Hunter
How much further could the library be? It seemed like the midday crowds would never end, and everywhere they went, she was watching him. The blank paper eyes saying everything that she wouldn’t say to him now.
He did this, and that wasn’t even the worst part.
Hunter glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. She was, refusing to look at him, her hands shoved in her pockets now. He did this, and now he had to deal with the consequences.
It didn’t matter if his intentions had been good. It didn’t matter if his heart was in the right place. Right now, she was hurt, angry that this was going on around them, that her people were being turned against her and she was powerless to stop it. She didn’t have to say a word for him to see it. He knew her too well now.
He came to an intersection and turned onto a wide-open street, finally enough room to breathe without people crushing in on all sides. How anyone could like living in a city this size was beyond him. Too many people, too much noise, too many variables to consider at all times. And he hardly noticed any of them. All he could do was picture Snow walking behind him, her lips pursed, her eyes wounded. All he could think about was the look of sheer and complete terror she’d had on the shuttle, her face white as snow itself, shining with a cold sweat.
All he could focus on was how much he didn’t deserve her.
“Where to from here?” he asked, turning to face her. But she wasn’t behind him.
In a split-second, his heart slammed against his ribcage and he searched the street, fighting off a rising tide of panic. He couldn’t call out for her — not many people had the name Snow.
He cursed, running back to the intersection. Where had they gotten separated? He never should have just let her go like that. He should have insisted they stay locked together to prevent this.
“Over here,” her feeble voice called from a darkened corner.
“What are you doing? You nearly scared me to death.”
With the look she gave him, Hunter half expected her to growl as he approached. “Didn’t you see them?”
“Who?”
“The Guard,” she hissed.
He stepped out of the narrow alley and peered through the intersection again. She was right. There were members of the Queen’s Guard lining the wide-open street, heads on swivels.
How did he miss that?
“Guess I was distracted. Is there another way?”
He could see her pulling up the map in her head, searching for an alternate route. She finally nodded. “We need to backtrack a bit,” she said.
He took her hand this time and swore to himself that he wouldn’t let go again.
The only words spoken the rest of the way to the library were directions from Snow and questions about directions from him. Snow still seemed locked in that scared place, teetering on the edge of another panic attack, but if they could just get to the library, maybe she would calm down. Maybe he could calm her down.
“There,” she said.
The building was massive, dwarfing those around it, with huge marble columns and a grand set of stairs leading up to the entrance. Statues depicting war heroes flanked either side of the stairs, keeping sentinel over the place and a pair of glass doors large enough to drive a ship through, slid open to admit them entrance.
Snow sagged the moment they were in the door. Here, there were no guards, no crowds, not even any wanted posters. The floor was marble, like the columns outside, polished to a mirror finish. Straight ahead, there was a circular reference desk, occupied by a blue-skinned, red-haired alien woman. Somewhere, he’d heard of a world called Basniel with people like that.
She didn’t pay them any attention as they entered, and Hunter wasted no time pulling Snow into one of the endless aisles of bookshelves that filled the cavernous space.
“No one here is paying as much attention to those things as you are,” he said. Before she could protest, he added, “I don’t think anyone’s buying it. The Queen isn’t doing herself any favors.” Except for how unsettled it all seemed to make Snow. He didn’t know how else to make her relax, and until she did, she’d never solve the rest of this riddle. She needed to solve it; he sure as hell couldn’t.
Her expression remained skeptical, but there was nothing more he could say. She’d either snap out of this and be the leader they all needed her to be, or she’d stay locked up in her own fear. He knew what the Snow he knew would do. He just hoped she was still in there. They’d both been through a lot since Zomer and he didn’t know how much longer she could keep acting like it wasn’t all weighing on her heavily.
He couldn’t stand to see her there, lost, broken, helpless. Letting this one little thing get the best of her when she’d overcome so much worse. Was this just the last straw?
He started to walk away and she reached out for him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to face her. “Do you still think I can do this?”
With one hand on each of her shoulders, he looked straight into her eyes, searching for that spark. That fight that had been there since the beginning. “Of course I do. But it’s not what I think that matters. The Snow I know wouldn’t let anyone or anything stop her from her mission. She shoots first and asks questions later. She finds a way even when it seems like there is none. I have no doubt you can do this, but you have to believe it.”
She looked down, her shoulders sagging. He gave her a shake, just enough to make her look at him. To make her snap out of it. “You’re not going to be able to do anything unless you can learn to stop questioning yourself every turn. You have everything you need to be a great ruler, if only you could learn to trust yourself,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides.
“And what about you?” she snapped back. “I’m still supposed to trust you while you’re acting strange and not telling me what’s going on?”
He scowled. He wanted her to fight, but he didn’t want her to fight him. He looked away, towards the reference desk where the librarian still sat, oblivious to them both.
