“Me? Plot?” Liesa batted her lashes and rolled off the bed. “Fine. But you’d better keep your promise. Every week! Even if you think it’s boring, I want to hear everything!”
“You may regret that,” Ellie said with a shrug, “but very well. Even if it’s boring.”
She would never admit it to anyone, but even though she knew and looked forward to what her chosen life was likely to bring, she also harbored the absurd hope that it would hold a little something more.
Something unexpected. Something magical.
Well, not actually magical, obviously. She would think herself fortunate if she never experienced magic again as long as she lived. But something extraordinary. No matter how prosaic and practical her studies had made her, Elisette still longed for adventure almost as much as Liesa.
And if adventure never came her way, she would settle for something far less romantic and yet just as improbable—a friend.
Rolling her eyes at her own ridiculous fantasies, Ellie finished with her bags and returned to her book, cheering herself with the reminder that even though a female library apprentice was unlikely to find any friends, she was also unlikely to find any toast.
Chapter 2
Elisette looked up—way up—at the imposing building that housed the Lord Everton Collection of Literary and Scholarly Works of the Known World (Open and Free to the Public on All Days Except National Holidays, Children and Dogs Prohibited). Otherwise known as the Anuran Library.
It was not exactly what she’d expected. All through the long days of travel between her home in Astoria and the neatly cobbled streets of Ranidane, she’d wondered. What would it look like? How would she feel to finally have a chance to read all those books? And would she be able to read them, or would her mistress, Lady Caro, insist that her apprentices were only there to learn how to sort the books and should leave the studies to the scholars?
On the first question, at least, she could now be satisfied. The building had clearly not been designed as a library. Rather, it had once been a home—granted, an enormous and imposing one—with all the architectural flourishes common amongst the continent’s nobility about a hundred years ago.
If she was disappointed, however, it was best not to show it. Squaring her shoulders, Ellie strode up the walk with what she hoped looked like confidence and pushed open the enormous door with a firm hand.
It looked heavy. Wide and ornately carved, the door clearly required a great deal of strength to open—or so Ellie assumed. Sadly, it was perfectly balanced on well-oiled hinges, and her forceful push was enough to send it flying open with an appalling crash.
Her first glimpse of the inside of the library featured mostly stunned expressions of censure and outrage.
“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to restrain your volume.” A middle-aged man in a neatly pressed brown robe strode towards the door, his face a picture of cool disdain. “This is a library, not a tavern.”
Elisette bit back a retort and hoped her face wasn’t nearly as red as it felt. “I beg your pardon,” she said softly, dropping a brief curtsey. “The door wasn’t as heavy as I presumed and it slipped from my grasp. It won’t happen again.”
The man’s expression grew bored, and he appeared to focus his attention somewhere in the air over Ellie’s head. “Look, I have a lot to do. If you’re hoping for a handout, go elsewhere. This isn’t a school, so we won’t teach you to read. If you need directions, there’s a public house on the corner, and we most definitely do not allow vagrants to use our necessary facilities.”
Ellie’s embarrassment vanished into a deep well of anger. How dare he dismiss her like that? Maybe her dress wasn’t as clean and well pressed as his robe, and maybe she was a little mussed from traveling, but she hardly looked like a vagrant. And to assume she couldn’t read?
“Sir, I have just arrived after a long journey from the kingdom of Astoria, to accept a post as Librarian Apprentice. I assure you that my qualifications are sufficient and my recommendations are in order. If you would direct me to the appropriate person with whom I might discuss the particulars, I wish to take the position without delay.”
The man took another startled look at her and burst out laughing. Silently, of course. He was a librarian after all.
Elisette waited patiently as he went through all the usual stages of laughter—head thrown back, mouth open, then teeth closed, lips still smiling, chin dropped, eyes open, a few last quivers of hilarity, followed by confusion.
“Wait, you’re actually serious?”
“I’ve been told I’m rarely otherwise.”
“But you…”
“Yes, I’m a woman.”
“But we don’t have any female apprentices.”
“You do now,” Elisette replied resolutely, crossing her arms. “Am I to have an interview with Lady Caro or would you prefer I start work straight away?”
The man clearly did not appreciate her cheek. “Oh, you’ll have an interview all right, my girl. Lady Caro will not be amused by your effrontery, and you’ll find yourself tossed back on the street, if I’m any judge.”
He whirled on his heel and marched off through the library, giving Elisette a chance to roll her eyes at his retreating back before following. As they walked, she took advantage of the moment to glance around curiously at the place where she would soon be working—she hoped.
It was easy to tell that the building had once been a home, though every room appeared to have been converted to make way for shelf after shelf of books. In a few rooms, those shelves towered to the ceiling, several floors above the ground, while the intervening spaces were filled with tables and chairs for the use of scholars and casual readers alike. Even the hallways were lined with books, perfuming the air with their unique and glorious scent.
Ellie shivered with excitement.
The brown-robed man paused in front of a small door and knocked, lightly.
A cool voice sounded from inside the room. “Enter.”
Following closely behind her guide, Ellie entered the room, caught her first glimpse of her employer, and fought back a sudden attack of nerves.
