What if the next head librarianwasn’tBasil? What if it was one of the fae librarians from a noble family, like too-arrogant Benedict? That head librarian would be much more stuffy thanHead Librarian Marco, and everything about the Great Library would change. Would it remain a refuge that welcomed humans like Beatrice into its midst?
“The Library and I will be choosing my successor from among the master librarians on the second Midsummer Night.” Head Librarian Marco swept a glance over the crowd that was more sparkling amusement than the severity of King Theseus’s look. “All master librarians, even those currently stationed at outpost libraries, will need to be present in the Library on that night to be considered.”
Next to Beatrice, Basil and Meg shared another look, Meg’s fingers visibly tightening on Basil’s sleeve.
Beatrice swept a glance over the other master librarians she could pick out of the crowd. Master Librarian Demetrius wouldn’t be bad. He was from a noble family, but he and his wife Helena were friends of Basil and Meg. Master Librarian Lysander, another one of her sister and brother-in-law’s friends, would also be an excellent choice.
But then there were fae like Master Librarian Domitius. He stood next to Benedict, his arms crossed as he glared at the gathering. He’d spent the last eight years at a far-flung outpost library before being captured by the Court of Revels in the war. Apparently, he’d returned from his capture just as stuffy and pompous. Beatrice had heard that, before his exile to the outpost library, Domitius had harried librarians like Basil who weren’t from noble lines like he was. How much worse would he be to human librarians if he became the next head librarian?
At least Benedict wasn’t eligible, as he was only a lowly apprentice librarian like her.
“Consider the next month your assessment period. The Library and I will be watching and weighing your actions and performance.” Head Librarian Marco’s eyes were twinkling along with the mirthful curve of his smile. “This will also openup librarian positions down the line, so all of you, not just the master librarians, should be mindful that you are under scrutiny by myself and the Library.”
There would be an assistant librarian position opening up. Beatrice rocked back and forth on her heels to contain the excitement bubbling from her chest and all the way into her toes. She had to earn that spot. She simply had to.
Her gaze darted yet again to where Benedict still stood with the other recently returned prisoners. He, too, wore a gray librarian coat, even though he was two years older than her. He’d already been waiting for the promotion to assistant librarian for nearly a year when the war broke out and such things were put on hold. He, too, would be eager to claim the assistant librarian position, and he wouldn’t be too happy if she beat him to it. Especially since her sister Viola had beaten him to the last assistant librarian promotion.
His gaze snagged hers again. This time, there wasn’t an arrogant smirk. Just a solemn challenge.
Whatever happened in the next month, she couldn’t fail. That assistant librarian position had to be hers.
Chapter Three
Benedict tried to remember how to saunter with that complete nonchalance of a noble with the power of the Fae Realm at his fingertips. That was, after all, how his father and his older brother were strolling into the marble ballroom of the king’s palace. Both of them wore black coats cut to look like master librarian coats, although neither of them had ever progressed past the gray coat of an apprentice.
All nobles of the Court of Knowledge were required to spend a few years as apprentice librarians. A few even stuck around long enough to make assistant librarian. The handful who persevered beyond that—usually younger sons or daughters like Benedict—became master librarians.
Yet even those who didn’t stick with it liked to look like master librarians, given how revered the librarians were. Even King Theseus tended to dress in a coat cut similarly to a librarian coat. Although, as king of the librarians, he had far more right than anyone else.
Benedict had gone with a green coat rather than black. Still slightly pretentious, given he was a mere apprentice, butgrasping for the next step fit the image he needed to cultivate, both for his family and for the rest of the court.
“Finally.” Father’s mouth curled as he swept a glance over the ballroom, Benedict’s mother grasping his arm. “We can be done with that horrid war and get back to parties and revelries. They are not the same without the influence of the Court of Revels.”
“Now if only the king would stop supporting the Wild Fae Primrose.” Borachio, Benedict’s brother, reached for a glass of the faerie wine already poured at the refreshment table. “This truce with the Court of Revels won’t last long if the Wild Fae Primrose isn’t brought to heel.”
Benedict plastered on a sneer of his own as he picked up a glass of faerie wine. “The Wild Fae Primrose is the source of all the troubles of our court. He’s the reason I spent months in a fae prison, after all. The Court of Knowledge was just fine before we started supportinghumans.” He added an extra layer of spite to his voice as he shot a glance across the room to where a group of those humans was currently clustered.
Benedict tried very hard not to let his gaze rest on Beatrice, currently a vision in frothy pink. He didn’t let his eyes linger on the wavy, golden curls of her hair or the brilliance of her smile, and he definitely didn’t feel a flip in his stomach or a tightening in his chest.
“Yes. Humans.” His father’s sneer deepened. “Human librarians are such an abomination to the court.”
His mother made an agreeing nod as she claimed a flute of wine as well. “Horrid creatures.”
“Of course.” Benedict somehow didn’t choke on the agreement. He turned toward a group of other nobles standing nearby. “Don’t you think so, Lord Cappulet?”
Lord and Lady Cappulet both had glasses of faerie wine in their hands while Lady Cappulet rested a hand on the shoulder of their youngest daughter Juliet. At thirteen, Julietwas barely old enough to begin attending royal events like this. The Cappulets’ oldest daughter, Helena, had married Lord Demetrius years ago. He was now one of the most respected master librarians at the Library and likely one of the top candidates for becoming the next head librarian.
Lord Cappulet huffed and shook his head. “It is a disgrace.”
“Don’t say that too loudly where Helena will hear.” Lady Cappulet took another large gulp of her faerie wine. She’d be tipsy before the dancing even started at that rate. “She believes one of them is her friend.”
Benedict refused to flinch at the venom in Lady Cappulet’s voice nor let his smirk slip even a fraction.
Beside him, Borachio bobbed his head in agreement and downed another swig of wine. He’d be as tipsy as Lady Cappulet before too long. Mother wasn’t far behind the two of them.
Benedict had once agreed with every prejudicial word, back when he’d been a young boy and a family of humans first moved into the court, and he’d found an easy target in the youngest daughter. The pride on his father’s face every time Benedict tormented her had goaded him to do it again and again.
Then he’d begun growing up. He’d started to see her as a person and not just a target. Then he’d spent months in a dungeon being tormented himself, and he’d realized just how awful he’d been back then.