“Right, of course. You have something to say for everything else, but not for that. Figures,” she spat.
“What do you want me to say Snow?” he barked, too loudly. Loud enough that the librarian looked up from her desk, giving them a sharp glare with a “shhhh.”
He sent an apologetic look over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “You want me to tell you the Queen demanded I bring you to her immediately? You want me to tell you I have two days before I’m dead if I don’t? That my father practically has a blaster to his temple as we speak, waiting for my failure? Is that what you want to hear? Well there you go, Princess.”
Her jaw dropped, hanging free for a moment. “I—” She clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head, her eyes softening. “You’re right,” she said, looking down again.
Hunter raked his fingers through his hair with a groan. “No, you’re right. I should have told you sooner. I just… I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this one.”
Snow reached for his hand and squeezed, that familiar determination taking hold in the set of her jaw, in the fierceness of her gaze. “We will. Trust,” she said simply.
Hunter gave her a stiff nod, his airway tight as he choked back gratitude. He really didn’t deserve her. Beneath her shawl, Snow sent him a little smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes “Let’s go figure out this clue,” she said.
“What’s the next part?”
“Secrets are hidden until they’re seen and the flowers of the past bloom when it’s darkest.”
Hunter frowned. “What kind of secret wouldn’t be hidden until it’s seen? I mean, isn’t that the point of a secret?” They started winding through the aisles, Snow’s fingertip trailing along the cloth book spines, each step clicking on the marble floor.
“Well… Yeah…” she muttered. “But it does let us know there is a secret.”
“This whole thing is supposedly secret,” he said. No matter how much she tried to explain it to him, Hunter was sure he was never really going to understand riddles. None of it made any sense.
“But this isn’t a secret that can be told or merely known,” she said, ignoring him, talking to herself, her voice thoughtful as she considered the possibilities of each thing she said. It was beautiful to watch her mind work. “It has to be seen.”
Hunter shook his head. “That means nothing to me.”
“Just keep your eyes peeled for anything unusual,” she said.
They walked up another wide sweeping staircase behind the reference counter. At the first landing, it split off in both directions, leading up to another open level of bookshelves. They stopped at the landing to admire the mural that stretched from the farthest reach of the left staircase all the way to the end of the right. It was at least thirty feet tall, the men depicted in it larger than life.
Snow’s breath hitched and her hand flattened against the wall. “He doesn’t look like I remember,” she said, her neck craned backwards.
The man she was staring at was young in the mural. Maybe even younger than Hunter. He wore a close-fitting jumpsuit suitable for space flight and a stern-yet-victorious expression.
“King Stuart,” Hunter said, recognizing Snow’s eyes, the shape of her lips, that indomitable slant of her brow. Seeing him through that lens was nothing short of bizarre for Hunter.
“His hair was darker,” she whispered. “And he smiled all the time. At least…” She didn’t finish the sentence and Hunter didn’t fill it in for her. He knew. The loss of Queen Adriana had rocked the whole Empire, but no one was shaken as much as their beloved King himself.
“Maybe he meant secret like… in a book?” Hunter tried. Snow was spellbound by the mural, and as much as he wanted to give her the moment, they didn’t really have time to waste. The Queen knew where they were and what they were looking for. She might buy his story for now, but a shift in the wind could change her heart. And stop his.
Snow nodded. “Maybe,” she said, turning from the wall. “Where is he looking? Maybe it’s something related to what he’s seeing?”
“Good thinking,” said Hunter, looking over his shoulder, and back, trying to follow the King’s line of sight. “Maybe that section back there?” He pointed and they set off.
The second level had wooden floors, covered in patterned rugs the colors of autumn, but the shelves were all lined up the same way as below, twice as tall as any man.
“So do you think it’s in a book?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. How do you hide a device in a book? But it’s a better guess than nothing.”
That wasn’t exactly reassuring.
They restarted their circuitous path, meandering through the bookshelves, looking for anything out of place, anything that might mean something.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he kept seeing movement. The librarian reshelving books. Nothing to worry about, he told himself.
But by the end of the fourth long line of bookshelves, he was sure they were being followed.
He leaned down, his lips nearly brushing the shell of Snow’s ear as he whispered, “Don’t look now Princess, but we have company.”
She jumped at his voice and turned her head slightly, but he squeezed her hand tight to stop her. “I said don’t look,” he hissed.
“What do we do?” she whispered back.
“Just act natural.”
They adopted a strange path that backtracked and crisscrossed over the library, but everywhere they went, the librarian wasn’t far behind. After almost an hour of this, still acting like she was merely reshelving books, the librarian acknowledged them.
“Is there something I can help you find?” she asked, her voice nearly hoarse from neglect.
Snow straightened her shoulders, giving Hunter a look that said she would handle it. “Oh, we’ve just heard so many people talking about how magnificent and awe-inspiring this place is. We couldn’t pass up a visit ourselves,” she said.
