“You don’t have to, really, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. Like I said, this happens a lot. It’s not the first time…”

I squeeze her hand tightly. “Genevieve, I would not offer something I’m not willing to give. I’m furious that this has happened so frequently to you that you think it’s normal. If you want me there, I’ll sit at the same aethers-damned table as him with my daggers and plants on full display, if that’s what you want. I will tie him to his chair with vines, wrap his dick so tight the blood can’t flow there.” She laughs, and relief washes over me.

“Yes, I would like that.” Her voice is soft. “For you to be in the section. Not to tie him up. Or do other things to him,” she says with another giggle. I only nod stoically, like a soldier taking orders from her general.

“Was there anything about your day that was good?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood, and she smiles again. A bright, genuine quirking of her lips that makes my breath catch. I serve us both the steaming dishes from the dinner tray as Genevieve tells me of her most recent research project on Eastern Velmaran flora. Her passionate explanations last the entire dinner. I listen quietly, noting the way her lips quirk or her eyes squint when she’s trying to remember something she read.

When we finish dinner and clear the table, I spread out Mazus’s books across it. After what happened to her today, our evening is only going to comprise dinner and companionable reading. Genevieve flips through each of the books before deciding to return to The Secrets and Stories of Velmara. She pulls it to her and immediately begins reading. I smile at the clear scholar she is. We read in silence, though she makes small tuts and murmurs as we read, little noises that make my chest warm.

After at least an hour spent translating across from her, she gasps. I’m instantly behind her, crouched so that I’m at eye level, curious at what surprised her.

“What is it?” I ask, my breath in her ear sending shivers down her entire body. Her throat moves with a deep swallow. I track the movement like Lunaria tracks her prey, but I stay silent, letting her soft and delicate smell wash over me.

“Librarians are assigned a research area that we must become experts on. Mine is the history of light channeling and the Andomer family, hence my interest in the plants of Eastern Velmara, where the Andomers are from. I just read a section that—it says—contradicts…” She’s flustered and can barely get the words out. I squeeze her thigh reassuringly. “It contradicts what’s in our archives,” she finally says, slowly.