It was awkward and quiet as they walked down the rows of scrolls and books. The leather grip of Radhildur’s gloves along their sword could be heard. Frederich kept his head down and tried not to look anywhere other than the path before his feet. He would take the Royal to the archives and then depart swiftly. Without incident. 

Except it seemed the hand on his shoulder would demand otherwise.

His face was promptly shoved into the bookshelf closest to him. He could feel the cold sting of metal against the back of his neck. The sudden panic of not knowing if that was the blade or sheath startled him. 

“What were you doing in the atrium earlier?”

Frederich gaped like a fish. “Atrium?”

“Don’t be stupid. Speak plainly and concisely. Now.”

“Listen, highness, I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frederich said. “I’ve been in the library with the others, you can ask any of them for confirmation. Granted I fell asleep at my desk, but I’ve been there all day and—”

The pressure on the back of his neck eased.

“You can only enter the atrium in a dream state. How did you get there, Scholar?”

“What?”

There was an exasperated exhale before the metal touch pulled away completely. “Is there a safe place for us to talk?”

Frederich pulled away, rubbing his nose with a flash of anger. “So you can injure me further without witness?”

There was a surprised look in those gold eyes followed by something that looked like remorse.

“I apologize.” They said, “You being in the atrium is a complicated matter and a threat. Knowledge on the subject is limited, so to find someone there is…”

He stared down at Radhildur waiting for some absurd excuse.

“Finding someone there scares me,” Radhildur finally said, “If you’ll allow me to explain, I believe you’d understand.”

Frederich blinked. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected them to be so honest. As a person, he was offended that a Royal wanted forgiveness after a wanton act like that. However, as a Scholar, manners were but a trifle matter compared to the pursuit of information. The situation intrigued him, and to say that his mere presence was a threat preened his ego, if only a bit. 

“Come along,” he said coolly and walked on.

Their trek further into the maze of bookshelves was no less awkward or quiet. But now there was a shared inquiry between them that both needed answers to. He led them to a small alcove hidden at the back of the library. It was a walled archway, where a small bench was built into the far wall—like a window seat without the window. 

“Few come back this far into the library,” Frederich explained. “This whole section is part of our fiction reserves. Not many Scholars find such use for the content here.”

“There is often truth hidden in fiction,” Radhildur sighed, sitting on the bench and resting their sword beside them. “What part of my blade did you recognize?”

“The guard, of course,” Frederich replied. “The peony is extremely distinct.”

“Very few have had the misfortune to see this sword.” Radhildur offered him a wry smirk. 

He offered them a bland look in return. “The misfortune of seeing your sword or meeting you?”

They laughed, it was tired but bemused all the same. “You’ve a good head on your shoulders, it seems.”

“Wouldn’t be a Scholar otherwise, highness.”

“How many winters are you?”

“Twenty, nearly twenty-one.”

“So young!” The exclamation almost felt insincere. “You’re making me feel like an elder.”

He rolled his eyes, the seventh heir was not heinously older than him.

“So the atrium,” he egged on.

Radhildur sighed. “Right. How much do you know about the Celestials?”

“Their mythos is extensive and almost always contradicting,” Frederich said. “There’s always one source that refutes the others. Even personal testaments from their chosen emissaries are varying.”

They hummed. “This is all very unbiased. Do you believe in the Celestials?”

“No.”

“You should, starting today,” Radhildur replied with a deadpan tone. “The atrium is the forum of the Celestials, a place where they can take semi-corporeal forms to interact with those they’ve decided will champion for them. Each Celestial has a territory within the atrium. Where you found yourself during your dream was within the land of Ku.”

“That’s impossible.” Frederich replied. “That would imply the rumors of the Crown Princess and you…”

“Are true.”

It was difficult to gauge Radhildur’s expression beneath their veil. But judging from their eyes, there was a dark glimmer that seemed a vague cross between hatred and mirth. 

“If you fall asleep and find yourself in Ku’s realm, immediately call me. I will find you there.”

“What makes you so sure that I’ll dream of that place again?” Frederich pressed. “And even if I do, why would it pose a danger to me? It’s only a dream.”

“You fail to understand, little Scholar. The Celestials exist outside of our own realm. The dream of their territory is a gateway from ours to theirs. While it may be a dream for you, it is very much their reality. Any harm that could befall you there will befall you here as well. Ku itself is not a malicious being, it is quite gentle in actuality and almost paternal. But its realm has been tainted, and thus it is very unsafe for anyone who does not bear Ku’s blessing.”

“How do you know I don’t?”

“Ku’s blessing takes the form of a star-shaped scar upon the bearer’s face. And unless your countenance has been shaded with makeup or magic…” Radhildur’s eyes narrowed as if they were smiling. “Then you do not bear such a gift.”

That would explain the veil, then. 

“If I’m not one of Ku’s children.” Frederich crossed his arms, frustration starting to grow. “Then what was I doing in its so-called realm?”

“That’s what scares me,” Radhildur admitted. “I don’t know.”

Frederich stared at them. “So this is all speculation.”

“I’ve met Ku many times—talked with it and traveled with it,” Radhildur said. “I know this subject well. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. It’ll only be a matter of time.”

“Right…” Frederich looked them up and down. “This wouldn’t have to do with you wanting to look at the past prophecies of Av, would it?”

“Av and Ia.” Radhildur stood. “Both are known as prophetic Celestials. While there are fewer champions of Ia, its prophecies should also be recorded somewhere.”

Ia, the Celestial attributed to the seas and life-giving waters like rain and rivers. It was attested that the tides spoke of its wishes and were similarly recorded as omens. 

“Why?”

“I thought you didn’t care about the Celestials?” Radhildur parroted.

“Real mature for someone your age,” Frederich bit back, finally annoyed. He supposed he’d secured a spot at the gallows for being uncouth with a Royal. “Being interested is a foundational mark of a Scholar. I may not be a devotee to such fairytales, but the problem is presented by an unusual need.”

Radhildur frowned. “Problem? Need?”

Frederich leaned in, this time smiling smugly. “Yes. The problem, a plain commoner such as I have found myself dreaming into the mystical land of the Celestials. And this is all prompted by your need to understand previous fortellings. Curious is it not?”

“So you’re following this from a research point of view.” That amused glint was back in Radhildur’s gaze.

Frederich nodded. 

“Well, then, if you’re quite ready.” They gestured their arm once more, sliding their sword back into a belt loop at their hip—the peony silver disappearing once again beneath the cloak. “Those archives, little Scholar.”

“My name is Frederich, thank you for asking, highness.” He grimaced with annoyance.

Their eyes smiled again. “You may address me as Rathi when it is just us. Something tells me that we’ll be encountering each other far more than we’d care to.”

Frederich started in the direction of the archives without bothering to see if the royal pain was following. Cursed? No. Radhildur was not cursed. Just irritating.