Lady Caro was nowhere near so old as Ellie had led herself to believe. The woman seated behind an ornate desk was no more than thirty-five, and as she rose regally from her chair, Ellie could see that she was quite tall and impressively regal, with a statuesque figure and an extremely attractive face. Her dark hair was elaborately coiffed and her dress appeared to be both expensive and fashionable, though given that Anuran styles were no doubt somewhat different than Astorian, it was difficult to be sure.
“And who is this, Farrel?”
“This, my lady, claims to be your newest apprentice. The one that was due to arrive from Astoria.”
One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose and Lady Caro’s dark eyes assessed Elisette without giving much indication of her thoughts. “There must be a mistake,” she said calmly. “The application was made by a man. I believe the name was Eli.”
Elisette held out her letter of acceptance. “There was no mistake,” she said, ruthlessly suppressing the sudden quaver of anxiety in her voice. “My recommendations are in order, and I was entirely honest about my qualifications. If I shortened my name on my application, it was because I expected some degree of prejudice against female applicants, but it was not a lie. My real name is Elisette.”
The eyebrow remained raised. “You may go, Farrel.”
The man stiffened, but made no verbal protest, merely removed himself from the room in silence and haste. His prompt obedience did not make Elisette feel any better about her chances.
Lady Caro seemed to relax a trifle after his exit, and seated herself in her chair once more. “I hope you can understand, Miss Elisette, how this deception might not give the best first impression of a future employee.”
Ellie was tempted to bow her head, but resisted, instead straightening her shoulders and meeting Lady Caro’s eyes. “I do, my lady.”
“And yet y
ou attempted it anyway.”
“I was hoping that if I could present myself in person and plead my case, I might find a more willing and receptive audience in another woman than I have found in the male scholars of my acquaintance.”
“You thought I would accept you merely because I am a woman?” Lady Caro did not sound impressed.
“In truth, yes.” Ellie wasn’t going to apologize for her actions. “Even my own parents dismiss my ambitions and make light of my studies. They tell me that it’s impossible for a woman to become an apprentice, but this is my life’s goal. I am as well read as any man my age, and better than most. I’ve had to work harder for my knowledge because it was difficult to find anyone to teach me. All I’m asking for is a chance to prove that I can be as good or better at this job than anyone else, male or female.” She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I did hope that as a female, you would understand the difficulties facing other female scholars and be willing to offer me a chance.”
“Then why not put your real name on your application?”
“Because I could not be sure that you would review the applications yourself,” Ellie admitted. “It seemed worth the risk to gain an interview and plead my case.”
Lady Caro leaned back in her chair. “I can understand why you did so,” she allowed, “and even sympathize with your plight. But I cannot condone dishonesty, and most certainly not in a person with aspirations to scholarship.”
Ellie’s heart sank.
“If I am to grant you a position here, it would be on a trial basis only. And with the understanding that any further deception will be met with immediate dismissal.”
“I understand, Lady Caro.”
“I don’t know that you do,” the older woman said frankly. “I suspect to this point your studies have been completed largely on your own, or with private tutors. You have little concept of the world into which you aspire to step.”
“That’s true, Lady Caro, but I’m prepared to work hard.”
“But are you prepared to work twice as hard as your male counterparts? To endure their mockery, jealousy and attempts to undermine you?”
“I am, Lady Caro.” Ellie wasn’t about to give up now, no matter how hard the woman tried to dissuade her.
“Then I suppose I will grant you a trial,” Lady Caro said with a deep and heartfelt sigh. “But allow me to offer one final warning—this world is difficult enough for a woman. For a beautiful woman, it is far worse, and I know I don’t need to tell you that you are far more than merely beautiful.”
Ellie nodded jerkily.
“If I find that you are deliberately distracting or flirting with any of the other apprentices, you will be dismissed immediately.”
“I don’t do it on purpose,” Ellie snapped, outraged by the injustice, “and I can’t help it that men follow me around. I didn’t ask for this face and it’s absurd to blame me for its effect on people.”
“Did I say I blamed you?” Lady Caro asked archly. “Recall that I only forbade deliberate actions on your part. I am well able to deal with apprentices of either gender who cannot keep their eyes, hands or comments to themselves.”
Immeasurably relieved, Elisette dipped a respectful curtsey. “Thank you, Lady Caro. I appreciate your warning and I will strive to follow your instructions.”
“Hmm.” Her employer rose once more. “I will see you out, but I expect your presence at first light tomorrow. As indicated in your letter of acceptance, this apprenticeship does not include lodgings or meals, but as you are clearly a special case, allow me to recommend that you seek a room with an acquaintance of mine. Her name is Rilla, and she supports herself by offering clean, safe lodgings for young women who are unable to live at home.”
“Thank you,” Ellie said fervently. She had left her belongings at the nearest inn, but had not felt exactly comfortable about staying there.
“You will find her house on Mill Street, about ten minutes’ walk from here, across the market square. Gray stone, with purple petunias out front.”
Ellie thanked her again, and followed her new employer out through the library, choosing to ignore the curious and occasionally hostile stares of several brown-robed library employees—soon to be fellow employees.
