The Queen's Librarian (28 page)

“God, the
gold
,” Lucas sighed then quickly realized his mistake. “I mean no! No, of course not, you—” He thumped Alex on the chest hard enough to make him grunt. “You know better than that. And there was no ‘romantic past’. It was one kiss, for pity’s sake, years and
years
ago. I’m only… I’m not used to the idea that I’m not technically poor anymore.” He groaned. “God, Parry was right about that—Mother and the girls are going to go absolutely
mad
. They’ll have me spent back into debt by next week, you watch.”

“Only you could take such fortunate and unlooked-for news and turn it into something new to worry about.” It was fond. So was the “
Parry
was your first kiss, Lucas?
Really
?”

Alex’s hand was wandering. Which was, after Lucas paused to think about it for a half a second, good news indeed, so he let the previous comment slide.

“I’m thinking you don’t really want that breakfast,” Lucas said and stretched into the caress with a sigh.

Alex bit Lucas’s shoulder. “I’m thinking I’d much prefer the room.”

T
HEY
never made it off the floor of the Library. Which was fine, since the table blocked the view from the doorway. And Bramble politely didn’t watch.

It was also, actually, sort of too bad, too, when Lucas thought about it later. They’d never done it in a Royal Bedroom before.

Epilogue

T
HEY
woke in time for lunch. Which, they were informed, they would be sharing with the Queen and the Prince Consort. Privately.

There was probably a very good reason for the shudder that went through Lucas, but he was still too tired to suss it.

Luckily, Alex somehow came up with a ribbon so Lucas could tie his hair back and look at least a tiny bit presentable. Nothing he could do about the rumpled clothes, though. Alex’s hair, Lucas noted with a curl of his lip, was still bloody perfect.

It just wasn’t fair.

They entered the Royal Family’s receiving room to find Slade and Laurie collapsed together on the velvet couch. Cackling.

And Cráwa was merely standing there.
Staring
at them.

Lucas paused in the doorway. “Something funny?”

Laurie and Slade didn’t even acknowledge the intrusion, but Cráwa turned to peer at Lucas and Alex with an expression that would probably be nonplussed on a normal person, but on Cráwa, it just looked halfway to supercilious.

“They were… dueling,” he said then turned back around to stare some more.

Lucas and Alex did some staring themselves. “Did Laurie just tweak Slade’s nose?” Alex asked.

“Cráwa, did you…?” Lucas watched Slade throw his arm around Laurie and Laurie sink into hysterical laughter into Slade’s shoulder. He turned to Cráwa. “Did you get them
drunk
?”

“Ah.” It was probably impossible for Cráwa to look embarrassed, but at least the arrogance lost its edge. “They decided on an ill-advised contest of magic.”

Translation: they’d been trying to one-up each other, probably by zapping each other on the arse with bolts of magic.

“They would not desist,” Cráwa said, “so I overloaded their magic, which….” He waved his hand at the two of them and rolled his eyes. “Amounts to the same thing, I expect.”

Lucas gave Laurie and Slade a speculative once-over. “Will they have hangovers?”

Again, Cráwa looked at the two young men melting into mutual puddles of hoots and snickers and “I love ya, y’know, you’re the best friend ever” and again, something flickered over Cráwa’s face that would have been discomfort on a normal person, but on Cráwa it only looked like a different degree of condescension. “Yes,” he said with a lift of his chin.

Lucas only stared for a moment then tipped a short, sharp nod. “Good.” He tugged on Alex’s sleeve. “Come on, then,” he said and pulled him into the dining room.

They were greeted by the Queen, who kissed both of Lucas’s cheeks. “You look tired.” She patted his head.
Again
. Lucas decided not to scowl at her. She was the Queen. Which meant she was allowed to do anything she wanted. Including patting nephews on the head, no matter how annoyed it made them. “Uncle is over there, darling.”

“Ah, Lucas!” the Prince Consort called from his fat, overstuffed chair by the fire. He lowered his paper as he squinted up at Lucas and rooted through his jacket pocket. He came up with a lemon drop and tucked it into Lucas’s palm with a pat. “So nice to see you, my boy.”

