by Dan Wingreen
Elias had the distinct impression the Prince had intended to say something different, but he wasn't nearly curious enough to call him on it.
"I tend not to think about it," he said.
The Prince blinked. "Seriously?"
Elias nodded. "Visiting foreign royalty doesn't affect me in any way, no matter where that royalty comes from. It would be a waste of my time to speculate about such a visit, especially since the only way I would be able to satisfy any curiosity I might have is by listening to second- or third hand gossip. I generally don't inhabit the same social circles as royal guests," he added.
"Always so logical," the Prince said, shaking his head. "Do you have an opinion on whether it's a good idea, at least?"
"I don't know enough about the situation to have an informed opinion either way."
"Opinions don't always need to be informed, Elias."
"Yet another reason why you will make a bad king." The Prince opened his mouth, but Elias cut him off before he could say anything. "There is not enough reliable information about Mournhelm, its royalty, or its inhabitants to be able to do anything but guess about how this exchange will turn out. The only informed assumption that can be made is that both 'guests' will attempt to spy for their respective kings, which every single ambassador in the castle already does. The Dark Prince could use terrible magics to destroy the kingdom the moment he steps over our border, he might bring gifts and swear his kingdom's everlasting loyalty to your family, or it might be anything in between."
"But what if you had to make a guess?" the Prince pressed.
Elias studied him. "Why do you wish to know so badly?"
The Prince hesitated, a look passing across his face that Elias was much more familiar with.
"You know that His Majesty won't change his mind, no matter what arguments you bring to him, right?"
The Prince sighed. "I know," he said quietly. "I just wish he had let me give them when they might have mattered."
While personally Elias thought the Prince would have been more of a hindrance than a help in those meetings, he couldn't deny he sympathized with the Prince's frustration.
"It is never easy to be kept out of a decision that you feel strongly about," he said diplomatically. "But learning to deal with that, too, is a useful skill to learn."
"Useful skill for a king, you mean?"
"A useful skill for anybody."
The Prince pressed his lips together, but after a moment he nodded. "Right."
Elias waited for another minute, and when he judged the Prince wasn't about to say anything else, said, "It's getting late, and I still have some work to do before I can sleep."
"Oh. Right." The Prince stood and, a moment later, Elias followed.
If either one of them had ever thought it strange for a scholar to tell a prince when their meeting was finished, it had been so long ago that it no longer so much as flickered through their minds. They stood in front of each other, the Prince hesitating slightly while Elias patiently waited.
"Thanks, Elias," the Prince said finally. He flashed Elias a small smile. "For the tutoring and for listening to my ramblings."
"You're welcome, Highness."
The Prince opened his mouth but Elias, as usual, cut him off before he could reprimand him for the formal appellation. "Goodnight, Highness."
The Prince stared at him for a moment, and Elias once again had the feeling he wanted to say something.
"Goodnight, Elias," was all that came out, however.
Elias took his leave.
Chapter 3
The Great Library of the Castle of White was nothing less than an architectural marvel. Built shortly after the founding of the kingdom, it was a large, cavernous hearth of knowledge from a time where learning was valued above all else. Tall, vaulted ceilings, large marble columns, rich mahogany desks and smooth, polished white marble floors inlayed occasionally with colored tile depicting famous scenes from throughout the kingdom's history—such as the Crowning of the First King, the Forging of the Trowel of Infamy, the First (and Last) Running of The Minotaurs, and the Founding (and also, close by, the Renaming) of the Society of the Supremacy of White—made up the front half of the library. The entire back half, from the middle of the Head Librarian's desk all the way to the far wall, was taken up with four floors of twelve foot high stacks containing every book, text, essay, and treatise ever written in Ellington, and a fair number from outside the kingdom as well. It was said, if one couldn't find the knowledge they sought in the Great Library of the White Kingdom, then it was most likely lost to the ages.
It was also, for the first time in over a week, blissfully silent.
A fact which soothed Elias's soul.
It had taken five days, four days longer than it should have, for the Head Librarian to have Dunbar fix the mess he made of the book. When Elias finally got it back, it had only taken ten minutes of revision before he realized that he had accidentally incorporated some of Dunbar's more subtle ruination into his meticulously written, and recently reorganized, notes. It had taken him days to sift through them and check them all against the new, de-vandalized book. Then, when he had purged his notes and was finally done with his paper, when he thought that he would finally be able to move forward and start preliminary research for his next book—which he should have been able to get to a week ago—the Head Librarian decided to take the afternoon off. And of course Elias was the only person available he trusted to fill in for him.
Not that his job actually consists of doing anything other than yelling at people to be quiet.
It was an annoyance, but ultimately a minor one now that he could concentrate on his reading. Which was much easier since the gossiping hordes had finally abandoned their breathless quest to devour every scrap of written information on their Champion. They now had a new target of their bored, noblesse obsession.
The Dark Prince had arrived.
