Ink & Incantation Read online

  “Why do they have metal in the spines anyway? What’s the point?”

  “A lot of this collection is old. When the Archives opened this wing, we had thousands of donations from family libraries.” He shrugged and gave a small smile. “I guess the Arkwrights who possess the gift like to be able to float their books down from the top shelves.”

  She laughed. “Are you serious? How often does this happen?”

  He picked up a book, wiped its spine, and set it in a neat stack to his left. “Not often. Never since I’ve been here.”

  She squinted at him, “You were so calm. It was almost like you knew it would happen…”

  “You saw the head page who works in this section,” he said and trailed off.

  “You noticed me?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I noticed you.”

  They spent the next hour and a half wiping book spines and talking. She didn’t mind helping. Not really.

  She had nowhere else to be, and as she studied him, she noticed he was just her type—warm hazel eyes and a smile that made her want to do anything he asked.

  * * *

  Enora finally met Peter.

  She was in the middle of her third tea party with Lady Sylvia Rockwell and her mother when the prodigal son finally appeared.

  Drat. Despite her best efforts to be subtly off-putting, she had somehow passed muster with Lady Rockwell. What a shame.

  Peter was good-looking, objectively speaking, though not her type at all. He was muscular, thick-jawed, and inexpressive. His facial features were chiseled and bold. His body appeared to be hewn from stone as if he had never missed a day at the gym.

  She rose and curtsied, giving him a slight smile.

  He inclined his head toward her but said nothing.

  “Why don’t you take Enora for a tour of our gardens?” Lady Rockwell said pointedly.

  Peter nodded. “Sure. Yeah.” He didn’t pull out Enora’s chair for her, and that was fine. She didn’t need anyone to do so.

  She followed behind him as he led her toward the glass doors and out into the yard. Once they were out of earshot of their mothers, she said, “I’m Enora.”

  “Peter,” he rumbled in a low voice.

  How unbelievable! Even his voice sounded strong but boring. So boring. She hoped his intellect wasn’t this glacial too.

  Decorum dictated that Peter be the first to introduce a topic, so she waited as they drifted into the gardens. And waited some more.

  Finally, she interjected, “So, your mother tells me you enjoy reading?”

  He furrowed his thick eyebrows. “Reading?”

  “I believe she mentioned military history,” she prompted. Come on, she thought, please give me something to work with.

  He opened up to the topic of military history and spent the next twenty minutes talking slowly and relentlessly about various interplanetary sieges over the centuries.

  When they reached a new section of the garden, she tried to change the subject. “These roses are lovely. I’ve never seen any quite this large. I especially like the ones with the striated white and red petals. They look like a home cultivar.”

  “Mmm,” he grunted in reply.

  “Does your mother garden?” she asked, hoping a more direct question would be helpful.

  “Yes. Often.”

  She let the subject drop, and after a few minutes, he returned to the topic of military history. She let her mind drift to the beautiful flowers around her. Perhaps, she would take up gardening when she was married. Someday, long from now, of course. When she met a man she actually wanted to marry.

  Peter brought her back in a different door and asked her to wait. “I want to get you something,” he said.

  She nodded, and he disappeared in the direction of the gardens.

  Suddenly, she wondered if she had been wrong about Peter. Maybe he had gone to cut a rose for her. Maybe he had noticed how much she loved flowers.

  A small smile crossed her lips.

  Behind his dull exterior could beat the heart of a romantic. The sort of man that didn’t say much with his words but rather his actions.

  Enora knew she was far from perfect. She was stubborn, independent, and too quick to judge. She’d often been told she was too opinionated. Perhaps, she had been too hasty.

  Peter returned and handed her a physical book. She flipped it over curiously and read the title, Bellaton’s Greatest Battles. It was an old military history book. Since it was print and leather-bound, she supposed it was valuable.

  With a broad, dull smile, he said, “I look forward to discussing it with you next time.”

  Her heart plummeted as she thanked him. She would have been happier with a single rose from the garden. Was this her future? Dull conversation and bad gifts?

  By the time, he returned her to tea, she was dejected.

  On their way home, her mother gave her a harsh look. “Don’t make that face, Enora. You’ve only just met. With time, I’m sure you will learn to love him.”

  How could anyone love a rock?

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Enora was still moping over the terrible meeting with Peter. She couldn’t marry him. She wouldn’t! There had to be a way out of this, if only she could think of it.

  What did her parents admire most? Wealth, status, propriety. She had to find something that would fulfill those expectations. Of course, the simplest solution was to find an alternative match. He’d have to be of equal, if not higher, social standing.

  That wouldn’t be easy. Like her, Peter was born into one of the seven ruling families and an advantageous one too. While her family specialized in finance, his family specialized in military. To her parents, this was the perfect match— power and money.

  If she couldn’t present them with an alternative match, could she at least postpone the marriage? Was there any internship or fellowship that would be prestigious enough to convince them to delay this wedding disaster?