When Lucas was very small, he’d found the massive bushes of sideburns running down the sides of the Prince Consort’s face a tiny bit… disturbing. Which had resulted in rather a lot of crying and hiding behind the Queen—which was
not
the same as a tantrum, no matter what Nan said—which had resulted in the Prince Consort establishing a routine of distraction-by-candy, which had resulted in a wee, smiling Lucas who then had no compunction about cuddling on the Prince Consort’s lap, which had resulted in many coos and “
daaar-
lings!” from the Queen, which had resulted in a happy Prince Consort and a happy Queen and a not-horribly-disappointed Mother. And since the Prince Consort seemed to be under the perpetual impression that Lucas was still a four-year-old boy, to this day, Lucas still got the candy.

So, basically, everybody won.

“You just saw me last Mid’s Day, Uncle,” Lucas pointed out. He took the candy anyway.

“So I did, so I did,” said the Prince Consort. He peered over Lucas’s shoulder and reached back into his pocket. “Would your little friend like a lemon drop?”

Lucas kept in the snort but he didn’t dare look at Alex. “Right,” Lucas managed. “Royalty and manners and comportment and all that.” He cleared his throat. “Your Majesties.” Lucas dipped at the waist in a formal bow then opened a hand toward Alex. “I would like to formally present—”

“Yes, yes, dear, this is your Mister Booker your mother has been on about.” The Queen patted at the Prince Consort’s shoulder. “See there, Muffin, he doesn’t seem at all the sort who would lead our Lucas astray and away from his home, where he belongs.”

Now Lucas
had
to look at Alex, and was rather surprised when Alex’s face didn’t display any of the affront or indignation Lucas had been expecting. Instead, Alex turned to Lucas with eyes wide as saucers and mouthed
Muffin
?

“Yes,” said the Prince Consort with a rumbling
harrumph
, “but does he want
candy
?”

Alex’s eyes widened even more when he found himself on the receiving end of three expectant stares—two of them royal. Alex bowed. “Thank you, Sire, I would be honored.”

The Prince Consort gave him a sour look and shoved a candy at him. “It’s only a lemon drop. Don’t get so excited.”

“Um,” said Alex, looking around for help, and when there wasn’t any, he shoved the lemon drop in his mouth. “Mm,” he said.

“Do sit down, dears,” said the Queen and waved at the couch across from the Prince Consort. “Tea?” Alex seemed a bit gobsmacked when she served it herself from the service on the table, so much, in fact, that he couldn’t seem to remember if he took sugar or not.

“Two for him,” Lucas supplied and patted Alex’s knee. “Have you made any progress with Mister Scontun, then, Aunt?”

“It depends on what you mean by ‘progress’, I suppose.” The Queen sipped at her tea. “Slade has received his father’s permission to stay and marry. The peace will remain, as well, though that was a given, honestly. There was never really a true threat of anything more dangerous than a lot of glaring from both sides of the portal, but it’s nice to have it confirmed out loud.”

“Too much peace these days,” said the Prince Consort with a shake of his head. “Everyone’s gone soft. Nothing a good war couldn’t fix.”

“We’ve never been at war, Uncle,” Lucas reminded him.

“Exactly!” said the Prince Consort. He lowered his paper and stared up at the ceiling with a calculating glint. “Perhaps I shall start one.” He peered over at the Queen and lifted his bushy white eyebrows. “The ambassador from Qest’trel will be here next week. Shall I punch him in the nose for you, love?”

The Queen sipped more tea. “He would likely only punch you back, dear,” she told him placidly.

The Prince Consort pinched his mouth and shook out his paper before slouching back down behind it. “No one appreciates a good war anymore,” he muttered.

“Aunt….” Lucas carefully placed his cup in its saucer. “Perhaps I’ve put this off too long—though there were
reasons
, very good ones!—but I find myself wanting very much to go home after lunch, and reluctant to do so without an answer for Clara.”