It was hardly an encouraging beginning, and if her first impression was any indication, Ellie’s hopes of finding a friend would have to be satisfied somewhere other than the library.
Cambren, Prince of the Realm and third son of His Majesty, King Lorne of Anura, looked up from his book and resigned himself to the inevitable. He simply wasn’t going to get any more reading done until after the big announcement.
“You’re pacing like a bear on a chain,” he informed his brother mildly.
Eldrick brushed his dark hair away from his forehead and favored Cambren with a withering glare.
“You’d be pacing too if you weren’t so completely oblivious to everything that goes on outside of your own interests,” he snapped, then had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t.” Cambren shrugged off his brother’s heedless comment. Even if he hadn’t had a slightly twisted leg that made walking more of a trial than a matter of course, Cambren wasn’t the sort of person to pace. He preferred to let problems come in their own time. Eldrick was the sort to seek them out and then beat the tar out of them.
“Cam, what are you wearing?”
Cambren glanced up as their oldest brother entered the room.
Dauntry’s face was grave, a carefully crafted picture of disappointment, worn over his habitual expression of kingly dignity. His tone was weary, stern and slightly patronizing, as always. The oldest prince didn’t really try to be condescending, it just happened to come naturally, much like his dignified manner and wavy blond locks.
“Clothes?” Cambren suggested, glancing down at his attire. “Possibly linen? Cotton? I really have no idea. Is it important?”
“We’ve been called for an audience with Father. Of course it’s important. If we don’t show proper respect for the crown in our attire, how can we ask our people to do so?”
“I wasn’t aware my trousers were capable of disrespecting the crown,” Cambren murmured.
“Oh, leave him alone, Dauntry,” Eldrick grumbled. “You know Cam doesn’t care about kingdom affairs, and as heinous as his wardrobe might be, it’s not hurting anything but his marriage prospects.”
“But he should care,” Dauntry insisted. “It’s our privilege, as princes of the realm, to care for this kingdom and its people.”
“Wait”—Cambren looked up at Eldrick with mock solemnity—“what do my clothes have to do with my eligibility? Aren’t girls supposed to want to marry me just for my title?”
Eldrick shot him a contemptuous look. “Not as long as Prince Golden-hair the Magnificent remains single,” he said. “What girl would want a mere prince when she can have the heir to the throne?”
Even without Dauntry, what girl would want a prince who limped and often had hay in his hair and preferred horse barns to royal balls?
But Cambren kept his thoughts to himself because that was his job. As eldest, Dauntry was the dutiful, honorable, sacrificial one, whose highest aspiration was to immolate himself for Anura. As the second son, Eldrick was by turns caustic and charming, a reliable foil for the staid Dauntry and a particularly accomplished flirt. Where Dauntry was dull as a hammer, Eldrick was sharp as a sword point. Cambren was the buffer that kept them from finding out whether the sword or the hammer would be first to break.
Before any further words of brotherly encouragement could be uttered, the doors of the throne room swung wide and a uniformed steward emerged to stand rigidly in the doorway.
“You are summoned,” he intoned in a deep and sonorous voice, his lips drawn into a near-frown. “Look well to your souls and tremble as you enter to stand before your sovereign.”
Two princes’ jaws dropped, while the steward’s gaze
darted to Cambren, who winked and tapped his fist to his chest in approval.
“Some of your best work yet, Grim,” he assured the steward, who grinned and bowed theatrically before stepping aside.
Dauntry’s shoulders sagged and he dropped his forehead into his hand. “Cam, have you no sense of propriety?”
“On the contrary,” Eldrick replied. “He has an excellent sense of propriety, he’s simply a terrible judge of when to use it. Most of the time. In this case, however…” He offered Cambren a single raised eyebrow. “That was actually inspired.”
“Grim was bored,” Cambren said with a shrug. “So we came up with some fun new ways for him to greet petitioners.”
“You…” Dauntry turned an alarming shade of red. “He used that in front of petitioners? They’re going to think Father has lost his mind!”
“Don’t be daft if you can help it, big brother,” Eldrick drawled as he sauntered past on his way into the throne room. “Cam is yanking your chain and you’re letting him.”
Dauntry shot a single furious glance at Cam and followed Eldrick, leaving Cam to bring up the rear, as he always did.
He hadn’t necessarily intended to irritate his brother. Dauntry simply happened to find anyone with a sense of humor irritating. They got on well enough as long as Cambren kept his ideas and opinions to himself and never, ever made light of matters of state.
Which this meeting would probably turn out to be. Cam lifted his gaze to the throne at the far end of the long chamber and wondered which version of their father they would be facing today.
King Lorne was only just over sixty, but his hair and beard were already white. He’d often been lost in melancholy since the death of his wife, Queen Luna, nearly five years before. It wasn’t that his mind was gone—quite the contrary—he simply didn’t care about ruling as much as he once had.
He was tired, Cam often thought, and hoped his father would consider stepping down soon. Dauntry practically lived and breathed for the day he would take the crown, and the change might be good for both of them.
A Beautiful Curse Page 2