Thankfully, Elias had been spared most of the hysteria over his arrival by dint of spending almost all his time in the library. Occasionally, he would be walking through the castle halls and overhear some bit of furiously whispered speculation or a retelling of someone else's encounter with the Prince, but he barely registered what was being said before he slipped back into his own thoughts. Aside from a few more complaints from the Crown Prince about not being allowed to talk to the Dark Prince without his father or an army of advisers present to make sure he didn't inadvertently start a war, Elias's prediction about the royal guest's lack of impact on his life was happily coming true.
All in all, Elias's life was currently, for the most part, in balance.
"I'm looking for a book."
Elias blinked, the only outward sign he was startled. Hadn't he been alone just a minute ago? Usually the marble floor and the tall, open ceiling made it impossible for someone to walk without generating distracting echoes. He hadn't thought the book he was reading was so engrossing he would block out the outside world, but it was interesting enough that he resented the interruption. Reluctantly, he placed one of his fingers on the line he was reading and glanced up.
Despite being tall enough to casually rest his arms on the edge of the high librarian's desk, the man standing in front of Elias looked barely old enough to qualify for the descriptor. His face was youthful and unlined, with a paleness that made his dark blue eyes and pitch black hair almost artistically pronounced, and a symmetry that seemed almost unnatural, with full lips and a perfectly straight nose, which just ever so slightly pushed his handsomeness over the line into beauty. His hair was barely long enough not to be considered short, and parted slightly off-center so that the tips fell to the sides of his eyes, drawing attention to them. He wore an obviously expensive, black court robe cut scholar style—taken in slightly at the waist and with the sleeves ending three inches above the wrist—albeit much less complicated than the robes Elias wore, with no convoluted inner robe to cover his tunic. The aforementioned equally expensive and identically colored tunic he wore was expe
rtly tailored, with small bits of delicate, white stitching sewn into swirling patterns on his chest and the high, open-fronted collar that hugged his neck, drawing the eye to those parts of his body. A body that was slim, yet still somehow powerful. He wasn't overly muscular, the flattering clothing would have been cut differently if he had bulging musculature to display, but despite that he managed to project the air of a sleek, strong jungle cat.
Elias was distinctly unimpressed.
"There are several to choose from," he said flatly, looking at the man over his glasses and making a subtle gesture with his free hand to the wealth of stacks behind him.
The noble, for surely someone wearing such immoderate and broodingly conceited clothing couldn't be anything but, smirked.
"Ah, but I'm looking for a specific one," he said.
His voice was educated and cultured, but not overly so, the way it would be if it were an affectation instead of something he grew up with, laced with a drawling, High Ellingish accent. Upper nobility, then. The son of a duke, most likely.
"I don't know the title, only that it's by a Hubert North. He is apparently quite prolific, so it will probably take you a while to find it, but I can tell you what it's about—"
"No."
"—to narrow your… I'm sorry?" The nobleman cocked his head to the side and looked genuinely confused.
Idly, Elias wondered if this was the first time he had ever heard the word.
"No," Elias repeated calmly. "I will not be finding any books for you."
The confusion was quickly replaced by cold, narrowed eyes.
Ah. So he has heard it before, just not in relation to him.
"Would you care to repeat that?" he asked, his voice deliberate and threatening.
Elias met his glare evenly. "Since I've already repeated myself twice, I see little point in doing so for a third time."
For a moment, the man's eyes darkened so much they almost looked purple. "Are rude librarians a custom here that I'm unaware of?"
Elias had never really taken to etiquette training. Showing deference to someone who hadn't earned it simply because they had a title in their name was one of the pointless things he found he couldn't care less about. Instead of obeisance, he based his interactions with nobles on exactly the same thing he based most of his social interactions on—getting them to go away. So where etiquette would tell him to bow and apologize, and where Elias might get more personal satisfaction out of ignoring him and going back to his book, experience told him this kind of noble wouldn't go away until he got to scream and throw his weight around. A reaction Elias was, perhaps unsurprisingly, adept at provoking.
"That is entirely possible," Elias said. He waited until the noble opened his mouth to speak before continuing. "However, since I am not, in fact, a librarian, I fail to see how that matters in this situation."
The man continued to glare. "Is this not the librarian's desk?"
"Yes. It is."
"And you are not a librarian?"
"No. I'm not."
He raised an eyebrow at this. "I was under the impression that the Great Library always had a trained librarian on duty at any time, day or night."
Since that wasn't technically a question, Elias waited patiently until he asked one.
"Was I wrong?" he asked, irritation tinting his voice.
"No. But he needed to leave and I'm minding the desk until he returns."
"Well then," he said, "since you're minding it while he's out and unable to perform his duties, doesn't that also imply you're supposed to fulfill them until he returns?"
"No. It doesn't," Elias said simply.
The man's eyes narrowed in frustration and once again Elias waited until he opened his mouth to go on.
"And even if it did, the duties of a Head Librarian, which is who I'm filling in for, do not include being someone's directory. However, since you have a specific book you're looking for, there is a card catalog conveniently located several yards to your left. Every book in the library is filed there alphabetically by author. On each card there is a number you can use to find the location of the book which corresponds to that card. If you do not know how to use the decimal system, there is an engraving posted next to the catalog with clear and concise instructions written in a font large enough for both small children and the elderly to read and understand. Since you appear to be neither, you should have little trouble puzzling it out."
