Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (35 page)

Gib stood outside the library doors for what seemed like an eternity. He felt a fool for hesitating, but he couldn’t shake the worry of knowing too much. If he were to find the book Diddy had suggested, would there be any going back? What if he couldn’t keep whatever secrets the book revealed? On the other hand, if he never learned the truth, he might risk failing Diddy or the royal family at a crucial moment. Sighing, he pulled the door open.

The aroma of incense welcomed him into the cozy space. Unlike the rest of Academy, the library was often so quiet that the soft glow of mage orbs could lull an unsuspecting student off to slumber if they weren’t careful.
Gib looked first right and then left, taking in the endless rows of books stacked to the ceiling twice his height. He had no idea where to even start. Weighing his options, he decided he’d have to go to the desk and ask for help, lest he be there all night trying to find this book.

The counter stood in the middle of the room, directly in front of the doors. He couldn’t see anyone there but stepped up to the desk anyway. The attendants were never very far away.

Hushed whispers bounced off the walls around him as he waited, but Gib paid the voices little mind. He was entirely focused on remembering the name of the text and finding a secluded spot to sit. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would be able to find an available seat next to one of the windows. At least that way he’d be able to keep track of the time.

“Gibben Nemesio?”

Gib startled at his full name and was surprised when he turned to look up at Kezra’s elder brother, Zandi. He looked sharp in his mage robes, and his emerald eyes glimmered along with his smile. Gib inclined his head by way of greeting. The last time they’d crossed paths, Gib had been terribly rude. He couldn’t imagine why the other man was offering anything more than a cold shoulder now.

“What brings you here?” Zandi asked. “I would have thought a councilor understudy such as yourself would have meeting notes to pour over. Or did one of your Academy professors assign you research?” Zandi made conversation easily enough while he rummaged through sheets of parchment paper on the unattended desk. The gentle lilt in his voice was almost hypnotic.

Gib had to focus to respond.
“Independent research. I have to find a book.”

Zandi found the piece of parchment he must have been looking for and began to scribble onto it with a quill. “Oh, you’ll have to ask Syther about that. Unless it’s magic studies, I have no idea where anything is in here.”

Syther? Syther Lais? Joel’s original roommate and first love? Gib’s stomach went sour even as he caught sight of the librarian.
Now I remember why I try to avoid coming to the library
.

Syther and Joel had parted ways—rather unpleasantly—the season before Gib came to Silver, but Gib knew who the other man was, and the two of them had met several times over the past few years—their encounters never seeming to grow any less awkward.

Gib was greeted with an acidic scowl as the slight man slipped up behind the counter. He must have had a stool of some sort back there because, in reality, Syther was no taller than Gib. Yet from behind the counter, Syther loomed above them. His critical eyes swept up and then down, probably taking in every detail and noting any hair out of place or smudge on Gib’s tunic. As cold and lofty as ever, Syther finally sighed and spoke through his nose. “What do you want?”

Fumbling closer, Gib kept his voice low. “I’m looking for a book titled
Annals of the Unknown Peoples
. Do you know where I’d find it?”

Syther knit his brow in apparent confusion, and even Zandi seemed to hesitate as he scribbled. Gib felt his breath catch. It wasn’t a restricted book, was it? Surely Diddy would have known if it was.

The librarian recovered an instant later and pointed toward the right wing. “In the back, on the north wall. You’ll have to climb the ladder.”

Gib tried not to wince. “It’s up high?”

“Alphabetically arranged.” Syther smiled, but it felt more like a sneer, reminding Gib of the former Instructions Master and recordkeeper on the council, Diedrick Lyle.

Gib nodded and took a step back. He opened his mouth to offer a word of thanks, but Zandi cleared his throat then and pushed the quill and parchment toward Syther. “All right, the mage orbs along the front wall are fixed. There was a flow problem, but I’ve straightened it out now.”

Syther took the paper. “Thanks. It was manageable without the orbs functioning during the day, but night is fast approaching. The students would have been crying if they couldn’t read their texts.”

A moment’s hesitation gave way to quiet laughter. Zandi and Syther seemed to be privy to some joke Gib wasn’t aware of. Zandi took a step back and waved to the librarian. “I’ll see you around sometime.” Syther smiled, and as far as Gib could tell, the gesture seemed to be genuine. A moment later, Syther had promptly turned his back, ignoring Gib entirely.

Gib nearly snorted aloud.
Well, it’s nice to know some things will never change
.

“I’ll show you where it is,” Zandi offered in a quiet voice.

Gib blinked up at him. “Pardon?”

A smile broke across Zandi’s face as though Gib had said something funny. “The book. I know where it is. I suppose I could even give you a leg up onto the ladder if you need it.”

A short laugh burst from Gib’s throat before he could stop it. Zandi was joking with him? Was all forgiven then, despite Gib being so foul upon their last meeting? Some of the tension left his shoulders as he grinned back at the mage. “Or you could just reach up and grab it for me, no ladders needed.”

Zandi’s smile flicked a little higher onto his cheeks. “From the top shelf? Even I may need a step stool for that.” He laughed and swept off toward the north side of the library.

Gib raced to keep up, fully appreciating how tall Zandi was now that it took two of Gib’s strides to match one of the other man’s. As they approached the bookcase, Gib peered up. It still boggled his mind to think about how many books had to be crammed into this room.
Hundreds, at least. Many even thousands
.

