The merry company bound for Mongalith consisted of Godfrey, the twins, Sir Alger White, Riley, herself, as well as half a dozen servants. Evelyn had backed out of the trip at the last moment, which was no surprise to anyone. Ever fickle was Evelyn.
Barclay and Lucian seldom spoke to her except to tease her, so Selena supposed her prime candidate for companionship—or, at least, conversation—was to be Riley, who, at seventeen, was the closest in age to Selena.
However, the lad had a penchant for moodiness. Some days he was the happy and kind playmate from their youth, but more and more often lately, Riley kept to himself. On rare occasions, he would listen as Barclay and Lucian prattled on about their oh-so impressive feats as Knights-in-training—and other cruder conquests—but Riley probably spent more time holed up in his bedroom than Selena did.
The four Nelesti children rode together in one of the three carriages. Selena might as well have been invisible for all that was said to her. The twins spent a great deal of the time rolling dice and drinking from flasks they had smuggled into the coach. Riley was all too happy to join in.
Selena politely refused when Lucian held his flask out to her, an impish grin on his face.
The worst part of the trip was their overnight stay in Goldenstave, which included a dinner with the gluttonous mayor. She endured Garrett Mills’ insipid conversation and wandering eyes with as much grace as she could muster, constantly reminding herself that her prize was in sight.
Tomorrow, they would reach Mongalith Fair!
* * *
The excitement she experienced upon their arrival to the bustling city of Mongalith dissipated with each passing day.
For one thing, she was more affected by the crowds than she had anticipated. At some events, she had no personal space whatsoever, and if it had not been for the bulbous dresses she was forced to wear, she might not have been allotted enough room to breathe.
Though the festival would last at least another week, it was the last day of Selena and her family’s attendance. They were to leave Mongalith first thing tomorrow morning, and while she almost missed the comforts and privacy of Castle Nelesti, she would not leave the city without doing what she had come to do.
But first, she needed to sneak away on her own.
Her father would have come with her, she was certain, except that Godfrey, as a guest of honor, was being pulled in so many different directions, setting out early in the morning and returning long after Selena had gone to bed. Every minor nobleman and well-to-do merchant wanted the Duke to dine at his table.
Selena might have asked the twins to accompany her that afternoon, but Barclay and Lucian would not have missed the jousting tournament for all of the silver in Torred. Riley was, well, Riley.
When the twins presented their obligatory invitation to join them at the joust, Selena feigned an illness. Poor Alger White was forced to stay behind as her chaperone. The old Knight checked on her twice in close succession but did not return soon after that.
Throwing caution to the wind, Selena leaped out of bed, hurriedly dressed herself in the most ordinary dress she owned and searched through Riley’s pack until she found a spare cloak he wore for inclement weather. The coat was not drab per se, though neither did it necessarily look like it belonged to an aristocrat. It was a bit big in the shoulders, but Selena was tall enough so as not to look completely ridiculous wearing it.
She used the servant corridors and made it out an egress behind the governor’s manse—where they had been staying, in lieu of roughing it at one of Mongalith’s first-rate inns—without being noticed. There was no sign of Old Alger at all.
Since she had no idea where she was going, she picked a random direction and walked until she was a safe enough distance from the manse. Then she looked around for a friendly face.
The first lady she spoke to was a visitor to Mongalith and did not know where books were sold. Probably, the woman did not even know how to read. Her second attempt yielded better results. The man wore expensive clothing and carried an ornate walking stick. If he was not a true noble, he was the next thing to it.
“There is a short street…more of an alley, really…that intersects Candlestick Lane, which is three blocks over that way.” The gentleman pointed south. “If you take a right on Candlestick and follow it for four or five blocks, you will find Scribe Street. There is only one way to go. I think the bookshop is among the last buildings on that avenue.”
Selena repeated the directions in her mind and soon found herself standing before a smallish building that resembled a store only because of an old, wooden sign suspended from a pole that sprouted up in front of the building. She squinted and could almost make out the painted outline of what must have been a book.
The dead end was empty except for her. She steeled her resolve, glanced back the way she had come and then rolled her eyes at her own paranoia. As if any of my entourage even knows that I am missing, she thought with a snort.
The front door was heavy. Selena gave it a good shove and nearly fell forward as the door lurched inward. The brassy toll of a bell above made her jump guiltily, but there was no one there to see her blush.
She let out a big breath and eased the door shut behind her. When she turned around again, she was astonished to find a middle-aged woman in the previously unoccupied place behind the counter.
Selena jumped again and let out a loud gasp.
“Sorry ’bout that, girly. Didn’t mean to frighten you.” The woman behind the counter wore a smile that could have been borne of mockery or sincerity.
