Tiiran waved between them, then around the library, then back at himself. Bemused silence answered him, so he pushed out a breath. “I wouldn’t need help if things weren’t so dire.” That was important to note. He went on only after Nikoly nodded. “I admit, it’s tempting to use you,” he could have bitten his tongue, “but you have work to do as well.”
“Yes, but less than you, and I don’t mind.” Nikoly had not lost the frown, although it wasn’t soft with confusion anymore. “You’re free to use me. Please.”
That was almost begging. Nobody begged to work with nobles. Yet there Nikoly was, with one of his eager gazes as well.
“Youaregood at it,” Tiiran admitted, then spent several stunned seconds trying not to stare—again—when Nikoly ducked his head in a manner that could only be described asinordinately pleased. “Well, you are. Good at it, that is,” Tiiran heard himself saying for no reason except that Nikoly kept his head down while lifting his gaze to look at him, and that somehow made Tiiran lightheaded. Maybe he needed to eat.
He would later, he promptly decided, then cleared his throat and looked out over the tables of assistants, all busy copying except for Niksa, who was scowling as he generally did, and Po, who was possibly sleeping.
Tiiran didn’t have it in him to wake her. Anyway, one of the others would when they noticed.
“All right,” he said with his gaze still on his weary assistants, before turning back to Nikoly. “But if anyone troubles you, no matter what I’m doing, no matter if it’s a fucking Canamorra at the desk being rude, come get me. You shouldn’t have to deal with them alone.”
The ridiculousness of the order wasn’t lost on him. Tiiran could barely see over the desk without the stool. Nikoly was built like a noble’s family guard and had handled that obnoxious beat-of-four quite easily. But Nikoly ducked his head again and Tiiran spent a strange moment imagining himself charging down the spiral staircase to throw himself between Nikoly and danger.
His face was warm.
“It’s the fae blood,” he said weakly, hoping Nikoly wouldn’t notice the blush. “Makes people afraid to challenge me.”
“Or maybe,” Nikoly said quietly, his body pressed to the other side of the desk so that he and Tiiran weren’t terribly far apart, “they like to watch the fire spark.”
“I don’t….” Tiiran had no clue what he’d intended to say. “No, it’s the fae blood,” he finished at last, distracted by the faint curve to Nikoly’s lips. “At least they’re good for something, the child-abandoning fucks.”
Nikoly startled backward, the way most did when Tiiran spoke like that. “And bless and keep them,” he offered to the air while curling one hand around his bracelet.
Tiiran waved that off. His fae parent, or any fae for that matter, would get a blessing from Tiiran exactly never.
“I’ll just go then.” He nearly toppled off the stool, surprised to discover his backside was numb, but scooped up his current assignment before gesturing for Nikoly to use the stool if he liked. It would make Nikoly almost comically too high for the desk. Tiiran might need to search for a shorter one if this happened again. “Call if you need me. Or Mattin,” Tiiran paused to make a face, but Mattin was probably better if diplomacy was required. “If he’s closer… and you can find him. I’m serious. Don’t put yourself out too much for me. All right?”
He looked up. Nikoly hadn’t moved. That curve to his lips was still there. “You said much the same when we met.”
“Did I?” Tiiran’s memories of meeting Nikoly nearly a year ago were mostly a blur of trying not to make a fool of himself over the new handsome assistant and hoping the new handsome assistant would enjoy the library and stay. “Well, entitled nobles can be a problem.” Something went through Nikoly’s eyes. Tiiran stumbled on. “But I am sure I meant it then as I mean it now. Call me if you need to.”
“And you will save me?”
Tiiran narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but his face wasn’t stinging with the hot rush of embarrassment, so perhaps Nikoly wasn’t making fun of him. Maybe he was, as he’d said, charmed.
Unlikely. But Tiiran ducked his head and felt like Nikoly for doing it. “I’ll try to get my work done as soon as possible,” he assured Nikoly, then darted up the staircase before hediddo something to make Nikoly mock him.
Chapter Two
When the last of the setting sun’s light had winked out of sight and Tiiran had to light a lamp or sit elsewhere, he stopped and moved, popping his spine. Then, shoulder and wrist aching, he gathered up his pile of finished work: answers to letters, a supply inventory, an ever-growing list of things to do in an ever-changing order, and part of his copiedA Guyde to the Beauteous Styles of the Rulers Ancient,and left the table and chair in the farther corner of the third level to head back down to the first.
He noted some curtains were not closed that should have been and stopped to deal with those before continuing on, his steps louder and slower than they’d been that morning. It was quiet but not entirely empty on the first level. Tiiran could just see the orange glow of a fireplace in one of the side nooks between the shelves. Any remaining assistants would be in there, although one scholarly noble was at one of the assistants’ tables near the entrance, two lamps around her as she scribbled into a notebook.
Tiiran put his work on the front desk, then wavered, debating leaving whichever assistant was here last to close up and lock the doors, or staying to try to get some reading in. He wasn’t as educated as many of the other assistants and should be using any free time to fill in the gaps in his learning. He could also just go to bed, although he’d forgotten to eat—deliberately put it off, then forgotten, which he regretted now. He’d have to walk across the palace to the kitchens for any sort of supper, but he could take it to his room to eat before falling asleep.
He was supposed to share a room with more assistants but there weren’t so many that sharing rooms was required. There hadn’t been since before Tye. After Tye, they were fortunate to haveanyassistants. Tiiran had once thought himself lucky for getting a bedroom to himself for the first time in his life. That had lasted until his second year of returning to a silent, cold room.
Maybe there were buns left from breakfast, and he could have those and some tea before leaving. He stumbled in that direction, pausing in the rest area doorway to see Po curled up in the one of the chairs by the fire, sipping from a cup of something.
“There you are!” She shook her head, her chin-length straight hair swinging a little. “We thought you’d passed out somewhere. You were hiding in your corner again, weren’t you? I owe Nikoly a bag of almonds. Tut tut, little bee, running away from it all.”
“Where else can I work uninterrupted?” Tiiran answered without thinking, then reared back. “What?”
“It’s a quiet night if you want to head to your room. I can stay for a while longer, before I kick that scholar out. Mattin is still here anyway—yes, yes, I tried to get the daisy to leave or at least eat. You know how he is. Wait, of course you do. You’re twins. Both obsessed with the library.”
“You’re not funny.” Tiiran came in to get his tea, only to pause again at the sight of a small plate filled with sections of at least two oranges, which someone had apparently peeled and left out. Another plate held a raisin bun that Tiiran had definitely not brought in that morning. A sliver of paper between the plates read, “For Tiiran,” in Nikoly’s neat handwriting.
