“…What is this?”
The librarian had led us to the most hidden corner of the library — and yet it faced a window, so the light fell beautifully through. A genuinely lovely spot.
The problem was the seating.
The chairs in front of it were not, by any recognizable definition, chairs. They were closer to oversized cushioned pouches — what one might charitably describe as very large beanbags.
“Why would a library have something like this?”
“Your Highness has been such a dedicated patron — so much so that His Majesty increased the library’s budget for the next quarter.”
I had said that sarcastically. The librarian received it with an expression of radiant sincerity.
“It seemed right that a portion of the new budget should go toward improving comfort for Your Highness’s visits.”
“…And this was the result?”
“They were originally purchased for Your Highness alone. But they’re certainly large enough for two.”
They were. That was the problem. Two people sharing one would have to sit extremely close together.
We were not exactly a couple, no matter what the paperwork said. I glanced discreetly at Friedrich.
He seemed mildly caught off guard by the situation.
Then he caught my eye and startled slightly.
“If it’s uncomfortable… I can find another seat.”
“It’s not uncomfortable!”
What did he think he was saying, in front of other people?
I smiled quickly and took his hand.
“Why would it be uncomfortable to sit with my husband? Is it uncomfortable for you?”
Friedrich’s eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly. I turned back to the librarian.
“Thank you. The cushions look wonderfully soft.”
“Indeed, Your Highness. I tested every one personally before making my selection.”
“What extraordinary dedication…”
“For such a valued patron, it was the very least I could do.”
The librarian left looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
“Let’s go choose something to read.”
Friedrich nodded, and reached for my hand.
I turned instinctively to look at him. He lowered his gaze slightly, then spoke.
“I was careless just now. There were people watching…”
“It’s all right. The librarian is, as you saw, very favorably disposed toward me.”
“Even so. I’ll be more mindful.”
And then he held my hand demonstrably more firmly than before. I smiled in a slightly awkward way.
“He’s gone. And this time of day, there’s no one else here.”
“Someone could appear at any moment.”
“Won’t it make it harder to find books?”
“That’s fine. I intend to read whatever Your Highness chooses.”
I looked at him with mild curiosity.
“Whatever I choose?”
“Magic,” he said simply.
For a moment, my heart lurched. I looked at him with a careful expression.
“I thought — the curse is my problem to carry, but I’ve been letting you carry most of the weight of finding a solution. That didn’t seem right.”
…Oh. It wasn’t about my problem after all. The quiet relief I felt at that realization was slightly embarrassing. I shook my head.
“That’s not how I see it. You’re not a burden.”
“…The truth is—”
Friedrich dropped his gaze slightly and added:
“I also just wanted to spend more time with you.”
“…”
“Is that too much?”
“Not at all.”
I shook my head and hoped the smile I was wearing didn’t look as uncertain as it felt.
It might be too much for my heart — but I can’t say that out loud, or he’d take it literally.
“Then let’s do that. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll find an answer faster.”
I started toward the familiar shelves as I spoke.
“Ah — but I don’t read magic-related books exclusively. I don’t want people drawing conclusions, so I mix in other subjects.”
“What kind of books do you like?”
“Rural living guides?”
We arrived at the shelves and I began selecting what looked interesting. I loaded up one arm, and Friedrich simply lifted the whole pile from me without comment.
“It’s heavy. Let me carry some.”
“That’s why I’m carrying it.”
He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. I arrived back at the seating area with both hands entirely free.
But then I realized he hadn’t picked anything for himself.
“Oh — I only chose my books. Put those down and go choose yours.”
Friedrich shook his head. I looked at him, puzzled.
“What Your Highness has chosen is more than enough. May I read along with you?”
“Are you sure? I read quickly.”
He smiled faintly and nodded.
But surely reading together means each of us takes in the information at half the efficiency?
The thought occurred to me, but saying so out loud felt like it might make him quietly deflate, so I kept it to myself.