As soon as he finished, Elias admitted to himself that he might have gotten slightly carried away. He hadn't meant to overtly insult the man, and his last sentence could easily be interpreted that way. It was just that, normally, in similar situations nobles would already be yelling at him and halfway to stomping away to "inform his superior", which just so happened to be the Head Librarian; a man who cared almost as little as Elias for societal niceties and who was like a king unto himself within the walls of the library. Instead of doing so, however, this noble just asked questions and glared. A glare which was now positively glacial, though also stained with an undercurrent of confusion. Elias had the distinct impression no one had ever spoken to him this disrespectfully before.
Wonderful. He's probably going to ask me if I know who he is now…
"Do you have any idea who I am?"
Instead of saying it with haughty indignation, as Elias would have expected, he actually sounded genuinely curious. Elias took a moment to study him again. Briefly.
Never let it be said that he ever answered a question without doing the appropriate research.
"No."
That seemed to bother the man more than the insult.
Finally. Elias braced himself to endure the tirade he had been waiting for.
Once again, his expectations were thwarted.
All at once the man's features, which had grown tense, suddenly smoothed out. Rather than the flush of anger or the sneer Elias had thought to see, the man leaned forward almost casually on the desk, bringing his face as close to Elias's as he could.
"Then it appears introductions are in order," he said, his lips pulling into a slow, almost sensual smirk. "You may call me the Dark Prince."
It wasn't often that Elias found himself completely taken by surprise.
It was even less often that he reacted with anything more than raised eyebrows, furrowed brows or, on one particular occasion involving Dunbar and a bucket of water, a strained yelp. Although that last was a particularly unique situation.
This situation was, it appeared, also unique.
"You're the Dark Prince?" Elias sputtered.
"Not what you were expecting?"
His tone never changed, but the smirk, which had been spreading across his lips incrementally, had suddenly froze. It seemed the Prince was as surprised by Elias's reaction as Elias was.
"I wasn't expecting anything," Elias said. He'd gotten himself under control almost immediately. Externally, at least. "I never even knew you existed until recently and I've barely spared you a second thought since."
"Your reaction says differently, librarian." A small glimmer of amusement shone in his eyes. The Prince obviously thought he had the upper hand in the conversation now.
A notion Elias found himself eager to refute.
"I am not a librarian, as I have already said, and my reaction is perfectly appropriate. I know next to nothing about you or where you come from. What I do know is little more than gossip and superstition which would lead me to, upon first learning the Dark King has a son, assume said child would be the physical incarnation of pure evil. If I had bothered to devote any of my time after making such an assumption to wondering about the Dark Prince I would have realized, almost immediately, that basing a mental image of a person's appearance off of what amounts to the tales of fishwives is ignorant, and I would have banished that mental image from my mind. Since I did not, in fact, waste my time thinking about what you might look like, it is perfectly acceptable for me to be surprised when, instead of a giant monster with flaming eyes and the st
ench of brimstone following him like a cloud of doom, I find the Dark Prince to be a vainglorious, porcelain doll who barely looks old enough to be allowed out of doors without a nursemaid following his every step."
Elias felt unusually satisfied when the Dark Prince's eyes narrowed dangerously once again.
"You aren't the least bit afraid of me."
It wasn't a question, but Elias decided to answer anyway.
"I see nothing to be afraid of."
"Of course you don't," the Prince said, his voice slow and even, yet filled with an odd quality which brought to mind the image of a python stalking its prey through tall grass. "The most dangerous things are usually the ones no one ever sees coming until it's too late."
The Dark Prince started circling the round desk sedately, two fingers of one hand trailing along the curved edge as he moved.
"You admit your ignorance of who I am and where I come from as if that somehow will shield you. As if your fishwives' tales have to be wrong because they are too gruesome, instead of too tame. As if you have no reason to be afraid because you can't think of one."
Elias turned to follow the Prince as he made his way around the circular desk to the opening behind it.
"But you should be afraid, false-librarian."
He slowly stepped up onto the raised platform, his fingers caressing the edge of the desk until they reached the end, then fell gracefully to his side. Now that he was standing before Elias, he could see that the Prince's breeches and boots were just as black as the rest of his attire.
"Your ignorance should terrify you. You have no idea what being the Dark Prince truly means, and yet here you are, completely alone with him. And while I'll admit I did promise my father I wouldn't kill anybody during my visit, there are many, many things one person can do to another which leave both of them perfectly alive at the end."
The Prince stalked Elias slowly, stopping in front of him, so close there was barely a finger's length of space between them. Elias had been right, he was tall, at least a full head taller than Elias's own somewhat below average height. Up this close, Elias was unable to ignore the differences between their builds as well. The Dark Prince may have been sleek, but Elias was skinny almost to the point of malnourishment, the legacy of a life of meals skipped in favor of studying, until he passed out, into whatever book he was engrossed in. He would have little chance of defending himself, if it came down to an altercation.