  Just then, her mother popped her head into the room. “Enora, darling, I’m off to the club,” she called merrily. “Try to do something productive while I’m gone.”

  Enora groaned.

  As the skylift doors closed behind her mother, Enora realized all she wanted was to leave too. And why shouldn’t she? Since they were staying in the capitol this weekend, her mother would be out for the entire day. She’d probably have drinks too.

  In a flash of inspiration, Enora changed out of her housecoat and into her favorite cream-colored tulle skirt and a matching shirt. Even though it was springtime, it was still cool in the capitol, so she topped it off with a muted denim jacket. The pale color palette complemented her dark auburn hair.

  Not that her mother would agree. She would have never let Enora leave in this outfit. She believed tulle was meant as an underskirt only. “The material is far too raw to be worn as a separate,” she had declared.

  Enora grinned and, in her final act of rebellion, slipped on a pair of canvas sneakers. They’d be far easier to walk in.

  Without much thought, her defiant footwear led her straight back to the Archives. This time, she used the correct entrance.

  To her surprise, the same doorman greeted her.

  “Do you work all of the entrances?” she asked.

  “Only three— The Jacobses, the Rockwells, and the Arkwrights. I get a notification whenever someone approaches. Then, I take one of the zip-ports over. Voila!”

  As she wandered the Archives, she was willing to admit to herself that she was hoping to bump into Castien again. Her first stop was the Arkwright Wing. All was calm today. No signs of book tornadoes or the cute page.

  Just as she was about to give up, she spotted him at a desk covered in papers and books. He was wearing round glasses and focused on an open book in front of him. “Take note,” he muttered. “Demagnetization must be performed monthly. An Arkwright must be present. Senior level pages only.”

  Despite all the archaic paper surrounding him, he
was using smart glasses to record his notes. She nodded approvingly. Good, he wasn’t a total Luddite. Though, she’d take a well-read Luddite over a well-bred rock any day. Not that anyone would give her the choice. She sighed out loud.

  Castien’s head whipped up. When he saw her, a grin spread across his face. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. Do you want to sit?”

  He was so straightforward. It was a welcome respite from her mandatory social engagements where pleasantries and formalities were required for even the smallest interaction. From all available evidence, Castien was an open book.

  She accepted his invitation and joined him at the table. “So, what are you working on? I thought you’d be busy saving the library from imploding,” she teased.

  He grinned. “I’ve got that scheduled for later. Right now, I’m on break.”

  She raised an eyebrow at the papers and books surrounding him. “This doesn’t look like casual reading.”

  “It’s not,” he admitted. “I’m going to take the Preservation Squad exam.”

  “What’s the Preservation Squad?”

  “It’s the highest clearance you can get in the library.”

  She interrupted. “Wait a minute. There are library employees with security clearances?”

  He gave her a charming grin. “Knowledge is power.”

  It was adorable but also incredibly dorky. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes and waited for him to continue.

  “Anyway, it’s all there in the title. The Preservation Squad helps preserve the Archives and their works.” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “They have access to the restricted sections and handle the most ancient and valuable books.”

  “Hmm,” she said noncommittally.

  “You think it sounds boring,” he accused.

  “Well…” she admitted.

  “Let me guess, you’re one of those nouveaus who think everything should be digital.”

  She frowned. “It’s only logical. How much is the upkeep for this facility, the staff, the tech, and the books themselves? Is it truly a worthy investment?”

  He chuckled. “So, you’re a Jacobs.”

  She stuck out her chin. “So what if I am?”

  “So nothing. I’ve already told you I’m an outsider. I’m not interested in the royal families or their rivalries. However, I am interested in the Archives which is self-sustaining through donations and subscriptions.”

  “Really? There are that many people who want to come here?”

  “Of course! Look around. Don’t you think it’s amazing?”

  “Not really.” She winced after she said the words. This was the sort of disagreeable behavior that her parents would never tolerate. They often said she was too opinionated.

  Castien didn’t seem to mind though. Instead, he seemed determined to persuade her. “Come on. There must be something you’ll love. Where have you been so far?”

  “Just the Rockwell entrance”—he raised an eyebrow— “a mistake,” she added quickly. “And the Arkwright Wing. Then, the Jacobs entrance to leave.”

  He laughed. “No wonder. You haven’t seen anything yet!” He shuffled his papers and books into a neat stack; then stood. “Come along, Miss Jacobs. There’s a whole world out there to explore.” He grinned and offered her a hand up.

  She accepted it.

  “So,” he asked. “What are you into? Advanced mathematics? Music? Botany? 18th-century literature of the Northern Province? Trashy romance novels?”

  “There’s nothing trashy about reading something you enjoy.”

  He nodded solemnly. “True enough. The romance section then?”

  She laughed. “No. I’d say advanced mathematics, but then I’d just think about internships. So, maybe botany?” She was still thinking about the rose garden at the Rockwell’s home.

  “Botany, it is. Wait until you see the Fleur Family Reading Room.”

