Chapter 46

Beau strides into my room right as Acker finishes pulling on his shirt from the night before. "Ah, so this is what the maidservants were chattering about this morning," she remarks, smile downright mischievous.

"He was just leaving," I say, cringing at the panic in my voice.

Acker's cloying eyes cut to me still lounging in the bed. Even after the night of kissing followed by the deepest I think I've slept in my entire life, my cheeks burn. It only serves to make his smile grow.

"Yuck." She sticks out her tongue while making a nauseating gagging sound. "Get a room."

Acker is far less amused by his sister's antics. "You're standing in it."

Falling into one of the chairs, she lifts a brow. "Better?"

"You wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of our father, would you?" he asks, taking the chair opposite her to put his shoes on.

"Not a clue," she says. "Haven't seen him since we got back. Thank the gods." The last line is uttered under her breath.

Acker doesn't like her answer, but he fixes a careful smile on his face. "Be good to Jovie today, yeah?"

Beau smiles. "I shall take her under my wing."

Although she means it to be a teasingly mild threat, I can see the gratitude in Acker's eyes as he dips a nod to her. He stands and walks to the bed, leaning over with his hands braced on either side of my legs.

"Take today to rest. Explore the palace. Eat," he says, smiling at the low growl emanating from my belly. "Tomorrow morning, I'm taking you down to start training." He leans close, placing soft lips on mine. "I'm eager to see you with a sword in your hand."

I internally groan at the thought but let him kiss me anyway.

"Is that an innuendo?" Beau asks, face scrunched in disgust.

Laughing, I push Acker away with a hand against his chest. "Don't ask questions you won't like the answer to, Beau."

Beau gags again, maybe for real this time, and Acker laughs as he walks to the door. Her eyes don't leave him until the door clicks shut behind him, and I'm surprised by the worry in her expression when she looks at me.

She's quick to blink it away. "Are we staying in bed all day?"

As much as I love the prospect, my stomach is all but screaming at me to feed it. Beau waits while I use the bathroom and get dressed. The soft pants and matching blue top fit me to perfection. I find I'm unable to stop myself from running my hands over the fabric. Compared to the rough, simple cuts of fabric from Alaha, it's going to take time to get used to.

"Boys." Beau greets the guards outside my door on our way out. "Take off the rest of the day."

My least favorite of the two glares at me before departing.

Beau watches their backs retreat down the hallway before looking at me. "What was that about?"

"I'm not sure," I say, honestly. "But I don't like him."

"You should tell Acker."

"Why?"

"They're his men." She turns and leads us in the opposite direction of how I was escorted to my room last night. "Our father wanted to put a suppressor on you, but Acker convinced him to let two men in his ranks keep watch over you instead."

"A suppressor?"

She touches the base of her neck. "A collar to dull your magic. Anyone with gifts outside of the palace is required to wear one, but your lack of control worries the regents. They think you're too dangerous without the proper training."

We pass a maidservant exiting one of the doors lining the hallway. She freezes, bedding pulled in close to her chest and gaze stuck on me as we pass, like she's scared to move out of fear of me. I'm quick to avert my eyes.

"Don't do that," Beau chides. "Don't cower."

I know that, logically, but I just…hate the idea of making anyone uncomfortable.

Beau stops, sharp eyes pinning me in place. "Their apprehension toward you isn't your doing and it's not your problem. Got it?"

I'm momentarily stunned by the sharpness of her beauty, smiling at the contradiction of her admonishment. "You're paying awfully close attention to my aura."

She rolls her eyes, but I spot the grin as we resume our pace. "It's extra loud today."

I don't need to clarify what she means, because I can practically feel the contentment radiating from me, knowing the cause for my bliss is due to who slept in my bed last night.

Beau takes me down to the kitchen, bypassing the breakfast being served in the dining hall.

"Full of braggers and tattletales," she says.

There's a noticeable unease in the kitchen staff, but they loosen up in Beau's presence. It's obvious they're well acquainted with her, and she inquires about the growing baby bump of one of the sculleries, which further alleviates the worry in the air. We're served full plates of eggs and sausage and these cakes with a sugar dressing that they call pancakes. A moan escapes my mouth, and they all titter at my reddening cheeks.

"This is the best thing I've ever eaten," I tell them.

Henry, the cook, slaps a rag against the butcher block counter before moving on to his next task. "You've yet to be truly amazed, princess. Just you wait."

I'm only able to finish a quarter of the portions served to me, but they don't seem to find it rude as they clear my dishes. Next Beau gives me a tour. We start in the state room, the place where the king greeted us upon our arrival. It branches off from there into four quadrants like a rounded-out square with a massive courtyard in the middle. My room, as I learn, is on the west end.

