He didn’t know if any of the other assistants had cared enough to tell Nikoly that Tiiran had no family, but presumably Nikoly had figured it out because he hadn’t introduced Tiiran with a family name.
“I know some people have families but still no home,” Tiiran added. “But usually they go hand in hand. From all descriptions, missing home isn’t pleasant, but having something to missispleasant. It feels like a philosopher’s topic. Or something to be put in a poem, but so hidden by flowers I wouldn’t notice it.” He frowned in thought and irritation with the absent Orin. “It’s not that I don’tlikeflowers. But to me they are just flowers. They don’tdoanything.”
“I don’t understand.” Xenia responded first, and not unkindly despite the words. “But people have homes because they build them for themselves, pretty boy.”
“I didn’t mean actual homes.” Tiiran took a breath to calm himself.
“Yeah, neither did I.” Xenia didn’t seem insulted. She just looked at him, then at Nikoly, who was staring at Tiiran. “The building of homes as I might build a bookcase, and the building of homes as someone might create shelter with their friends or loved ones.”
“Oh.” Tiiran frowned again but not at her. “Not a literal building. Yes, I see. That sounds like something Orin would tell me. Though he doesn’t have a home either, by that definition.”
“Orin,” Nikoly echoed, strained.
Tiiran looked over to him, curious about whether or not Orin and Nikoly had encountered one another in the library and what had happened if they had. A one-off tup was nothing unusual. A longing for more… Tiiran could understand that, with the two of them. They were both probably quite good at fucking. They were widely experienced, thoughtful, observant, and so, so attractive.
He still scowled as he turned his head to look at anything that wasn’t Nikoly. It was easy to imagine Orin and Nikoly following the tradition of library assistants and outguards established centuries ago. They both drew the eye, and though Nikoly was inclined to defer to Tiiran in library matters, he and Orin could command attention simply by existing.
And, well, Tiiran did not know Nikoly’s tastes, but he’d gleaned some of Orin’s, and he couldn’t imagine Nikoly would object to Orin making use of him. He couldn’t imagine anyone would. They would be…prettywasn’t a strong enough word.
Tiiran bit his bottom lip and shifted slightly, only to startle when Nikoly’s hand appeared before him, inked fingers curled around the cup of lavender bliss, which he urged Tiiran to take when Tiiran looked up.
“You seem as if you could use some,” he said quietly, so Tiiran took the cup and thanked him before having a sip.
He could admit he was thirsty indeed.
Chapter Five
The shelf was perfectly functional. A note of the change was written into the library records by Mattin and then promptly filed, to hopefully never be looked at again by anyone in their lifetimes, and whatever went on between Xenia and Po and Amie meant Xenia returned to the library a few times in the following days to disappear among the shelves with one or both of them.
Not with Nikoly, not that Tiiran saw. Not that Tiiran was looking. He had plenty of other things on his mind, like the late spring rain that meant people tracking mud into the library, and Niksa getting pains in his hands at the sudden change in the weather, giving him a legitimate reason to be a sour apple, although he didn’t want to rest in his rooms. Tiiran sent him to one of the abandoned offices where he could sit by a fireplace and sort out a small pile of papers Tiiran had discovered in a drawer in a corner on the third floor.
The corridor in front of the library was sheltered from rain and snow falling from overhead, but did not offer much protection from anything the wind blew in from the side. One of Piya’s ridiculous banners got soaked, then dripped a puddle by the entrance that only made things worse. Someone should have taken down all the banners once it was obvious the rainfall would be serious but no one in the palace had. Limp banners were everywhere.
Tiiran had gotten into the habit of looking up from his work at the front desk whenever the doors opened and shouting, “Wipe your feet!” before he’d even seen who was there.
One of the usual scholars had jumped. Po, returning from a trip to deliver a copying request to someone within the palace, had shouted back at him that she fucking was already. And one palace guard, walking into the library for unknown reasons, had startled backward then walked out without uttering a word.
Nikoly had come up to the desk not long after that, silently, gently encouraging Tiiran to go do something else somewhereelse. Perhaps it was the moisture in the air turning Tiiran’s hair into even more of an unruly dandelion puff, but Tiiran wasn’t in the mood to gently do anything.
He stayed put, scooting himself and his stool to the side just enough for Nikoly to work alongside him if he insisted upon being there. Of course, ‘just enough’ turned out to be a distracting choice, with Nikoly’s arm brushing his whenever Nikoly dipped his reed quill into his inkpot.
If Nikoly noticed the resulting fidgeting from Tiiran’s side of the desk, he chose not to remark on it. Tiiran covertly studied him for a while, deciding to blame his distraction on the weather. He also decided thatanyonewould have been wondering what sort of training Nikoly had gotten that made him so impervious to Tiiran’s temper.
So what if, according to Orin, it wasn’t actually temper, but how Tiiran showed anxiety and concern? It looked like temper. It sounded like temper. Nikoly should have been keeping his distance. Even Po avoided Tiiran at his foulest. Yet Nikoly, much like Orin, stayed where he was.
“What?” Nikoly asked without looking up from the line he was writing.
Tiiran flinched and glared at Nikoly for causing it. Nikoly’s answering smile nearly stopped his heart. He was almost grateful when the doors creaked open.
“Wipe your feet!” Tiiran got it out before Nikoly could say something more polite, then straightened so abruptly he slid to his feet. Nikoly was instantly standing as well, alarmed attention on the door and whatever had gotten Tiiran excited, his arm in front of Tiiran.
His arm was down at his side again a mere second later and he didn’t look at Tiiran when Tiiran glanced to him.
“What sort of fae-cursed day is this?” one of the outguards at the door grumbled as she stopped to wipe her boots on the rug Tiiran had put out earlier for that purpose. There were two other outguards with her, neither of them especially tall, and Tiiran plopped himself back onto his stool with a dejected sigh.
Nikoly gave him a long study before turning to face the new arrivals. Those assistants at the copying tables also turned to face them, already discussing the guards amongst themselves. Tiiran rolled his eyes and bent back over his work. The outguards were here to turn in reports. He left them to Nikoly, who greeted them pleasantly as if he were a merchant and they’d just entered his shop.
Tiiran doubted Nikoly had ever worked in a shop, even if his family owned one. Nikoly’s manner was not quite that of a scholar, or a beat-of-four, or even a trader. He acted more as if his wealthy parents had paid for him to be educated and then set him loose in the capital. He spoke like the lesser nobles still found around the palace, but walked and looked like a guard except for his taste in fine clothes, his jewelry, and his ink markings.
