Viktor opened the doors to the library, and I swallowed back down my heart as he beckoned me inside. From what I could tell we were in the west wing, where most of the vampires had their rooms and I quickly followed him. I wasn’t exactly comfortable being surrounded by so many vampires, but if working in the library would allow me to stay, then I would simply keep my head down, and hope no one bothered me.

“Are you listening?” I jumped as I heard Viktor talking to me, and he was watching me with a neutral expression. I quickly looked away again, playing with the edge of my sleeves.

“I-I’m sorry, can you repeat what you said?” I whispered softly and the prince sighed in response, obviously frustrated. Great way to convince him I was worth keeping.

“I asked if you had a favorite book. I’m not going to let you near our other books until I see your writing,” he repeated and I frowned, tugging on the material more.

“I’ve… only read one book, your majesty. The Matriarch… didn’t like books,” I admitted, feeling slightly ashamed. It wasn’t a lie; my grandmother said books bred rebellion and all the matriarchs controlled what books and how many books anyone could read. Even in school, we were heavily limited on what subjects could be taught, and I knew there were large holes in my education. It didn’t dampen my desire to learn however, and I managed to sneak a book my brother borrowed from a friend. It was definitely a forbidden book, and I read it in my corner while he slept. It was that book that inspired me to steal the journal and pencil, practicing my own writing as a way to escape reality.

“What was it called?” Viktor seemed to ignore what I said and I took a deep breath as I released my sleeve.

“Lonely Hundred.” I answered quietly, and I carefully sat down at the table the prince motioned to. He then continued into the library, turning on lights as he moved further into the mansion. I took the chance to glance around, the smell of books almost putting me at ease.

It was easy to see that the library had been remodeled recently, likely to add in the electrical lights. There were still candle stands and lanterns hanging unlit, meaning no one had a chance to remove them yet. The shelves were also ancient, with some being a standard bookshelf, while others reminded me of wine cellar shelves, holding scrolls instead of books. I wondered if those were the texts the queen expected me to transcribe as I heard Viktor start to return.

He carefully set the book on the table in front of me before retrieving the object his mother had given him. It looked to be an ornate fountain pen, and I was awed as I carefully took it when he offered it to me. He then set a single sheet of paper in front of me before sitting down on the other side of the table.

“Fill the paper, and I’ll decide if your handwriting is worth the effort,” he sighed, and I noticed as he produced another book, relaxing in his chair as he started to read. I looked at the pen in my hand, admiring how nice it looked. I wondered if it had internal ink and I noticed Viktor expected me to write with it despite not giving me an inkwell.

I opened the book to the first page, smiling as I saw the first line of the chapter. It was the story of a man who found himself drawn back to his childhood home, discovering a conspiracy surrounding his parents and a rare artifact they found when he was a child. The mystery and thrilling story had kept me locked in its fantasy world, and I loathed every morning when I was forced to return the book to its place. I would spend all day at school thinking of the book, waiting eagerly for my family to fall asleep so I could sneak into my brother’s room and steal it away again.

“The wind howled as he walked, the blackness of the dark night seeming to spread in front of him like infinity…” I whispered the words softly to myself as I began to write, not wanting to disturb the prince as he read. I knew I could fit the whole chapter on the page if I wrote in the tiny handwriting I was used to, but I forced myself to write with larger letters. After all, my goal was not to fit as many words as I could on the page, but to make the writing readable.

The library was hauntingly quiet as I worked on copying the words, the only sounds being the pen moving along the page and the quiet movements of the prince as he turned the pages of his own book. After a moment, I glanced up at him, curious to know what he was reading. His expression was soft and focused as he read his book, and I noticed he was leaning forward now, all of his hair pushed back from his face.

His skin was more flushed than the first time I saw him, as if he had freshly fed and the thought made my stomach churn. It made him look more alive than the ethereal pale beauty his mother had, but he was still very pale. The slightest bit of stubble graced his jawline and I found myself curious how old he was. Did vampires really live for hundreds of years, or were their lifespans more like wolves? Most wolves could live to two hundred, and I thought back to the queen’s wedding ring. No one had mentioned a King of the Night; was he out of the mansion at the moment, or had he passed away?

“Are you done?” I was pulled from my thoughts as the prince spoke, and I realized he was still looking at his book, not even bothering to look up at me. I cleared my throat as I looked back down at my paper, picking it up from the table as I handed it to him.

He carefully marked his place in the book with a thin bookmark, looking up to take the paper from me. My heart pounded as he looked it over, my anxiety returning as I waited for his judgment. Should I have paid more attention to my letters? I had chosen to print, but I tended to let my letters flow together with loops and swirls. Was that too fancy? Did it make it eligible?

“Your handwriting is curious, but legible,” he nodded, setting the paper back on the table as I sighed with relief. I had passed! “However, your sixes look a lot like a capital G, so try to make them more distinctive.”

“I will,” I nodded as the prince stood again, reaching to take the book away from me. Without thinking, I snatched it away from him, clutching it close to my chest. I watched as his hand hovered where the book once had been and I kept my eyes on the table, too afraid of what I would see if I looked up to meet his expression. “I’m… sorry, but can I… can I keep this one?”

“You want to read a book you’ve already read?” He scoffed, the judgment in his tone making me frown as I held the book tighter.

“This is the only book I’ve ever read,” I corrected, still refusing to look up at him as I pouted. How dare he judge me; he had a whole library to choose from! “And I was forced to read it in hiding. It’s not like I got to enjoy it.”

“Clearly you enjoyed it enough to want to read it again,” the prince retorted and I turned away from him, as if to keep him from taking the book from me. I heard as he shook his head and sighed, walking away from the table. “Go ahead and take it to your room. Just make sure you return it when you’re done.”

I slowly relaxed my hold on the book as he disappeared into the shelves again, taking the time to look at the cover. I traced my hand along the shape of the dark house, a small smile coming to my face. I didn’t really care what the prince thought; it meant enough that I could read the book again, and actually enjoy it this time. I didn’t have to read it in secret or in small chunks under the light of a match. I slowly stood from the table, eager to drop off the book in my room.

He could judge me all he wanted.