Page 71 of The Witch Queen

“It’s good to see you,” I tell him, meaning it. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Where else would I be?” He gestures around us. “A collection becomes like family after a time. I can’t imagine leaving it behind.”

I smile, warming to the idea that books can be family.

“But I suppose you’re here to prepare for the next trial?” the Keeper asks.

“Unfortunately,” I confirm, already dreading the hours ahead of me.

“Well, you’re not alone.”

Master William indicates the other claimants scattered around at the tables, half hidden behind their own towering piles of books. There are a few courtiers as well, wandering the aisles or peering around the stacks, the click of their heels and rustle of their skirts spoiling the usual peace of the library. Judging from the flash of coin, a few of them might even be placing bets.

I doubt any of them are betting on you,that voice comments.

“Don’t worry,” Master William says, patting my arm. “It may not bestrictlypermitted, but I’ve saved some of the most thorough historiesespecially for you. I’ll be right back with them. And we’ve just had a tray of tarts delivered from the kitchens. Shall I bring those as well?”

“That would be wonderful,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

He smiles at me and disappears into the stacks. Verity doesn’t seem to be here yet and so I wander the nearby area, revisiting some of my favorite places. Against the east wall, a giant glass cylinder contains a huge preserved eel whom I used to call Bartholomew. When I was younger, I was convinced he could understand me when I spoke to him. That his tail would swish in greeting every time I visited.

But not even Bartholomew could hold my attention as well as the enchanted Dwarvian map. I used to stand in front of the piece for ages, watching the trees rustle in the invisible wind and the minuscule people roving around the cities. Ever since my conversation with Gavin, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the rest of Riven. I’d gone so far as to ask a few of my servants about their own families. None of them would share much. In fact, I got the distinct impression that they were worried about what I would do with such information. Like they were afraid of me. Should it be that way?

A dark shape leaps up onto the map and I startle.

“Nettle,” I scold. She swishes her tail in greeting. “Get down. And what are you doing here?”

I get my answer at the click of approaching footsteps. I peer through the stacks. Sure enough, the gaudy stones of Ayleth’s crown gleam on the other side of the shelf.

Damn everything.

I’ve been avoiding her since the hunt and have no desire to change that now. As silently as I can, I begin to sneak away. But then a loudthumpechoes in the quiet.

My attention whips to the right, where Nettle has decided to knock a book off the highest shelf. She blinks her golden eyes at me, evidently proud of herself as she settles, loaf-like, into the place where the book used to be.

What are you doing?I mouth at her. She flicks her tail, amused.

“Is someone there?” Ayleth calls.

I’m tempted to say nothing, but it will be worse if I’m caught lurking. Grudgingly, I abandon my hiding place. Ayleth’s eyes widen as I step around the shelf.

“Oh. Blodwyn.”

Awkwardness hums between us. Nettle saunters into view and winds herself around my ankles.

“I see the two of you are still friends,” Ayleth comments.

I shrug. “She visits the menagerie on occasion.”

Though after today, there will be decidedly less treats. If any. I glare down at the cat, who only yawns and stretches.

Traitor,I accuse.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ayleth says. She stands taller, like she’s steeling herself. “And…I’m also glad that I ran into you. I’m sorry, again, about the misunderstanding with the bow. Despite how it may have appeared, I merely wished to show my support.”

She’s right—itdidn’tappear that way. Especially not when I saw her after I claimed the apple. That strange expression on her face. I wonder if Ayleth agrees with people like Isabel, who don’t believe I should have passed the trial. Maybe she was hoping I would wind up disqualifying myself to save her further trouble.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say. “As you saw, I didn’t wind up needing the bow to win. I’m sorry if that disappointed you.”