I remained still for several minutes following their dismissal, allowing for ample time for them to distance themselves from my hall. My hand clasped the doorknob, the gilded iron cold to the touch as I haltingly rotated it. The lock clicked to release the bolt. I gently pressed my ear to the door, suspicious of any movement I might’ve alerted. With the coast clear, I proceeded with opening the door.

The sconces have since gone out so I move to light an oil lamp from my nightstand, leaving the door ajar. With my light in hand, I took one final glance around the hall before treading forward. As I pass the sleeping quarters, I contemplate which ones are currently housing other guests, particularly curious if any might be conscious of my presence. However, I’m not too keen on finding out, and try to hasten my pace.

A corridor to my right appears, just as Beatrice had advised it would. To my glee, at the end is a grand entrance, the hallmark of a communal area. I eagerly made my way towards the doorway, and gently pushed it open. The doors open, revealing the warm cascade of lanterns. Book shelves twice my height filled the space, creating a labyrinth within the room. Towards the center, a candlelit chandelier hangs from the ceiling, with small drips of wax speckling its spindly hooks.

Gazing around at the study, a man, who perks up from his reading, catches my attention. He sits at a mahogany desk wearing a black vest over a white button up.

“Good evening,” he starts to say, seemingly curious about my intrusion. I notice how he furrows his brows at me before shutting his book, cautiously rising from his seat. “Might you be the prospective Lady of House Barclay?”

“Ah, yes,” I said, and curtseyed, flattered, “Might you be the bookkeeper, here?”

“Of course, My Lady,” he replied, now with a more courteous tone. “How may I be of service?” he asked, straightening the lapels of his cover. Setting the oil lamp down on a nearby desk, I pause before addressing him.

“Perhaps,” I started, considering what I shall research first. “You could begin by familiarizing me with texts regarding the interests of neighboring countries?” I suggested with a smile.

“Certainly,” he said, rising to oblige me, excusing himself from behind his desk. He swiftly makes his way towards me, politely saying, “You must excuse my nescience, My Lady, I don’t regularly accommodate guests this late.” His sudden rushed behavior is seemingly compensatory, as though he was culpable for not anticipating my arrival. “Let alone a high ranking noble, such as yourself,” he added.

“You mustn’t concern yourself with such formalities,” I offered, putting him at ease. “I am in complete agreement that it is certainly late,” I yawned, my exhaustion beginning to creep up on me.

“Certainly, My Lady,” he said, agreeing, walking ahead of me as he reached for a ladder. “If you don’t mind my asking, what might have led you to visit at such an hour?”

I watched as he hoisted himself up the ladder, scanning for titles. “This time of day indisputably doesn’t make for the greatest lighting,” he joked, making conversation.

“Ah, well,” I began, struggling to come up with a lie as I grappled with my tiredness, “I must say I prefer the tranquility of the night.” This was mostly in part true. Not only would the evening provide suitable peace in reading, it almost guaranteed His Grace wouldn’t bother me with his incessant pursuit.

“You make a good argument, My Lady,” he replied from overhead, “I cannot deny the serenity that accompanies the moon during its ascension. Might there be a particular country you seek knowledge about?”

“Ah, yes,” I contended, my purpose centered around the nearest country, “I merely wish to refresh myself with the current affairs of our closest allies. Diplomacy may serve as our best asset, and I intend to make use of it,” I added, cementing my reason for being there.

“As to be expected of a lady of such refinement,” he commends me, to my content. “I see His Grace was right to select you as the next duchess.” The calm I knew collapsed at the mention of the young duke as my expression regressed into a scowl. “Not that there was ever any doubt, My Lady,” he added, still talking about my nobility.

Unbeknownst to him, his regard for my status fell on deaf ears for I couldn’t be less concerned. I crossed my arms and began glancing around the area for anything to hold my attention while he searched. Beyond the hundreds of books on these shelves, it appears the library is quite empty. There are seemingly no other souls apart from us within these walls.

While he is immersed in his quest, I take the liberty to traipse around the room. I peered past the shelves and noticed another door towards the back. Given its grandeur, I surmise it’s another main entrance, but what lay beyond those doors, I couldn’t be certain.

“Aha,” the bookkeeper remarked, signaling for me to circle back. He pulled out a book and examined it before holding it out to me. “How’s this? Does this seem to be what you’re looking for?” I leant my head closer in curiosity, reading the title aloud. It appeared to discuss treaties and history relating to our kingdom, Gloria, with our nearest ally, Sienelle.

“Hmm…” I paused, assessing the text. “Yes, I think this is a good start for what I’m looking for.”

“A start?” he repeats, impressed, “What else might be of interest to you, My Lady?”

I go over in fair detail a summary of what I mean to borrow from his collection.

Books on bordering settlements within the kingdom, maps of regular trade routes, and the economies within local towns that would serve my true purpose. He follows my orders and procures books based on each of my given descriptions. With the books entrusted to me, I would be able to discern which villages might prove to be useful waystations during my escape, and to assess which paths were too heavily populated to traverse as well as scout the most effective towns to sell my wares. I would be embracing the delay His Grace imposed on my undertaking and take careful thought in evaluating each phase.

My gaze lingers on the books within the crook of my elbow, a familiar sense of despair creeps over me. It’s not enough. These books will not shield me from His Grace’s words of foreboding, no matter how intently I deliberate on such matters.

“Is that all you require, My Lady,” the bookkeeper interjects, likely growing weary this late in the night.

“Yes,” I tell him, careful to disguise my anguish, “This has all been very constructive.” Constructive being the least accurate term to describe this.

“Alright. ” He stepped down the rungs of the ladder, “Then perhaps I shall close up shop upon your departure.”

“Of course,” I conceded, allowing myself to succumb to the whispers of sleep. “I bid you goodnight.”

I venture back to my bedroom with the books in tow. The faint glow of the oil lamp assists my navigation of the halls as I retrace my steps. In my approach to my destination, I notice how I tread with less stealth than before. I reason it’s possibly the weight of my exhaustion that inhibits me, but maybe it’s the reality that my night time escapade was not a success. These books wouldn’t further my ambitions, nor would they inspire revolt. In truth, they rather smothered what little courage I had left. Within my arms, there’s nothing to note besides my independent procurement of them. This task alone wouldn’t even be regarded as unusual for someone who has an affinity for reading. Such as the lady of refinement that I am, I had simply visited the library.

I reached the room assigned to His Grace’s fiancée, and turned the handle. The room is eerily quiet, lifeless without its inhabitant. Heaving the texts onto a nearby desk, my gaze lingers on its only window. The moon shines brightly, indifferent to my dark melancholy. I watch as it remains composed in its singlehood, unfazed by the night sky’s encroachment to quell her light. For all her gall, she cannot even claim ownership over her glow, merely reflecting what belongs to someone else.

Eventually, she shall seclude herself behind the horizon, only to be met with the same fight upon dusk’s return. Never does her struggle subside, and neither does mine. Her constant strife is hardly admirable. Rather it would appear her will was seemingly born out of ignorance. Perhaps that is our fate. Pulling away from the glass panes, I take no comfort in our shared misery, and surrender myself to my bed’s embrace.