Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(54)

“Good. I think I can work with a tango. Just follow my lead, Ava, and we’ll look nice and romantic for the cameras.”

“Of course.”

He led me between the towering columns into a magnificent library with two stories of books connected by spirals of stairs. The ceiling above the mahogany bookshelves was arched, with painted images of fae dancing in grassy fields, wildflowers threaded into their brightly colored locks.

Looking up at them, I felt a sharp longing for a past I’d never known.

Down the center of the room, green shaded lamps stood on rows of desks. Leather chairs sat waiting for use. Simple wooden circles hung from the ceiling, lit with flickering candles that had to be the worst fire risk in the world.

Torin turned to me. “Wait here for a few minutes. I’ll return with some of the birth records from your year. You’re the same age as me, yes?”

I nodded. “Twenty-six.” Figuring out the age of a fae baby left on a hospital front entrance wasn’t an exact science, but I was fairly sure of the year and month.

When Torin left me on my own, I wandered between the bookshelves, enthralled. There were thousands upon thousands of volumes with swirling gold designs on the bindings, all written in a language I couldn’t read. Other volumes in shining leather covers were in modern human languages.

I walked through the library until I finally caught sight of a willowy, silver-haired fae sitting behind a mahogany desk. “May I help you?” she called out in a thin, reedy voice.

“Can people check out books here?”

“If you have a library card.” Her eyes were a remarkably bright shade of green, and they studied me with an expression that wasn’t entirely friendly.

“I don’t have one, I’m afraid.”

She drummed her fingernails. “Nobody may borrow books from the Royal Library without a library card.” She slapped a small piece of paper on top of the desk in front of me and thrust a fountain pen at me. “Sign here.”

I signed and dated the contract. Just as I finished, a bright light flashed from the paper, and it disappeared. “May I take out anything?” I asked.

“Limit of ten at a time,” said the librarian. “If you don’t return them in fourteen days, your brand gets activated.”

“My…brand?”

“Well, technically, it’s a royal binding,” said the librarian. “If you don’t return your books on time, a glowing letter L appears in the middle of your forehead. Burns the skin until the books are returned.”

I stared at her. “That could have been explained ahead of time.”

“As long as you return the books, there won’t be a problem.” She handed me a small golden card with my name inscribed on it. “What kind of book were you looking for?”

“What do you recommend about fae history?” Though I wasn’t really sure I wanted to borrow one anymore.

She turned in her chair, mumbling in a fae language, and a red book flew through the air and into her hand. She dropped it into her lap. The red book was followed by a brown one and another bound in faded blue cloth. She spun her chair back around and slid the three books onto the desk. “There’s A Short History of the Fae by Oberon, A Slightly Longer History of the Fae by Mistress Titania, and of course, the classic The Complete History of the Fae by R. Goodfellow.”

I glanced at the titles, but they were illegible to me. “You know what? I won’t be able to read those, so I’ll just—”

The librarian closed her eyes and began to incant a spell, her fingers moving with jerky insect-like movements.

Light burst before my eyes, and I felt as if a nail had been driven into my skull. I clasped my head, staggering at the pain.

“Stay still,” hissed the librarian, “unless you want to end up with mush between your ears. I’m helping you.”

Holding my breath, I forced myself not to move even as strange voices hummed in my ears. My vision swirled with images of the fae language. I gasped as an overwhelming amount of information wove itself into my thoughts: each of the forty-two letters in the alphabet, the importance of the silent P, and the five words for magic.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the flood of information slowed to a trickle. Dizzy, I pressed my hands against the desk, trying not to pass out.

The librarian pushed a book across the desk at me. “Well, can you read it now?”

My gaze swept across the text, and the title came into focus. “A Short History of the Fae.”

Oh, my gods. I could read Fae?

“Ava?” Torin rounded the corner of the bookshelves, carrying a large wooden box. “These are all the birth records in Faerie from twenty-six years ago…” He fell silent and stared at me. “Madame Peasbottom,” he said in a deathly quiet voice, “what did you do to her?”

Her face paled, and she stammered, “Just the usual security protocol. We can’t have books being stolen.”

“I will take personal responsibility for any books that are damaged or lost. But there will be no branding of my guests.” Icy air raced over my skin.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” she said, stumbling over the words.

Torin’s attention was on me. He spoke quickly, another spell, and a moment later, the skin on my forehead flashed with heat, then cooled.