I can admit when I am wrong. It is just that, I am hardly ever wrong.

Princess Saoirse failed to create a favorable first impression and for that reason, I have abandoned any delusions that we might have a romantic relationship. Our differences in culture, temperament, interests, and morals are too great to hope we might find any common ground. I am, afterall, a firm believer in the importance of compatibility in a marriage partner, and I have no patience for trying to compromise my standards. How could I even bring myself to love someone so… foreign?

Despite my abandonment of trying to like Saoirse romantically, I can concede that my assessment of her as someone without any redeeming qualities is inaccurate. After seeing her converse with the other Assembly members, I have learned she is a logical, dedicated organizer who excels at managing finances. In addition, her advisor is… intriguing.

“The Douburg Royal Library predates the castle by at least six centuries,” he informs me, as if quoting a history book. “Ancient architects designed the building to allow for extensive expansion downwards to a depth of 150 meters.”

“That’s incredible,” I breathe, unable to hold in my astonishment. Although the Royal Library is famous, very little is actually written about the structure which houses the oldest books and scrolls in the known world. As I understand it, only nobles of Douburg blood are permitted to enter. Even Ballinamore was refused access during his last visit, although I can’t imagine my book-snubbing brother was as upset as he pretended to be. Needless to say, I am a bit thrilled to be considered an exception to this rule and am having trouble maintaining my decorum. “That would be at least 30 stories, no?”

“32 of which we are aware,” Advisor Ailin supplies. “Although some scholars believe secret passageways may lead even deeper. Understanding the ancient building techniques by which the lattice work was erected is a pursuit funded by the Branch of Builders every year. If the project interests you, Sir Abban heads the research. He will be at the feast tonight if you would like me to make introductions.”

He pauses his recitation when we stop outside an enormous oak archway. Wide double doors engraved with glowing golden runes lie beyond encompassing the entire north wall. To the side, a sturdy desk covered in various scrolls and paperwork partially blocks the view of cabinetry filling the west wall. A young woman in a modest blue frock bends over, filing cards from her arms into an open drawer.

Ailin approaches the desk while clearing his throat simultaneously. The girl whips around, her golden eyes wide before they crinkle with her upturned lips. “Gil!” she exclaims, much too excitedly as she sets down her cards. “I didn’t expect you to visit this week!”

“It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Miss Una,” he responds warmly as he bends to kiss her hand. She giggles like a schoolgirl at his chivalrous behavior, but I can’t help but find his manners odd. As a “miss” she is not a lady and therefore he should outrank her. Yet he treats her respectfully while she treats him familiarly? Very odd. “I am merely here to give His Grace, Prince Fionn, a tour of the library,” he explains while gesturing to me.

The girl’s mouth gaps like a fish for only a moment before she dips into a very deep curtsy. “I apologize, Your Grace, for not addressing you properly,” she squeaks. “If you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”

When I don’t immediately respond, Gilroy lifts the girl upright with a hand on her arm and another on her back. “Miss Una is one of the many indexers who tirelessly categorizes the manuscripts below. She can find almost anything within the library, and if an Untouched requests a particular book, she will retrieve it for them.” I recoil at the advisor’s use of the term “Untouched”, knowing he is referring to me, but he does not seem to notice my discomfort. “She is also quite skilled at giving recommendations for both pleasure reading and research purposes.”

“You flatter me, Gil,” she blushes. I find it difficult to interpret female behavior on the best days, but I would venture to guess this one is flirting with the advisor and the little man is eating it up with warm smiles and intimate touches. I glare at his hand still resting on the small of her back. “If it pleases Your Grace, I or any of the other indexers would be happy to fetch you anything from the library, night or day.”

I don’t dare speak lest my irritation slip into my voice, so I settle for a nod of acknowledgment. I just want to go in already, not watch these two commoners flirt.

“Can we actually check out a flare?” Ailin asks Miss Una. I have no idea what he is referring to, but I hope this won’t take too much longer.

“Yes, of course, hang on a moment,” she beams. She bends down, withdrawing a cylindrical white crystal from a drawer of her desk and handing it to the advisor. “I’m sorry, the infusers have not yet refilled our inventory this week.”