  She left her work behind and followed him for two city blocks. The entrance was marked with wooden columns, and vines trailed up both sides, framing the words “Fleur Family Reading Room.”

  She followed him inside.

  If elves and fairies were real, she felt certain their learned scholars would walk among these shelves. The sunlight-drenched room was expansive, round, and several stories tall. The walls were wooden and lined with thousands of books. Plants poured out of earthen window boxes and trailed along walls and shelves.

  In the center of the room stood the most magnificent grove of trees she had ever seen. Their branches reached up, full of shimmering leaves, to form a gateway. It was just wide enough that visitors could easily pass from one side of the room to the other.

  Castien gave her a knowing smile. “So, what do you think?”

  “It’s breathtaking,” she said with reverence.

  “Come on,” he said tugging her into the room. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  He took her to the third floor, and they looked down at the tree grove below. From up here, the leaves looked silver and golden in the dappling sunlight. Small insects with iridescent wings took flight, casting rainbows.

  Hidden off to the side, she noticed a large bin of books in various states of disrepair. Many had damaged bindings. Others had ripped pages. A few had what appeared to be mold growing inside them.

  “What happens to these?” she asked, pointing toward the books in the bin.

  “The Preservation Squad will handle them. They go straight to the paperie where they will be sorted for salvage or recycle.” He paused. “If you want to explore for a bit, I should actually go through the shelves and add to the bin.”

  She’d almost forgotten. Castien was supposed to be working. He couldn’t just entertain her all day. She gave him a bright smile. “Of course. Thank you for bringing me here. You were right about this place,” she said.

  He tilted his head back in faux ecstasy. “Ah, a girl telling me I’m right, music to my ears!”

  She wrinkled her nose and swatted him gently. “Can you point me toward books about cultivating roses?”

  “There’s an entire section on the second level. Check the 230s.” He glanced at her one more time and gave her a small, steady smile. “And don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?”

  Without meaning to, she felt another smile pull at the corner of her lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She wandered the shelves for ages, napped in a small nook filled with ferns, and finally decided to check out a book on identifying rare rose species.

  Then, she went to find Castien. He was still hard at work, and she offered to help. Together, they worked their way up and down the shelves, rescuing books ensnared by nasty vines and pulling others for the preservation bin. Some were disintegrating from age. The worst had begun to ooze a mysterious green slime.

  They talked and laughed, and it made the work fun. Being with Castien was easy.

  He glanced up at an old wooden clockface and said, “You know, I’m off in half an hour. Can I buy you dinner?”

  Her eyes bulged. “Dinner? Already?”

  He gave her an uneasy smile. “I mean it is nearly seven o’clock, but it’s okay if you don’t want—”

  “I’d love to, really,” she assured him. “But I have to go. My mom will, well, let’s just say, she’ll be expecting me.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. Did he really understand? She wasn’t rejecting him. She just had to go. Unsure what else to say, she started to leave.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She turned around.

  “Before you go, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

  She allowed her dark eyelashes to flutter shut. Her heart quickened in anticipation. Then, to her surprise, she heard a flurry of paper and felt something being pressed into the palm of her hand.

  “You can open your eyes,” he said.

  She did. In her hand was an origami flower, made from the fol
ded pages of an old book with long-faded ink.

  It was a rose. A perfect paper rose.

  Castien smiled down at her. “Thanks for helping me today. You’d better hurry if you want to make it home for dinner.”

  Enora felt light and happy. After her marriage meeting with Peter, her heart had begun to freeze, but with this one gesture from Castien, she felt the ice melt away. She looked down at the paper rose. Castien already understood her better than Peter ever would. Her heart bloomed, and it was summer once more.

  She didn’t want to leave with him feeling uncertain. Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay?” he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

  She gave him a doe-eyed look and waved goodbye.

  * * *

  Enora wanted to return to the Archives, but it was difficult to get away.

  As her graduation approached, her parents filled her time with exam preparation, mandatory social engagements, and, of course, time with her not-so-beloved, Peter. Her schedule was as boring as it was full.

  By comparison, her time at the Archives felt like a daydream— a clever boy, a tornado of flying books, and a sun-drenched reading wonderland.

  She liked Castien. He was cute, straightforward, and ambitious. It was too bad her family would never approve of the match. In fact, they’d be furious if they found out she was spending time with a library page.

  Yesterday, she had tried to slip away unnoticed and been caught. Her mother had been standing in front of her dressing mirror, preparing for an evening out. The timing seemed perfect.

  Enora had slipped into the hallway when her mother called out, “And where do you think you’re going?”

  “To the Bellatonian Archives,” she answered.

  “There is absolutely no reason to go all the way to the capitol to do schoolwork. You have every resource available to you right here! You have an infotab to pull up recordings and documents. All you have to do is search.

  “It is beginning to seem like you’re just trying to get away from me.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Enora, I know you’re not happy about the match, but this is just the way of the world.