Page 9 of Unravelled
Torvyn had taken up their father’s mantle after his passing, now serving as one of the Queen’s advisors. Rows of ancient scrolls and heavy tomes surrounded his office, a place of quiet strategy and sharp decisions. He was all she had left now. The last of her blood.
Mira quickened her pace, hoping to catch him before the afternoon swept him into court affairs. She needed to speak with him about the growing strain in the outer villages. The shortages, the unrest. Rebellion, once unthinkable, now lingered at the edges of conversation like smoke before flame.
Turning a corner, she collided hard with someone, the impact sending her stumbling back. Before she could fully lose her footing, a firm hand snaked around her waist, steadying her.
“Mira,” She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Ren. “It seems I can’t walk and read,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin. He ran his hand through his hair, slightly dishevelling it. He wore a dark tunic tucked into well-worn riding trousers, the edges of his sleeves dusted faintly with ink and parchment dust, as if he’d come straight from the archives without bothering to change. A thin leather satchel hung at his side.
“Ren,” she said, straightening and stepping out of his grasp, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. Her cheeks were warm, but she lifted her chin, voice light. “You should really watch where you’re going. That book nearly took me out.”
He laughed, unbothered, and pointed the leather-bound volume at her like a sword. “Or maybe you should stop sneaking around like a ghost.”
Mira smiled, “Maybe you’re just easily startled,” she shot back, arching a brow.“
Untrue,” he said, solemnly. “I’m startled exclusively by rogue noblewomen launching sneak attacks in narrow hallways.”
“It wasn’t an attack,” she said, brushing off her skirts again. “I just don’t expect people to come barreling around corners with their noses buried in books. What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” she asked, eyeing the cover.
“Light reading,” he said, far too casually. He tilted the book toward her, the gold-embossed title catching the light. Legends of the Navigators. "Nothing that warrants knocking someone over, though.”
Ren’s grin softened, his expression shifting to something more sincere. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
“I’m alright” Mira gently stepped just out of reach with a light shrug. The movement was subtle but intentional, and his hand dropped back to his side.
For a fleeting moment, his expression changed. She saw the flash of regret in his eyes. An attendant passed behind them, casting a brief glance their way. Ren’s posture didn’t change, but Mira felt the shift in the air. How visible they suddenly were.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, recovering quickly, his casual tone returning.
“The library,” Mira said, glancing back at him. “Torvyn’s office, specifically.”
Ren’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of Torvyn, his brows lifting with mild curiosity. “Important business?” he asked, voice casual but clearly interested.
“Potentially,” she said, careful with her words. “Just something I need to discuss with him. Things for the villages, to help Tharion.”
Ren studied her for a moment, his scanning her face as if searching for more than she was willing to share. Then he nodded, the teasing grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll accompany you,” he said lightly, holding up the book in his hand. “I need to return this.” Ren spun on his heel and started down the hallway, the faintest bounce in his step as if he’d already decided she wouldn’t argue.
Two acolytes passed them in the opposite direction, slowing slightly to whisper behind their hands. Mira sighed inwardly. “Didn’t you just collect that book?”
Over his shoulder, he called back to her, “Potentially...”
Mira huffed. As much as she wanted to avoid the gossip that seemed to follow Ren wherever he went, she also knew arguing with him would only draw more attention. With a glance at the onlookers behind her, she followed him down the hall.
???
The occasional rustle of parchment and the distant hum of a passing steward beyond the arched doorway broke the stillness in the library. Towering shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, their wooden frames worn smooth with age, each filled with books and scrolls that smelled of dust and ink. High above, arched windows let in golden afternoon light, their glass panes casting shifting patterns across the floor. A narrow outdoor balcony wrapped along the upper level, its wrought-iron railing twisted into curling vines.
Tucked among the rows were small reading nooks, some barely large enough for a single chair and a lamp, others hidden behind heavy curtains or shelves that curved inward like a secret waiting to be found. Mira had spent many hours here under Cleric Perrin’s direction, copying records, translating half-crumbling scrolls, and losing herself in texts far older than herself.
Torvyn had stepped out but was due to return shortly. Mira had waited. The conversation ahead weighed too heavily on her mind to be postponed. Ren, to her mild surprise, had waited with her. He lounged comfortably in a cushioned chair by the window, one leg slung casually over the other, the golden sunset light pooling around him. It caught in the tousled strands of his hair, and painted warm shadows across the spines of the ancient tomes behind him, giving the entire corner a quietly enchanted glow.
In his hands, the book he’d claimed earlier hung open but forgotten, resting on his knee as his gaze drifted idly to the gardens beyond the glass. Across from him, Mira sat upright in one of the high-backed reading chairs, a worn leather-bound book open in her lap. Her fingers turned the pages with practiced ease, but her eyes barely skimmed the words. Her mind buzzed with the things she needed to say to Torvyn, the warnings, the unrest.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It had a kind of ease to it, the kind that only came with long-standing familiarity. Every so often, Ren would glance her way, never long enough to break the moment, but just enough to let her know he was still there, choosing to wait with her.
“Do you ever think about the Navigators?” Ren asked, his tone light, almost dismissive, as he thumbed lazily through the pages of his book.
She barely glanced up from her own reading. “Of course. Everyone does.”
He shrugged, the movement casual, almost careless. “They’re just stories, aren’t they? Tales to keep children in line,” He lifted his chin. “Honor the Navigators, or the storms shall rise and sweep you away.” An unmistakable imitation of Cleric Perrin.
