“What’s the commotion?” Mellifera appeared at the door, regal and cool as always, dressed in a gown that shimmered like a midnight ocean. “Lower your weapons! This is my beloved sister, and my dear mortal librarian. Come in, come in! See my new throne room.”
The guards exchanged an indecipherable look, then lowered their spears and moved aside. Mellifera disappeared into the chamber, still chattering, and Sela sheathed her sword. She glared at the guards. “You collaborate with the Mist Realm now?”
One guard lowered his eyes. “We are bound to serve Mellifera . . . whatever we may think of her orders.”
Sela sighed. “True enough. That’s one reason I’m not a princess anymore, Emily—I don’t like the idea of binding people to my will. Let everyone be free, I say. Come on.” She led the way, and Emily followed, gasping at the opulence beyond the door. The room was as big as a ballroom, perhaps enhanced with illusory or spatial magic, and it was full of magical and mundane light: shining chandeliers, standing lamps, countless candles, floating orbs of light. The walls were all mirrored, reflecting the luminosity, and the only furniture in the room shone: two thrones, side by side, both mostly gold, one rather more large and ornate than the other.
Mellifera sat on the smaller of the two chairs. “It’s so good to see you, Sela. I have so much to tell you! I’ve fallen in love. He’s a mortal, and I know you disapprove, but he has the most wonderful ideas. We’re going to kill Mother, you see, and then I will rule as queen, though my sweet Rudolph will be king—isn’t it time we had a king? We will ally the mortal and the fey and misty realms forever, tearing down all the walls that separate us—”
Sela said, “Mellifera, where’s the book of poems?”
“What do you mean, dear sister? If you need a book, you should ask Emily. I want her to be our personal palace librarian, you know. Once Rudolph has all the books moved here, I’m sure he’ll need someone to help organize them—”
“Murmured Under the Moon!” Sela said. “Where is it?”
Mellifera scowled, and the lights all around them dimmed. “Don’t speak of my past . . . infatuations, sister. I wouldn’t want to make Rudolph jealous.” She brightened, and the room did with her. “We should discuss plans for my wedding!”
Sela tried again. “You’ve been enchanted, Mellifera, by mortal magic—”
“Oh, nonsense. I enthrall. I am not enthralled myself. Now, I was thinking, we could hold the ceremony in the old winter palace. . . .”
Emily cleared her throat. “Could I see the library? If I’m going to be working here, it would be nice to have a look.”
“Oh, of course, dear.” Mellifera gestured to the right. “One of the guards will show you the way.”
Sela shot her a warning look, but Emily just offered a reassuring smile. If Llyfyr was trapped here, she’d be in the library.
One of the slender Folk in armor glided toward her and gestured. When they were some distance from the thrones, he whispered, “Please set her free.”
“I’ll try,” she murmured, though saving her boss was less important to her than saving her love.
The guard pressed on a mirror, and it swung open. She stepped through into what looked like the library of a great country house, a handsome room with towering wooden shelves, lamps, long wooden tables, and club chairs. There were thousands of volumes, and a quick perusal of a nearby shelf assured her that most, if not all, were from the fairy library. She went deeper into the room and realized there was some spatial trickery here: there were freestanding walls of shelves, forming passages and corridors, winding deeper and deeper through the house.
She’d been unable to summon Llyfyr from outside, but now that she was in the library, perhaps the binding spells didn’t apply. She touched her charm and whispered for Llyfyr.
Her lover appeared before her, looking like a black-and-white photograph of a classic movie star, with dark pageboy curls and a pale gown, but her face was, as always, unmistakable. She embraced Emily fiercely. “They came for me, Mellifera’s soldiers, and I was dragged here. There’s a man—”
“And what a man I am.” A sallow twentysomething with messy hair stepped around a shelf. He wore an old-fashioned red velvet dressing gown and held a shotgun, as incongruous a sight as Emily had ever seen. “This gun is loaded with iron shot. It’s meant to cripple fairies, but it would work fine on you, too. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I’m—my name is Emily. I’m a librarian.”
“Ah, you must be Mellifera’s pet. Did the court send you to find the book of poems? Librarians are supposed to be good at finding books. I’m sure you’ll manage. It’s probably tucked away here somewhere. You only have thousands of volumes to sort through.” He cocked his head. “They wouldn’t have sent you alone, though, and why didn’t the Mist Folk kill you when you entered?”
The book tucked under Emily’s arm squirmed, and she let it fall. Connie shape-shifted into her humanoid form and stepped between Emily and Rudolph. “I killed your guards. Give us the book of poems, or I’ll kill you.”
“No.” Rudolph lifted the gun and fired, and though Connie moved with inhuman speed, she was still hurt from her fights with the Mist Folk, and she wasn’t fast enough. The iron shot tore through her, and she spun, changing back into a book before she hit the ground, her pages tattered and torn.
Llyfyr shrieked, but Emily just stared. Connie was one of hers, one of the volumes under her protection, and this arrogant prick had hurt her. She looked up as Rudolph took shells from his pocket and broke open the shotgun to reload. “Mellifera is fond of you,” he said, “the way my mother is fond of her cats, but she loves me, and she’ll understand if I have to kill you—”
Emily touched the locket at her throat and called the books to her.
All of them. All at once.
She held out her open hands before her, toward Rudolph. Thousands of books blinked out of existence, leaving the shelves around them bare, and then reappeared in midair. Emily and Llyfyr dove out of the way as books rained down, landing on Rudolph’s head and shoulders, knocking the gun from his hands, driving him to his knees, and burying him under a mountain of hardbound volumes that towered taller than Emily’s head.
She winced at the sight of the books piling up, but almost all of them were protected by preservative magics to keep the pages from tearing or deteriorating, which should minimize the damage.