Krin didn’t like books. He didn’t like debate or philosophy or adventure—even the make-believe kind found in the dusty tomes and scrolls on the very shelves around him. He preferred simple things. Ruin Leaf tea in the evenings. Long hard runs before the sun came up. Dipping the stale ends of bread in warm milk beside the kitchen fire. More than once he’d been mistaken for a pauper, begging the kitchen maids for scraps, not the bodyguard and closest friend of the Heir to Stellagrad.

  Krin looked at the crumpled paper in his hand then slipped another book from the shelf beside him and added it to the pile he already had in his arms. The library was dim, narrow windows let in thin shafts of light where dust danced in lazy circles, but it hardly lit the tower room.

  He looked again at the paper and shook his head. Unlike Krin, Prince Teminon was an avid reader and often had Krin assist him in gathering his list of literature. Krin had been Tem’s protector since they were both boys. Krin’s father had been the King’s Blade before him, and when Tem became King, Krin would inherit the title. Though, since his father was dead, most called him that already, or they used his more common, yet unofficial epithet: The King’s Shadow.

  It was Krin’s duty never to leave Tem’s side, though many previous Blades were liberal with their interpretation of ‘never’, Krin was not. With no family of his own and with Tem seeing his own parents very little, they’d become like brothers and Krin had vowed to never let Tem out of his sight.

  Krin turned awkwardly, the narrow rows of books not built for his broad shoulders, and shuffled to the end where he’d left Tem at a desk, flipping through the brown pages of a tome on theoretical astrology.

  The desk was empty.

  “Stars.”

  Krin dropped the books on the desk, closed his eyes, and took in a long, deep breath. Tem had taken to wandering lately, without notifying Krin.

  He does it on purpose!

  Krin pushed the thought aside and focused inward. Dust from the ancient pages threatened to make him sneeze, but he held it in, eyes watering slightly. A moment later he felt wind on his face, warm midday sunshine on the back of his hands, and the soft spray of water on his skin. He had the sensation of being up very, very high.

  “For you, Master Shadow?”

  Krin opened his eyes and the feelings were gone. He turned to find Book Keeper Quenreyell standing behind him in the stacks. She was tall for a woman, eye to eye with Krin, and her skin was almost a true black, a stark contrast to her cream robes and headscarf. She nodded toward the stand of books on the desk.

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  “Oh,” Krin said, still trying to pull himself from his daze. “No, they’re for Tem.”

  “I should have known.” She smiled and stepped forward, picking up the first book on the pile. “Great Women of the Old Empire. Our Prince sure does enjoy his histories.”

  Krin nodded his agreement.

  Guenreyell ran her finger down the spins of the others. There were no words there, to titles, no names of scholars, but when she finished she nodded as if she knew the contents of every book by the quality of its leather.

  She turned back to the stacks and selected one more book and added it to the already unwieldy collection.

  “That one’s not on my list,” Krin said, showing her the crumpled paper covered in Tem’s neat hand.

  Quenreyell didn’t so much as blink at it. “He’ll want it. Only one other person has taken out all these particular books in all the time I’ve been Book Keeper, and that book was her latest read.”

  “Her?” Krin asked.

  Quenreyell eyed him as if offended.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just don’t see the serving girls having much time to read, and the ladies are usually more interested in Tem than in what he’s reading.”

  She smiled and clasped her hands behind her back. “Her name is Emysen, a Knight and an avid scholar. Her and Tem have been reading the same books without knowing it for months now. She’s one of the only other regulars I see here. Other than the TimeKeepers.”

  There was a note of hostility in her voice, or fear perhaps. Many were hesitant of the Timekeepers, but Krin just chalked that up to superstition and paranoia of power. The Timekeepers were little more than glorified bookworms in Krin’s opinion.

  “Thank you,” Krin said as he hoisted the teetering stack into his arms. Quenreyell helped him steady it and he didn’t miss the squeeze she gave to his bicep in passing.

  He headed for the door, pushing it open with his foot and squinting against the glaring sunlight.

  “Her name is Emysen,” Quenreyell called out.

  Krin looked back over his shoulder. “Yes, I believe you mentioned that.”

  The Book Keeper shrugged and turned back to the stacks as Krin let the door swing shut behind him.

  Outside a breeze blew a light spray of water from the falls toward the wall and all the sensations from earlier in the library returned. But there was still no Tem.

  As Krin looked along the serpentine white stone wall he just glimpsed the corner of a burgundy cape flitting down the steps. Even from this distance Krin could almost feel the bounce in Tem’s step and see the grin that split his face. He chased thoughts like a pup chasing a butterfly. Krin shook his head and chased after his charge.