Couldn’t you just show me around the library?”
“I really am very busy,” she answered, less adamantly than before. “And if you do get permission to visit the library, you will also get a tour escort from the library staff.”
“Would that be you?” I smiled winsomely.
“It might be,” she said and, for a fraction of a moment, her eyes thawed slightly.
“Then I’ll make an appointment immediately,” I said, relaxing. “Might I request your company by name?”
The crossbow moved fractionally, paused, and then dropped completely.
“Aliana,” said the woman. “You’d better go.”
“Yes,” I said. “Er. .”
“I’ll let you out the front way,” she said, and this time the smile, which had begun in her eyes, made its way to her lips. I was, momentarily, transfixed by the result. She saw me notice, recognized my interest, and turned away as her smile widened.
“This way,” she said, turning back to me, but not meeting my eyes.
She moved quickly, leading me into a dark, cold vestibule where the great oak doors that I had tried to force stood. She stooped and pulled at the floor bolt, but it was stuck.
“Allow me,” I said, bending with her till my cheek was inches from hers. She smiled, showing that little girlish flash of coyness again. As she straightened, I was struck with how different a response I would have gotten from Renthrette. The bolt moved easily in my hand and the great door shuddered as it came free. She held it open.
“Well, good-bye then,” I said, lingering in the doorway.
“Good-bye, Mr. Hawthorne,” she answered.
“Right,” I said, stupidly, before backing awkwardly away, my eyes still on her. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said, smiling broadly now.
And with that, she closed the door and was gone. I turned, scuttled down the steps, and skipped across the forum.
“Did you find your admirer?” asked Renthrette, without looking up from the feathers she was trimming for arrow flights.
“Not exactly,” I replied, thinking wistfully of Aliana. “Why? Jealous?”
She snorted slightly and her thin lips creased into a dry smile. She lifted a goose quill to the light and examined it carefully.
“I mean,” I continued, “you should let me know, if that’s how you feel.”
There was a long silence.
“What?” she said slowly, her eyes and attention still wholly on the feather, which she had now laid on the table, her knife poised above it. She adjusted the angle of the blade fractionally and cut delicately, meticulously, like a surgeon.
“I said,” I explained, “that if you find yourself struggling to vanquish the resentment and envy you feel toward this unknown lady, then perhaps you should lay your heart bare. . ”
“What are you talking about?” she said, looking at me for the first time since I had walked in.
“That special bond between us,” I said, grinning. “Give in to that unspoken, secret desire which keeps you awake, yearning for my presence beside you. . ”
“Oh, that,” she said, returning her gaze to her work. “Well, what would be the use?”
This was new for Renthrette. My audacity usually irritated and flustered her in ways that made her prone to violence. I’d never seen her play along with such composure. For a moment I dried up. When words came to me, they did so slightly defiantly, though I grinned all the while. “Perhaps I would take you after all,” I said, wondering how far I’d have to push her before she took a swing at me. “Perhaps I’d take you in my arms and kiss you hard on the mouth and run my hands through your hair and. .”
She stood up abruptly. I smiled in quiet triumph as she took a step toward me, but her face was set, unamused.
“Would you really, Will?” she said. “Would you?” Her voice was soft, pensive. Even sad.
I stood where I was, my mouth open, dumb with surprise.
Her eyes searched my face and then fell slowly, sorrowfully. My mouth moved, but initially, nothing came out. Then I whispered, “I didn’t think. .”
“Don’t you think. .” She paused, catching her hand up to her mouth as her hair hung across her face, a picture of desolation. “Don’t you think it could work?
I hesitated, trying to catch up. “I think it could,” I said, trying to restrain my enthusiasm. “Sure. Why not? I just didn’t know that you were, you know, so. .