“That’s alright, I can infuse it myself,” he responds while tucking the object in his trouser pocket. He picks up a quill settled on the desk and bends over to write our names and the date in the logbook there. “Well, shall we?” he asks, turning to me at last.

I don’t waste any time to stroll towards the oak doors, even as Miss Una bids farewell with, “May you have safe passage below!”

“Watch for me from above,” Ailin responds in a ritualistic sort of way, but I don’t pause to think about the meaning behind their exchange, instead pulling at the golden handles before me. However, the doors do not move, either inwards or outwards, and I can almost feel the insufferable advisor watching me. “Allow me,” he smirks, and I reluctantly step to the side, allowing the shorter man to stand in front.

When his fingers encircle the curved handles, a flash of golden light races from the metal upwards and outwards following the path of the engravings like a fish zipping along a spiralling river. His eyes glow with the same golden light, obstructing the green impurities of his iris for only a moment before he pushes inwards.

I gasp at what I see before me. Almost like looking into the largest dollhouse I’ve ever seen, all 32 floors of the library face me with shelves reaching backwards into darkness. I pass through the doorway onto a curved mezzanine running circularly around an impossibly deep and wide chasm. The pit gives the illusion of separating me from the platforms embedded on the other side, while in reality the circumference is walkable. The five stories above ground must consume the entire north side of the palace, curving around at least 30 meters to either side before stopping abruptly as if the builders simply forgot to create a southern wall. However, the lower floors circle around the pit completely, disappearing directly below us.

“You like it?” Gilroy chuckles.

“Like it? I think I’m in love,” I whisper honestly. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so eager for an occupation if I could simply live in here forever. Librarians and patrons shuffle through the depths of the silent library or lounge in small reading nooks tucked against the railings overlooking the chasm. A strange boxlike contraption lifts two patrons from the depths of the library up the scaffolded cliff to higher ground.

“I’m glad,” the advisor hums.

I tear my eyes away from the spectacular view to look at him. He stares back at me through his silver spectacles with doughy hazel eyes, half-mast as they are due to the crinkles of his side smile. A single dimple interrupts the smoothness of his rounded cheek, and his black curls frame his face chaotically. I can understand why the ladies might find him attractive.

“Are you in a relationship with that librarian?” I blurt out before I even realize what I’m asking.

His smile slips away, unfortunately, as his eyebrows shoot upwards and then quickly downwards, forming an unpleasant furrow. I think I might have struck a nerve, but I’m not quite sure why my question might bother him. “No,” he finally responses, before continuing very slowly and deliberately. “Miss Una is a very sweet girl, but I am not interested in her romantically. Why do you ask?”

Why did I ask? I hardly know myself. Perhaps I am merely curious about this man who everyone seems to like and respect, despite his lowborn status and youthfulness. “You seem like the sort of man who breaks women’s hearts,” I shrug. “I simply wonder if my assessment is accurate.”

Gilroy chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Do you find me so attractive?”

I sputter at his response, glancing around the hushed library to see if anyone overheard him ask such an inappropriate question. “I beg your pardon!” I whisper-shout to him.

“Come now, Your Grace, all this majesty is before us, yet you ask me about my love life. How could I not think you were flirting with me?” he smirks.

“I—I am a man! And engaged!”

“Are you suggesting you may break my heart, Your Grace?”

“You overstep your place, Advisor. I warn you, I must inform my fiance of your behavior as I have no intention of keeping secrets from her.”

“No need. I keep no secrets from Sersh either and, unlike you, I can relay this conversation in perfect detail, down to the priceless expression on your face.”

At this point, I am quite sure I am being teased for this insolent man’s sport, and, as my cheeks warm, I can find no words with which to respond.

“Come on, let’s continue the tour,” he urges. “What do you wish to see? The upper floors contain contemporary works of both fiction and academics while older materials are stored below. What interests you? Escapism? History? Art? Science?”

“Can’t I just wander for a bit alone?” I ask, desperate to escape the man’s company even as I follow him to the far edge of the balcony where a porter waits next to a massive pulley system.