The librarian narrowed her eyes. Close up, she was older than Hunter would have guessed. Maybe old enough to be either of their mothers. Her bright yellow eyes roamed over Snow’s shawl and their generally unkempt appearance. There hadn’t been much chance for showering or laundry. His ship wasn’t really built for long hauls.
The librarian took another step closer, now within arm’s reach. “It is you, isn’t it?” she whispered, letting out a supersonic squeal.
Snow’s eyes went wide and she slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I mean… I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure. What are the odds, right? Here of all places. But hearing your voice… You’re her, aren’t you? The Princess.” A grin split her face and Snow took a step back, shuffling, trying to come up with something to say but failing.
Hunter reached behind his back, casually going for his blaster. They did not come this far to be outed by a librarian.
“Don’t worry,” she added quickly, still beaming. “I won’t tell. I just can’t believe you’re here!” She stopped and looked around, peering over the balcony and finding the rest of the place as empty as it had been before they arrived. “Why are you here? Don’t you have better things to do? Like… take down you-know-who? We’re all rooting for you, you know. That trash on the vidscreens… No one believes it. We’re not as dumb as she wants to believe.”
Hunter let his hand fall. “We should go,” he said, reaching for Snow and pulling her toward the stairs. But she pulled back, her feet staying firmly rooted in place.
“Wait. Maybe she can help us. Maybe she knows what it means,” Snow said.
“I don’t think that’s—”
She leaned in close, talking under her breath. “You told me I need to trust my instincts and I am,” she said, her eyes challenging him to argue.
Instead, he clamped his jaw shut, gritting his teeth together. What could he really say? She was just giving him what he wanted, after all. Infuriating, but he had to admire her spirit.
“I’m Molly,” the librarian said, thrusting her hand forward.
“Nice to meet you, Molly,” Snow said, shaking it. “We’re trying to find something my father left here, but he didn’t exactly tell us where. Maybe knowing something about this place would help. What can you tell us about this library?”
Molly’s eyes widened until it looked like they were going to pop right out of her head. “You mean you don’t know the story?” she asked, breathless.
“What story?” Snow asked, looking as confused as Hunter felt. This whole thing seemed like a terrible idea, but Snow wanted to pursue it and he did tell her to trust herself. It would do no good for him to start doubting her now.
The librarian looked around again, this time leaning over the railing, craning her neck to make sure they were completely alone. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it. It’s been erased from the records… I think she was jealous, but this place was too much of a landmark to shut down without backlash from this side of the Empire.”
“Jealous? Who? What are you talking about?” Snow asked all the questions, Hunter was staying out of this.
Molly stepped further into the stacks, until her voice could be muffled by the thick tomes on all sides. “Your father,” she said. “He built this place for your mother. A wedding gift. There were others, all over the Empire, but this is the only one left. There wouldn’t be any record of it or anything, but I think the Queen destroyed the others. This one is special though, because of the war memorial.” She pointed back to the mural and swept her open palm toward the statues that flanked different areas of the library.
“After the war, the Givvan governor commissioned the statues and murals that decorate the building now. Say what you will about the Queen — and there’s plenty to say, believe me — but I think she had some affection for the King. I think she cared about him, as much as she’s ever cared about anyone, really. She didn’t want to destroy his memory here.”
Hunter flexed his hand. He had a lot of things to say about the Queen at this point, and none of them were nearly as kind as what Molly was saying.
But the librarian continued without pause, walking down the aisles as if she were giving a tour. Maybe before the Queen took over there were tours with this story. It certainly seemed practiced.
“When Queen Adria— When your mother passed, the King asked that there be a garden on the grounds in her memory,” Molly said.
“A garden?” Snow perked up. Hunter just scowled. It wasn’t the time for sightseeing. “Like with flowers?” she added, sending a pointed look his way. Right. The clue. The flowers of the past…
Molly nodded, her smile fading. “It was a beautiful garden. So many people would come and relax with nature in the middle of the day. We don’t have many parks here in Givva City, you know. Not much in the way of nature.”
He watched Snow’s hopes deflate before his very eyes. “What do you mean, ‘was’?”
“Well,” said Molly, shuffling from one foot to the other like she was under scrutiny now, “when the King died, the Queen didn’t destroy the library itself… But she did order the garden removed. Claimed there was an invasive species she didn’t want accidentally spreading to other places in the Empire. Bunch of rubbish if you ask me. But…”
“But what?” Hunter asked, his patience wearing thin. If the garden was ripped up, any device hidden there would be long gone. And their hopes of taking down the Queen with it. There was no way they’d make it past another roadblock at this point. The Queen would have him dead before he could even come up with an alternative plan.
Molly’s mouth twisted into an uncertain frown. “Maybe you should come with me. It would be easier to show you.”