Page 36 of The Witch Queen

“This is my assigned section,” she rushes out. “All librarians are given research areas, and we become experts in that field. Assignments only change once every hundred years or so. I’ve been studying Eastern Velmara for the last eighty years.”

“Is it an interesting topic for you?”

“Oh yes! Eastern Velmara is fascinating. It’s so different from Western Velmara and the capital. And since the Andomers—the previous ruling family—hail from there, it’s filled with important Velmaran history. I was thrilled to receive the assignment.” Her joyful demeanor is contagious, and I find myself feeling more at home than I have in weeks. I give her a genuine smile, and she blushes, her eyes dropping to the floor. “Sorry. I get too excited about my research. My mentor is always telling me patrons don’t want to hear about it,” she admits.

I take a step towards her. “Your mentor is an idiot,” I assert. “And so is anyone who doesn’t want to hear about your passion for your job.” Her blush only deepens, prompting me to close the distance between us even more. There’s a moment, so quick I could have imagined it, where I think she leans into me, lips parted. But that can’t be correct, and weeks with no companionship of any kind has made me see things that aren’t there. Velmaran females are known for being traditional, boring prudes, and same-sex relationships are taboo here.

“Genevieve,” a harsh male voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “What are you doing? The Delsar scholar has been looking for you for an hour.” She steps away from me, and I turn to see Dern, his black beady eyes narrowed in ire. “Get back to that scholar, or your uncle will hear that you’re shirking your responsibilities.” Genevieve shuffles past me, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. A fierce protectiveness ignites in me at the sight.

“Excuse me, but this librarian was assisting me with something,” I retort coldly.

“I don’t care what she was doing. Her job today is to assist the Delsar scholar with whatever he needs, not run off with Thayarianscum,” Dern leers. I scoff at the insult. I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when Genevieve places her hand softly on my arm.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs so only I can hear, squeezing my arm gently. Then she adds loudly, I assume for Dern’s benefit, “I will assist you with your query tomorrow, once the Delsar scholar departs.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say firmly, narrowing my own eyes at Dern. He only sneers at me, then turns on his heel to follow Genevieve away.

After a few more hours of getting nowhere in the archives, my mind too focused on dinner with the King, I return to my room. A long box sits on my bed, and I bristle at the invasion of my space. When I open the box, I nearly choke at the monstrosity inside. Mazus has sent me a dress. It’s gold and practically transparent, with two high slits up both sides that will show off my entire bottom half. The straps are dainty and the top dips low. Embroidered suns, the symbol of Velmara, cover nearly every inch of the dress. A plan forms in my mind, and I smile to myself, looking forward to seeing Mazus’s face when I appear in front of him. With that happy image in my head, I get to work preparing for the evening.

When I leave the chambers, the gown swishes over the black fighting leathers I wear underneath it. I’ve strapped daggers to both thighs, making sure the sheaths are low enough to be visible through the slits in the dress. While the top half of my body is still exposed, I used plants to weave between the deep vee and cover more of my chest. I also used the plants to widen the straps and left vines trailing down my arms. My hair is braided back in the same simple style I use when I train, and I’m wearing the black boots of a solider.

As I approach the King’s dining room, his guards bristle when they see me. I bare my teeth, and they stare me down. For added effect, I whisper to them, “Don’t forget who I serve.” They both blanch, and the effect is comical in their shining golden armor that wouldn’t do an aethers-damned thing on a real battlefield. They open the doors, and I enter yet another gilded room in this eyesore of a palace.

“Mazus, thank you for the invitation,” I say with fake sweetness and a mocking curtsy.

He looks me up and down, frowning for only a moment before recovering. “Nemesia, thank you for agreeing to join me. I should have invited you sooner. Please, forgive me for my lapse in manners.”

He sits at the head of the table and gestures for me to sit next to him. Instead, I sit at the other end, tapping into the aether so the plants at my arms move. They grow, wrapping around my half of the table and down the legs. Mazus’s eyes narrow—I’ve clearly irked him. I stifle my smile.

“I’m so happy to see you’re making yourself comfortable here in Velmara,” he says pointedly.

I take a sip of the wine, then smile. “Indeed. While plants are in short supply in the palace and city, if cultivated correctly, they would be quite successful here. Hot and humid climates are perfect for many species of flora.”

“I will take that under advisement, Ambassador Nemesia. Or is it General? I can never remember.” I stiffen, and he leers at me. The barb lands as intended.

“Let’s not pretend you don’t know I’m no longer an army commander. I don’t even lead Her Majesty’s Royal Guard.”

“What a shame,” Mazus says. “While we of course don’t believe females should engage in soldiering here in Velmara, you made for auniqueadversary all those years ago. You really shouldn’t blame yourself for losing. You put up an excellent fight, for a female.” His eyes glimmer with malice. I only purse my lips, not allowing him to get under my skin. “Do you at least maintain your fighting skills? If you need a training space, I’d be happy to show you Prince Hawthorne’s sparring arena below the palace. I can’t return you to Queen Laurel weakened, after all.”

I want to say no, but I wouldn’t mind access to a space to train, especially if it’s private. “That would be most welcome, thank you.” The compliance makes me nauseous, but I endure.

He gives me a severe smile that pulls his features into a menacing expression. “I’ll see that you’re escorted there tomorrow.” He claps his hands, and servants appear, bringing in dozens of steaming dishes. Velmaran food is rich and full of flavor, and I hate how much my mouth waters during every meal.

Once the dishes are set and we both begin serving ourselves, Mazus resumes the conversation. “Now, tell me how your research is progressing. The librarians tell me you’re focused on the thayar flower and Thayarian history. Are you finding what you hoped you would find?” I take a large bite of food and chew slowly, buying myself time to think how to respond. It’s no surprise that the librarians brief him on what topics I request books on, but I don’t want to give him information he could use against Thayaria.

“My first goal has been to cross-check and compare the information from Thayaria’s own archives with those in Velmara, hence my interest in books on the thayar and my kingdom’s history. So far, the records are the same,” I explain, hoping the lie is believable.

“I see. A commendable strategy,” he says, “if it were true.” I pause while drinking from my wine glass, then set it down and stare at him. “Nemesia, come now, let’s not pretend the right hand of the elusive and secretive Thayarian Queen negotiated access to Velmaran archives and personally volunteered as the emissary simply to cross-check and compare information.” His eyes are bright with knowing. “No, I think you have a very specific and critical research question.”

Shit.

I switch tactics, nodding my head and raising my glass towards him in mock surrender. “You’ve caught me, Mazus. Well done. That doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you anything more.” I give him a coy look before taking a long sip from the wine, my mind racing to put together what his angle is.

“Of course not, Nemesia. As a hobby researcher myself, I understand the importance of keeping one’s scholarly interests close to the chest.”

Hobby researcher? More like mad aethermancer.

“I’d love to see your famed experiment room, Your Majesty.”

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