“Ah.” The Queen smiled. “Is this your formal request to approve the betrothal?”

“It is.”

“Hmm.” The Queen tapped her finger against her lips.

Lucas tilted his head, abruptly wary for no good reason he could fathom. “‘Hmm’?”

“Hmm,” repeated the Queen. She set down her cup. “I’ve been talking with Cráwa.”

Lucas waited for a moment, but when she didn’t go on, he prompted, “Oh? Does he have some sort of objection to Clara marrying a Daimin? Because I’m certain that when I tell Clara, she won’t care where Slade’s from as long as he—”

“No, no—no objection from Cráwa. Nor from me, for that matter.”

Lucas sat back with a relieved huff. “So you approve, then. Good! For moment there, I thought—”

“I don’t think I said as much.” The Queen lifted her eyebrows.

Lucas wasn’t sure, because the paper was still in the way, but he thought perhaps the Prince Consort snorted.

“So you
don’t
approve?” Lucas asked and looked over at Alex, hoping for some kind of silent reassurance that his voice hadn’t come out as high-pitched as he suspected.

“I don’t think I said that, either.”

This time, Lucas didn’t hold back the scowl. “What are—?”

“Hush now, Lucas dear, and listen to Auntie.” The Queen sat back and smoothed her skirts over his knees. “After the events of the past days, and after the marvelous job you did in… containing things, my Magician and I have decided that a new Court position is in order.”

Lucas stared. And then he frowned. “Not for me, I hope.”

The Queen smiled serenely.

“But I like the Library!”

No, he
loved
the Library. He didn’t want to be “rewarded” for whatever it was Cráwa and the Queen thought he’d done that deserved rewarding by getting “promoted” to a position he didn’t want and having to leave the Library to do it.

“You may keep your Library, Lucas dear,” the Queen assured him.

Your
Library, she’d said.
Your
Library. Lucas would feel bad about the smug grin he was fighting but Alex patted him on the shoulder, so he didn’t.

“This is a position that would utilize your unique mind and your affinity for research and analysis.”

“Ooh,” said Alex. “Sounds very… scholarly. Very you, Lucas.”

“Indeed,” the Queen agreed. “The Crown will not require the services of this particular position very often, but when the need is present, it would be very important that you devoted your full attention to the… projects to which you would be assigned.”

Lucas sat up straighter. This sounded like a critical position and he couldn’t help feeling flattered.

“What kinds of projects?”

“Oh, those would vary.” The Queen waved her hand airily and glared at the Prince Consort’s paper when he—yes, he’d definitely snorted. The Queen looked almost… cagey.

Lucas glanced at Alex, who merely blinked back with a shrug. “Vary
how
?” Lucas asked the Queen.

“Well, for instance,” the Queen cleared her throat, “the dignitaries from Qest’trel will be arriving next week to discuss matters of trade.”

“Yes, I’ve almost got the translations finished,” Lucas said.

“That’s lovely, dear.” The Queen picked up her tea again and took a sip. “But it would be helpful to know… other things, as well.”

Lucas hadn’t really been expecting a catch, because this was
his aunt
—well, his cousin, in truth, but same thing, almost—and she loved him, she said so all the time, but now he could see it coming like a boulder to the face. “Such as…?”

“Such as anything one of the ministers might say in a private moment when they think no one is listening.” The Queen put down her tea and ran a dainty, manicured finger along the edge of the saucer. “You know. Things like that.”

You watch that girl
, Auntie Del had warned,
soon enough she’ll turn you into a spy or… or an assassin!

Lucas gulped. “Please tell me you don’t want me to kill anyone.”

“What?
No
!” The Queen looked appalled. Lucas took a tiny bit of relief from that. “Whatever gave you such an idea, Lucas, honestly! No, no, I only want you to spy for me.”

“Spy,” echoed Lucas weakly. “That’s… so much better.”

“It really is, when you think about it,” Alex put in and gave Lucas’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh, the
adventures
, Lucas!” the Queen enthused. “I’ll send you traveling. Haven’t you always wanted to travel?”