Without hesitation, Zandi pulled a ladder over and braced it against the shelf. “I already see it up there. I remember the golden binding from when I was in my third year of Academy.” He paused long enough to steal a glance back at Gib and blushed when he was caught. “What sort of independent study are you doing anyway?”

Gib’s mind grounded to a halt while he fished for something to say. This secret-keeping nonsense was already proving to be a chore. “I’m not sure yet. A friend suggested the book.” He offered his best smile in hopes it would deter further investigation. “I don’t even know what it’s about yet.”

Zandi pulled the text from among the other books and made his way back down. His cheeks were rosy as he handed the book to Gib. “Really? Interesting read for a politician.”

“Is that so?” Gib glanced down. The image of a dragon wrapped around a gathering of different fantastical characters was etched into the cover with gold powder. Interesting. What could this possibly have to do with the royal family’s birthing records?

Zandi cleared his throat. “I would think you’d be more interested in histories and law studies. Do you plan to travel one day?”

Flipping open to the index, Gib shrugged and trotted over to a table near the window. “Not particularly. Why?” He ran his finger down the neat print and found a page number for section four.
The Demharlin
.

Zandi sat across from Gib, folding long arms over the table. “Well, Folk studies tend to be reserved for those who either intend to explore the wilds or trek to foreign lands. Or, on rare occasion, for those who mean to actually interact with the different peoples.”

Gib could feel the heavy stare but didn’t look up or respond. He couldn’t think of anything to say without possibly revealing too much.

Taking in an audible gulp of air, Zandi plunged on. “When I was still young and naïve, I entertained the idea of such adventures. I find Otherfolk interesting and think humanity should seek to preserve the other species who share our world.”

Gib’s eyebrow quirked on its own accord. “Most people I know aren’t interested in sharing the world.”

“You’ll make an odd politician. You don’t seem at all the type to wipe out entire races of people and then ask questions later.”

Though he
was
trying to read, Gib felt compelled to engage with the man who had so kindly offered to help him. “Well, being a politician was never my goal. I mean, really, I never had any intention to even leave my farm. If I hadn’t been drafted, I’d still be in Willowdale.”

Zandi smiled, but his eyes were wistful. “What was it like out there? Away from the city?”

“Quiet,” Gib chuckled. “My neighbor once had a chicken lay an egg that hatched two chicks. That was big news for a year.”

“That sounds wonderful. Here there’s always talk of new laws and old laws. You never know what may be acceptable today but not tomorrow. And if you’re caught in the wrong? You can be hauled away in shackles.”

“Willowdale sounds quaint at first, but it’s not perfect.
Nothing ever happens out there. It’s like a stagnant pond.” He glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Change doesn’t happen in the outreaches. If I were still on the farm, I’d be married now and probably already have fathered a baby or two—not because it would be what I wanted, but because it’s what’s expected.”

“Then perhaps Willowdale isn’t so different from Silver. If my father had his way, I’d be married as well.” The tremble on Zandi’s delicate jaw gave away his carefully disguised melancholy. “I don’t—I don’t wish to upset you as I did when last we met, but I have to tell you what an inspiration you are. Even if you and Joel Adelwijn aren’t lovers anymore, the fact that the two of you stood united and unashamed still gives hope to so many of us who wouldn’t dare.”

Gib had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. It still hurt to hear talk of him and Joel being done, but he was starting to be able to keep his head cool. When he’d collected himself, Gib let out a long sigh and replied, “We never meant to draw attention. We weren’t trying to set an example. We’re just people, like anyone else.”

“I know. That’s what made you both so perfect.” Zandi wiped an eye with the back of his sleeve. “I won’t press you any more. I know it must be hard to speak about such things. Just know you have supporters. There are people who still root for you.”

Gib shook his head, face feeling warm. “I didn’t mean to be so foul to you before, at the Rose Bouquet.” He winced. “Well, I mean, I did. But only because I was already hurt and in no mood to hear what anyone had to say. It wasn’t your fault—it was mine.”

“I know. Kezra has said too many good things about you for me to ever suspect any different. She’s not one to sugar-coat anything, so I know you’re a good person.”

“Not perfect though, and not a hero by any stretch of the word. I just want you to know that. If you’re going to have an opinion of me, I’d have it be a fair one. I’m sorry to kill your hero, but I’m not him. I’m only me. A humble farmer. Gib from Willowdale.”

Zandi smiled, still sad, but no longer looking forlorn. “Gibben Nemesio from Willowdale—a good man and a fool.” He chuckled. “Kezra’s right about you.”

Gib laughed at what Zandi had to say for the second time today. “Fool? I suppose that sounds exactly like something she’d say about me.”

“You should hear what she says about me. ‘Fool’ is nothing—a badge of honor even!”

Smiles were shared as they lapsed into comfortable silence. Gib refocused on the text before him, trying to make sense of why Diddy had suggested it in the first place. His confusion must have been apparent for, after a short time, Zandi took pity on him and leaned across the table. “Which Folk are you basing your ‘independent study’ on?”

“Uh... Demharlins?” Gib flipped the page back and forth, taking in the text on either side.

Zandi pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to hide the smile playing on his lips. “Demharlin. The word is both plural and singular. What did you need to know about them?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Gib sighed. “I’m not sure, really. As I said, a friend suggested I study up on them.”

“Huh. I see.” Zandi’s mouth slanted down, but even the frown was handsome on his dark, heart-shaped face. “They’re indigenous to our mountains, you know. There are several documented clans throughout the Pinnacles.”