Again, I only shrug. “I don’t mind,” I tell her, though she seems unconvinced. “Plus, a larger room would surely come with nobles and courtiers trying to position themselves close to me to somehow sweep the rooms out from under me. I spend most of my day in the archives, anyway. All I need is a bed and a place to eat.” I gesture for Genevieve to sit across from me at the small table tucked into a corner, and she does. She delicately lays a napkin across her lap, then serves herself a small portion of food. I frown, realizing she has the manners of a noble. I should have realized sooner that she was from a noble family. “How was your day?” I ask, hoping to probe more about what had her so upset now that we’re away from the library. She launches into a story about the Reshnar scholar.

“He’s awful and acts so entitled because the King invited him here. I spent the entire day running across the archives to fetch books for him because he was too lazy to get up himself and retrieve them. And then at the end of the day, he had the audacity to try—to put—” She trails off, and I study her blushing face closely. Unease builds in my gut, along with hot, churning anger.

“What happened?”

“Well, you know how males can be,” she says, the flippancy in her voice not matching the horror and grief in her eyes.

“Did he touch you, Genevieve?” I ask, my voice low and filled with fury.

Her eyes dart to the floor. “It’s nothing I’m not used to. It shouldn’t have bothered me.” I reach my hand across the table and grab hers, stroking soothing circles with my thumb.

“That’s bullshit. You are not an object for males to do with what they please. What happened?”

She wipes her eyes quickly. “He grabbed me from behind while I was shelving and pulled me tightly against him. His breath was so hot on my neck, and I felt—he ground against my backside.” She’s bright red now, cheeks aflame with embarrassment and shame. My blood boils. Living at Laurel’s side the last three hundred years has isolated me from the realities of the world. I’d forgotten what it meant to be a vulnerable female in situations where males have more power. I lift Genevieve’s chin to lock her eyes on mine.

“I am so incredibly sorry that happened to you, Genevieve. It isn’t okay, and you have every right to be affected by it. How much longer is he here?”

“Just one more day,” she admits, eyes filling with tears.

“Would you like me to sit downstairs in your section tomorrow?”