With all the commotion around High Order Zorian’s death, Cyrene had had little time to work on her Affiliate studies. So, she fell headlong into Affiliate Lorne’s papers while still attending to court duties, feast days, and appointments with the Queen. After another week of slaving over the agricultural materials, Cyrene pushed the papers away from her in frustration. There was still so much to do, but her brain was turning to mush.
Walking into her bedroom, she loosened the floorboard that hid her Presenting letter and the book Elea had given to her on her birthday. She grasped the sheaf of paper and reread the note. Aralyn had said Cyrene could speak to other Affiliates about the letter if need be. Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.
Cyrene strode out of her room and then navigated the Vines until she found her sister’s room. She rapped on the door twice and waited. After several minutes, Aralyn opened the door. Her brown hair fell forward in front of her face as she stared at a book.
“Can I help you?” she mumbled.
“Aralyn, it’s Cyrene,” she said, trying to attract her sister’s attention.
“Oh, yes, Cyrene. Come in. Was I expecting you?” Not even looking up at Cyrene, Aralyn just left the door open and retreated back inside.
“All right,” Cyrene grumbled, following her, “you weren’t expecting me, but I wanted to pay you a visit.”
“Lovely.”
“Aralyn”—Cyrene waved her hand in the air—“can I have five minutes here?”
Aralyn sighed and then glanced up at Cyrene. “Sure. What is it?”
Cyrene withdrew the Presenting paper and handed it to her sister. “I was wondering if you could help me with this. It’s my Presenting letter.”
“Let me take a look.” Aralyn opened the paper and read through the contents. She bit out a harsh laugh. “This is gibberish, Cyrene. Don’t waste your time on it.”
“What?” Cyrene gasped. “You were the one who told me it was important.”
Aralyn handed back the paper. “It was part of a script I was given. I found nothing of use in my letter. You should focus on your Affiliate duties.”
“So, you won’t help?”
“There’s nothing to help, Cyrene. If you must investigate this, go dig through the library, but you’re wasting your time.”
“Fine,” Cyrene snapped.
She stuffed the paper back into her bag and stormed from the room. She couldn’t believe that Aralyn had just laughed at her after telling her how important it was in her Presenting. Cyrene knew there was something to these letters.
Cyrene left the Vines in search of the library. She had been inside the archives at the center of the castle several times, but she’d only looked at the agricultural volumes.
Her head swam with ideas as she walked in through the enormous circular doorframe. Filling the room, hundreds of rows several stories high were full of books stacked as far as the eye could see. It smelled like old leather, musty paper, and aging ink. She breathed in the aroma and then decided to start looking through Presenting materials.
After an hour of wasted time, she got more creative and looked up riddles and their interpretations, deciphering meaning from the text. The whole time, she wondered if Rhea had decrypted anything about her Presenting letter while she’d been in Albion. Cyrene had received no word from her friend, but she hadn’t sent any word either.
At least the King was preparing himself for the procession traveling to Albion, which meant she would get to see her best friend again soon. Hopefully, I’ll find some answers by then.
“Not finding them now,” she grumbled to herself as she slammed another massive volume back onto the shelf.
With a sigh, she left the stacks and went in search of an Affiliate. Perhaps someone could point her in the right direction.
She walked up to the first woman she found and smiled at the familiar face. “Affiliate Leslin,” she said in greeting to the woman behind the massive desk.
Leslin had been with Aralyn the night of Cyrene’s Presenting ball.
“Ah, Cyrene.” Leslin smiled up over her work. Her hair was frazzled, and she had an ink spot across the bridge of her nose and another on her dress. “Hello. How can I help you?”
“I am doing some research on Presenting letters and their interpretations. Do you happen to know where I could start? Or maybe, do you know who writes them, so I can speak with him or her?”
Leslin smiled pleasantly. “All the Presenting letter information we have is in aisle seventy-six, section three thousand forty. We always have new Affiliates and High Order coming in and asking questions about them. As for who writes them, it is an Elder of the First Class who was once a High Order or Affiliate. However, no audience is permitted with the Elder. Would you like me to look over your letter to help you with it?”
The letter in her bag was like a brick weighing her down. She didn’t feel right showing it to Leslin after Aralyn had just laughed at her. “No, thank you. I’ll keep looking.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I’m going to be on holiday for a short time to visit my daughter in the countryside, so I won’t be in the castle for a bit.”
Leslin’s eyes narrowed considerably, and her otherwise pleasant faced turned sour. “I’m in desperate need of a holiday, what with a murderer walking in our midst.”
Cyrene turned to see what she was talking about and saw Ahlvie striding into the library. She pursed her lips at Leslin’s reaction. Ahlvie hadn’t been convicted of anything. King Edric had let him go, but Leslin was judging Ahlvie based on an accusation.
He nodded his head at Cyrene when he noticed her and then looked at Leslin. His smile turned mischievous, and his youth showed through. He might have even been handsome, if he didn’t look like he was going to cause trouble.
“Hi ya, Leslie!”
“It’s Affiliate Leslin, High Order Ahlvie. There is an n attached, as I have told you the last hundred times you set foot in my library. What do you want?”
“Oh, Leslin. Right,” he said as if he hadn’t already known. “Just swinging by to get some more books.”
“What did you do with the other ones you borrowed?” she demanded.
“I read them,” he said, giving her a blank look.
Cyrene stifled a laugh behind her hand. Ahlvie flashed Leslin another grin, but Leslin just scowled at him. Cyrene saw this going poorly.
“Are you ever going to bring them back?” Leslin asked.
“I suppose—at least the ones that I didn’t lose.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Lose?” she cried. “Those books are invaluable. You…you…you man! It’s not enough to act like a drunken fool in my library and then murder a High Order. Now, you lose books?”
Ahlvie scrunched his eyebrows together. He looked bemused, but there was also a touch of anger at the accusation that he had been cleared of. “I never murdered anyone. It was only an investigation,” he reminded her. “And, hey, I’m not drunk now!”
Leslin pointed her finger to the door. “Get out of my library.”
“What? It doesn’t belong to you. I’m here on High Order business.”
“Get out!” She stood and hit her hand on the desk. “And don’t come back until you bring back the books you lost, or else do not return at all.”
Cyrene’s eyes widened at Leslin’s outburst.
Ahlvie ran his hand back through his hair. “Is this all because I called you Leslie?” His eyes twinkled.
“Out!”
Ahlvie shrugged and started walking backward. “Fine. I’m out of here. Crazy old loon.”
Leslin sank into her chair once more and covered her head with her hands.
“Are you all right?” Cyrene asked.
She thought that Leslin had been harsh with Ahlvie, but perhaps she was just on edge from the murder. Ahlvie hadn’t helped anything by needling her.
“Yes. I simply need that holiday,” she said.
Cyrene nodded at Leslin as if she understood, but her eyes were fixed on Ahlvie’s retreating form. For once, she felt a twinge of pity for the man everyone dismissed as a drunk.