As we continue to traverse the corridors, I begin to discover that the majority of the palace is unoccupied. Rooms sit fully furnished but empty. It's nauseating in comparison to the condensed population of Alaha where it's one room stacked on top of another like fish in a can.

Beau explains how the king keeps his closest advisors at court year round, but lords and parishioners of Kenta only stay for periods at a time when needed. Most came when the king sent word of my pending arrival, so the palace is fuller than it's been in decades. We find the majority of the current tenants are congregated along the inner corridor.

Heads turn and watch as we walk past the onlookers. We could pass as vagrants in comparison. Dressed in opulent dresses and silks, the women and men look like they're dressed for a party, not to stroll along the promenade. Even so, I maintain my gait, keep my gaze forward, and remind myself of Beau's words.

The passageway gives a perfect view to spectate the soldiers training in the courtyard below. The clang of metal and grunts of men echo up the open palace walls. Set up in different stations, soldiers perform conditioning and strengthening exercises very similar to the ones we do in Alaha.

I scan the men, stopping when I spot Acker standing amongst the fray watching a sparring match in the center of the courtyard. He leans toward Hallis, commenting on the match, arms folded across the expanse of his chest. His skin is flushed, skin glistening with sweat in the midday sun. I swallow the excess moisture in my mouth.

As if he senses me nearby, his eyes rise in my direction, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees me watching from the veranda. Hallis notices Acker's diverted attention, eyes following to our location, and he also smirks when he spots us.

Beau huffs a breath of annoyance. "Men are insufferable creatures," she says, giving them her back. "Is there anything else you're interested in seeing?"

"The library. "

It's a long walk to the uppermost level. The doors stand open as if inviting wanderers and scholars alike to step inside. The smell hits me first, assaulting me with ink and paper and worn leather. Books and scrolls line the shelves of the curved walls, drawing the eyes toward the spired ceiling above.

"Good gods," I whisper in awe.

A female voice draws my attention back to our level. "Don't forget about the bad ones too." Smirking over the gold rims of her glasses, the woman stands from behind the circular desk in the center of the space. "Everyone's always muttering about the good gods, but the bad ones are way more interesting."

Beau parks herself on the edge of the desk, metal rope clanging against its wooden top. "If you believe in fairy tales."

"I'm a librarian, darling. Of course I do."

They embrace, hugging for a beat before letting go. "Mother," Beau says. "Meet Jovie, the lost princess of Maile."

Mother …meaning Beau and Acker aren't full siblings.

"Jovie, please meet my mother, Greta."

Beau's mother walks to me, reaching for and clasping my hands in hers. "It is my utmost pleasure," she says, placing her forehead against the back of my hands.

It catches me off guard, and I look to Beau for guidance, but all she does is give a half shrug in response, not at all surprised by her mother's greeting.

"It's nice to meet you, too," I manage to say.

"My apologies," Greta says, releasing me and pushing the frames of her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I can be a lot. That's why they sequester me in the library. "

Beau's voice comes out sardonic. "That's not why."

"Hush," Greta spits out of the corner of her mouth.

My eyes catch on the necklace at the base of her throat, tortoiseshell and shiny in the light pouring in from the windows above. I realize it's made of mangi stone.

"What can I help you with?" she asks, eyes bright.

"Uh, I'm not sure, actually." My eyes go back to the book-lined walls. "I've only ever read about libraries, never seen one."

This horrifies Greta. Absolutely, profoundly horrifies her.

"Let me give you the grand tour," she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her.

Beau smiles at her overzealous mother. "She's not big on personal boundaries."

"Not true," Greta insists, though Beau's face says otherwise.

Greta leads us up the staircase that lines the winding walls. Every few stacks there's a sitting space or desk designed into the shelves, like the reader is immersed in the library as they simultaneously bury themselves in the pages of books.

By the time we reach the top where a small seating area is, I'm slightly out of breath. The weeks of travel have done a number on my stamina, and I already know training is going to be a special form of hell in the morning.

"So," Greta says, waving her fingers about. "What will it be? Do you prefer mystery? Drama? Maybe a little romance?" She wiggles her eyebrows at the last suggestion, but none of the categories mentioned are what I'm hoping to find. I'm cautious, and Greta must sense my hesitancy, because she becomes more subdued. "I keep the erotica behind the counter."

Beau rolls her eyes at her mother, but it's all in fun. It's obvious she adores the woman, and now I can see where Beau gets her radiant personality.

Laughing, I shake my head. "Maybe another time. I'm looking for information regarding matching bonds."

Lifting a brow, Greta's gaze is curious but open. "I have that."