Gilroy shakes his head in response. “Unfortunately, no. It is far too dangerous for an Untouched, but that reminds me—” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the crystal the indexer gave him. His eyes flash with magic for a moment, and I watch in awe as the motes of gold in his eyes trail down his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, disappearing under his coat, and reappearing in the palm of his hand. Finally the magical motes melt off his fingertips into the crystal, imbuing it with a soft golden light.

He hands me the glowing crystal, which I take cautiously, curious about this “flares” function. “This is for you, in case we get separated. It will keep the shadow demons at bay for up to four hours,” he explains as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

“Excuse me?”

But he is already stepping into the box designed to lower us to the various floors of the library. “Where to, Gilroy?” the porter inquires.

“Ask him,” he responds, gesturing to me. “What would you like to see first, Your Grace?”

“Aren’t you the one giving me the tour?” I retort as I stuff the flare in my pocket.

He just grins at me with the insufferably charming grin. “You’re right. I know just the place. Fifteen E, Darach.”

“Very good, m’lord,” the porter—Darach—responds with a knowing smile.

“Come on. Get in,” Gilroy encourages as he grabs my wrist and tugs me into the suspended basket. It sways slightly as I stumble forward and the smaller man steadies me with a hand on my chest. The points of contact between us burn as I feel uncomfortably aware of his grip on my wrist and palm on my chest. I step back from him, and he releases his hold on me, but I am sure his touch burned through my shirt, because I feel a distinct draft sending a shiver up my spine.

The basket lurches and then descends into darkness along a railed vertical path. Gilroy plops lazily on a plush velvet bench, built into the outer edge of the box, draping his arms over the edge in a carefree manner. He looks expectantly from me to the place next to him, so I reluctantly settle down, determining to not let my discomfort ruin the ride in the strange contraption.

I can’t decide whether to look out across the chasm or to face the open structured rails carrying us past floors which run underneath the main castle. The view of the cylindrical rows supported by only stone pillars is breathtaking; fascinating to wonder how the weight of the entire castle rests on mostly empty air. However, as we fall deeper into the seemingly bottomless pit, a slight vertigo disrupts my enjoyment of watching the sky slip away.

So, instead I face inwards, even as Gilroy hangs off the side, staring across the great expanse. As we clear each layer, I catch glimpses of the great library: shelves filled to the brim, glass encased podiums displaying single pages, workers pushing carts down the stacks, and occasionally, something moving deeper within.

The contraption moves achingly slow and after a few minutes, an uneasy thought takes root in my mind. I imagine a mechanical malfunction plunging us to our deaths and wonder how many patrons have died stumbling too close to the edge of the mezzanine. I itch with the desire to order the fool-hearty advisor to keep his arms inside the box, even as he swings them slowly back and forth through the void. My chest twists uncomfortably at the thought of finding his mangled corpse at the bottom of this dark pit.

If only he would turn inwards, face me, say something! I close my eyes, but that only makes the unexplained anxiety worse as the comforting silence of the library turns into silence of the unknown.

Honestly! I couldn’t get this damn man to shut up before! And now he won’t say a word! He just stares off into space with an easy smile on his face, his half-lidded eyes droopily scanning the vertical horizon.

Speak, damn it! Shouldn’t he be giving me a tour?

As if he can hear my internal screaming, his gaze slips over to me. His curls fall into his eyes as he rests his head on his arm, but the half-smile never leaves his face. I quickly look away from him, fiddling with my hands and biting down a command for him to sit properly.

“Are you afraid of heights, Your Grace?”

Is he mocking me? I press my lips into a thin line, holding back my bubbling anger.

“The lift terrified me too, before I became accustomed to it,” he confesses. “Sersh used to read aloud to distract me while we rode, because I was always too nauseous to read by myself.”

Maybe he isn’t mocking me at all, but trying to distract me? It must be working, because my anxiety slips away as I notice something bothering. “You must be fairly close with the Princess if you feel comfortable calling her such a familiar name,” I grind.

But the bow-lipped man just hums contently at my words. “She is my best friend. Has been since childhood.”

I rub my chest at his words as something odd happens to my heart. A sort of stabbing, twisting sensation I can’t quite understand. “So,” I look away from the advisor’s unnerving smile to study my hands. “How do you feel about me marrying your best friend?”