Selena could only gape at the shopkeeper. The woman’s brown hair, which glinted here and there with strands of silver, hung down past her shoulders in no particular style. Her black frock was clean but worn out around the elbows. Selena imagined she had knitted the drab woolen shawl herself.
Despite the woman’s unremarkable appearance, Selena felt a distinct tickle in the back of her brain. There was something familiar about her, though Selena knew it was impossible that they had met before.
Still, she half expected the woman to call her by name.
“Don’t get too many youngins in here, but you look like a bright little thing,” the woman said in a voice that sounded like ripping paper. “Now, I’m sure you didn’t come just to revel in my beauty…”
“I have come to purchase a book.” As much as she wanted to survey the rows and rows of books around her, she could not look away from the oddly familiar shopkeeper.
“A book? Well, I’d say you came to the right place.” The shopkeeper retained her ambiguous half-smile. “Any book in particular, love?”
“No,” Selena replied. “I thought I might look around.”
“Ah,” the woman murmured, “want to see what jumps out at you, eh?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Madam,” the woman repeated with a scoff. “Aren’t you just too polite? If you’re trying to pass yourself off as a commoner, you’re not doing too good of a job of it. That old coat of yours can’t cover up your impeccable grammar or your perfect posture.”
The woman rubbed her lower back ruefully. “Nah, don’t call me ‘madam.’ I’m no gentlewoman. The name’s Lydia Spade…and who might you be, darling?”
Before she could stop herself, Selena performed a slight curtsy and gave her real name.
“Nelesti, you say?” Lydia arched an eyebrow. “As in the Duke and Duchess Nelesti?”
Selena bit her lower lip. What was it about this woman that unnerved her so? She had not felt nearly this flustered when meeting lord after lord at her coming-of-age ball. She was about to excuse herself from the bookstore when Lydia’s expression softened.
“No need to curtsy, snowflake. In here, a woman’s a woman, and I wouldn’t pay no mind if you were a half-ogre…not that their kind are known for mental acuity.”
Lydia winked, and Selena smiled in spite of herself.
“So, you’ve come for a book, but you don’t know which one. Is there a particular topic you’re interested in, dearie? How about some poetry from Silas the Bard? Maybe his early stuff, before everything became about war and battles?”
Selena was interested in a great many subjects, but poetry was not one of them. Her expression must have conveyed as much because Lydia stopped midway to the shelves and scratched her chin.
“Don’t like poems, eh? Well, all that rhyming can get annoying after a few hundred pages. The fairy stories of Old Canth are much more entertaining…”
“I like history…and philosophy…even chemistry,” Selena ventured.
“The real stuff, eh? No bedtime stories for you, buttercup…” Lydia turned around and hustled over to the books on the opposite wall. The volumes shelved there were of every size and color imaginable. Most of them were faded with age, filling the store with their musty, yellow smell.
“How about this one?” Lydia removed a tome from a lower shelf, grunting from the effort. “It’s the diary of a top Canthian aide during the War of the Three Kings. Lots of political intrigue.”
Selena shrugged. “I have already read much about that period. I was hoping for something a little farther back in time.”
“That can get tricky,” Lydia told her. “Do you know any languages aside from the Superian Tongue?”
“I read the Old Kings’ Speech and Middle Glenning. I can manage modern Paramese and some of the older dialects as well as High and Vulgar Loreccan. I know only a little of the elfish tongue, but I could probably decipher it better if I had more samples of it.”
Selena took a deep breath, feeling suddenly self-conscious beneath the steely gaze of the shopkeeper.
“Is that all, hon?” Lydia asked with a laugh. “Well, I think we can work with that.”
She turned her back to Selena and began running her fingers over the spines of various books.
“What about Ptolermo’s Divine Creation?” Lydia called over her shoulder. “It tells how the gods created the world and how the earliest civilizations developed. Can’t get much farther back in time than that!”
“I do not much care for mythology,” Selena replied. “It is mostly speculation, and the gods always are portrayed as being as ignorant and fallible as the mortals who worship them.”
Lydia fixed Selena with a thoughtful look, and for the second time, Selena entertained the idea that this was not their first meeting.
“No imagination inside of that pretty head of yours, eh? That surprises me…but only a little.”
Before Selena could ask her what she meant, Lydia went back to her work, mumbling to herself.
“Ah,” she said after another full minute of searching. “This one you’ll like, I think.”
She flashed Selena a triumphant smile as she walked over to the counter and set the book down.
“What is it about?” Selena asked, trying her best to conceal the excitement that was blooming from somewhere deep inside her.
Lydia answered with a question of her own. “Have you ever heard of Lyrend of Rend?”