We descend the entire length of the tower. She yanks on a chain near the massive wooden doors at the entrance, sending a rumble of vibration through our feet as they swing closed, knocking some books from their shelves. She pays them no mind as she leads us to her desk, ushering us to its center.

"Here is where we keep the archives."

I'm about to ask where, only seeing half-bound books—and, indeed, erotica behind the desk judging by the illustrated spines—when she pulls a hidden lever under the counter and the floor slides away. I brace my feet, not wanting to slip into the darkness below.

Greta mumbles under her breath. "It's around here somewhere."

Then there's a tick of sound before light illuminates the staircase. Greta descends first, followed by myself and Beau. A fraction of the size of the main library, the room is a tiny replica of the one above it. Its confines somehow make it all the more daunting.

"This is where the archives are kept." Greta inspects the book spines until she finds the one she's looking for and hands it to me. "It is very old, so please be delicate with it."

"Of course," I tell her .

I run my fingers over the embossed leather. Matching and Other Bonds. It's heavy and twice the size of my primary school textbook in Alaha.

"Can I?" I ask, motioning to the desk.

"I would usually not mind, but I'm currently working on something myself. These are my studies here," she says, waving a hand over the open texts. "Anything you would like is yours to borrow as long as you promise not to tell anyone. Many of these books are forbidden." She winks at me conspiratorially. "Which is my favorite kind."

I thank her and ask if she has anything on the history of light wielders. She doesn't ask questions, just simply finds the text on a nearby shelf and hands it to me. I settle on the two books for now. "It should keep me busy for a while."

Finding an alcove with a desk in the main library, Beau retrieves a mystery to keep her busy as I dive into the weighty book on bonds. I spend the majority of the day scouring for any information I can find about matching bonds, but there's not much.

Greta sends up lunch sometime midday. A few stragglers come into the library, but none stay long after discovering my presence. It's almost as if I was gifted with repulsion and light wielding. I'm nearly convinced of it, except the text details that each Heir receives only one gift.

It also states they receive a single bond each, if they're lucky enough to get one. Or unlucky, depending on which text I'm reading. It's a collection of discoveries and observations over time, written by unknown authors. Some recount stories of matches who were connected at the hip, each not existing without the other nearby, but others speak of the devastation of matches who despised one another and the hardships they inflicted upon those close to them. There's a list of matches from before the war, all of them dead.

Sighing, I look up, and golden hair catches my attention on the first level of the library. It's the girl Acker was standing next to last night. She's somehow even more beautiful in the daylight. The crimson of her dress looks like blood pooling around her ankles. The collar of mangi stones shines as she shifts, her eyes meeting mine from below. She smiles, and I'm so taken aback by the kind gesture I have to remind myself to give the same in return.

I say Beau's name to get her attention.

"Hm?"

I motion with my chin. "Who's that?"

Beau looks over the railing then back at me, a strange sort of look in her eyes. "That's Irina."

I already know I'm going to hate the answer, but I ask anyway. "Who's Irina?"

"The princess of Strou."

My heartbeat fills my ears, and I can feel the reddening of my cheeks as I fight to remain unaffected, but my blood is boiling in my veins. There's no hiding it from Beau. Not with her abilities.

"He didn't tell you she was here?"

I shake my head.

She cusses then rolls her eyes. "He's an idiot."

I wait until Irina leaves before telling Beau I want to return to my room. Shock and adrenaline begin to morph into unfiltered anger. I want to pick up the old text and throw it off the stairs, but I keep my wits about me and shut it with a calm I don't feel. I manage to thank Greta once again, promising to return the book in a few days.

After I murder Acker with it.

The walk back to my room is silent. I'm sure I scare even more of the staff in my fuming state of dazed marching, each step more punctuated than the last. I barge into my room, coming up short at my made bed. The clothes I left dirty on the floor have been cleared away. Undoubtedly the maidservants' doing, waiting until I left to clean, but it's the parcel sitting in the center of my bed that stops me in my tracks.

I look to Beau for an explanation, but she only grins. I pull apart the twine bow on the wrapped parcel to reveal a sketchbook and charcoal pencil, the same as the one Kai's family gifts me every year. I flip over the note tied to it, air sticking in my lungs at the words scrawled in small penmanship.

Draw me something. -Acker

I throw it down on the bed and march into the bathroom to take a bath. It's the only thing I can think of to calm me down at this point. I turn the spigot, and while I wait for the tub to fill, I focus on breathing through the stinging in my chest. My hands are glowing.

Beau leans against the doorway, legs crossed at the ankles. "Your heart isn't the only heart you'll break, you know?"

I shake my hands, and they dim a little. "Are you telling me you predict the future, too?"

She smiles. "My mother does."