My eyes catch again on the book in Old Fae, and hope rises in my chest that this might be a primary or original work of research. I open the dusty and massive volume, eyes blurring at the tiny characters. This is going to be challenging. I pull out a sheet of parchment to use as a scratch pad while I translate. The table of contents reveals that the book is structured around various topics, from the origins of the fae to ancient religion. A section on mates catches my attention, and I furrow my brows, flipping to that part.

I can translate about every fifth word and groan at my rusty translation skills. I’ll need to get an Old Fae dictionary from the archives, which means I have to leave my room on the Winter Solstice. Laurel would be outraged. We spend nearly every Solstice together, holed up in one of our chambers reading and eating sweets, refusing to leave or even change out of our night clothes.

A thought crosses my mind, turning around my sour mood. The Velmarans celebrate this holiday as well, which means the librarians won’t be working today, and I might be able to slip in and have the archives completely to myself. Mazus didn’t set any parameters about when I wasn’t allowed there—he had granted full access.

After dressing quickly, I make my way through the deserted castle to the wing dedicated to the archives. When I arrive, the doors are shut, and I worry they’ve been locked for the holiday. With a gentle push, however, they glide open easily. The massive entryway is eerily quiet compared to the usual noise of at least a dozen librarians walking about to direct patrons to the right section. The high ceilings are capped by a massive stained-glass dome that covers the entryway, letting in soft light that paints the marble floor in hues of red, yellow, and green. As I walk across the floor, my steps echo in the cavernous space.

Turning down the corridor that leads to the language section, I scan the paintings on the walls that I’ve never had the luxury to observe before, too caught up in my research to wander. There are depictions of the rolling golden plains of Velmara, and surprisingly, a painting of what must be Thayaria with its verdant and mountainous landscape. I check all the other artwork, but no other kingdom is represented, though there are several more paintings of Thayaria.

Lost in thought about what that could mean, and remembering Lobelia’s strange comment at the Forum about returning Velmara and Thayaria to allies as they once were, I crash right into another person.

“I’m so sorry,” Genevieve says from where I’ve knocked her to the ground. I offer my hand to help her up, and her soft skin momentarily distracts me from my whirling mind.