I settled into the beanbag. The soft, yielding surface caught me as I leaned back, wrapping around me like something that had been waiting to hold exactly this shape. This is actually remarkably comfortable.
It seemed the librarian had spent the money wisely. I looked over at Friedrich, still standing, and patted the space beside me.
“What are you doing? Come sit. This is genuinely comfortable.”
“…”
Friedrich’s face went a faint shade of pink, but he nodded and came to settle carefully beside me. A gentle scent of soap drifted close.
I decided to start with something easy rather than the denser magic texts — easier to settle into the reading that way. I opened the rural living guide to the chapter on growing chilli peppers.
When I’d finished the page, I read it to its end and murmured quietly:
“Turn the page?”
“…”
No reply. I thought perhaps he hadn’t finished and glanced over — and met Friedrich’s eyes directly.
The faint surprise in them told me something rather clearly.
“…Were you actually reading?”
It seemed possible that he had been looking at something rather closer than the page.
Friedrich nodded hastily. I regarded him with mild skepticism.
“Test. Do you grow chilli peppers from seed, or from seedling?”
“…Seed?”
“Wrong. Seeds tend not to take well. You use seedlings.”
This was in the first line of the section. He had not read a single word.
I studied the man who had clearly followed me to the library on false pretenses with a narrowed eye.
“Why did you come?”
“…To read.”
“Without having read the first line?”
“…I had difficulty concentrating.”
“Is your concentration always this poor?”
“Perhaps it’s been a while since I’ve read.”
“No. You just wanted to look at me rather than the book. Go choose something you actually want to read.”
“I did want to read this.”
Then how are you this unable to focus? I narrowed my eyes further, and Friedrich pressed his lips together, then admitted very quietly:
“…I really did want to read it.”
“Then read aloud. That tends to help with concentration.”
“May I?”
“No one else is here, and we’re in the corner. Go ahead.”
I put the book directly into his hands.
In Friedrich’s hands, the thick volume that I had needed to balance with effort looked small and light. He held it in one hand, and began to read.
“Chilli peppers favor warm conditions and are well-suited to summer cultivation. Water when the top layer of soil has dried.”
Why does his voice do that?
The low, unhurried sound of it settled against my ear, and my cheek went inexplicably warm.
It wasn’t a wasted voice — far from it. But it was perhaps a little too well-suited to better purposes than explaining the watering habits of chilli peppers.
If I’d known, I would have brought a novel.
“…Your Highness?”
I was pulled out of the thought by Friedrich saying my name. I looked at him.
He was looking back at me, steadily.
I swallowed and asked: “…What?”
“How many times should chilli peppers be fertilized?”
“…Three times?”
“Twice. That was just covered.”
The mortifying familiarity of the situation made my face burn. I had been caught in exactly the same position as him, moments ago.
Friedrich continued to look at me and added:
“You seemed distracted.”
“…I had other things on my mind.”
“Ah…”
Friedrich’s expression fell slightly, and then he said something entirely unreasonable.
“I suppose my reading voice isn’t particularly pleasant to listen to.”
“What are you talking about? It’s extraordinarily pleasant.”
“But it seems to work against your concentration.”
“Yes, because it’s too pleasant—”
I stopped. Closed my mouth.
I glanced carefully at Friedrich. He was wearing an expression of faint, uncomprehending blankness.
It dawned on me that he had genuinely believed his voice was unremarkable. How? He had ears. How had he convinced himself of that?
“I think we should each read separately.”
I reached over to take the book back from his hands.
But Friedrich had been holding it tightly, and released it a beat too late — and the shift in balance sent me tilting backward.
“Oh—”
A firm hand caught my back before I could fall.
I ended up nearly horizontal, looking up at Friedrich from extremely close. His violet eyes had gone very wide.
“Are you all right?”
…Why is he making his voice even lower.
The soap scent was stronger now. I felt my heart beating rather faster than usual, and slowly nodded.
