Lian smiled—the first genuine smile I’d seen after we arrived. “My friends from Lóng City would like to see your domain. May I show them?”
The man bowed again. “My domain is yours, Princess.”
He had once served as the emperor’s chief librarian, Lian told us, as we entered the main room, but he preferred to oversee this smaller library, and so the emperor had granted him the favor. If this was the smaller library, then the bigger ones would be larger than all of Lóng City’s palace, I thought as I trailed after Lian and Yún. Dozens of scribes and under-librarians and scholars toiled away at their desks, or among the shelves, which must have held thousands of books and scrolls. Everything smelled of ink and leather. And more. I paused, sniffing. Strong magic permeated the air. I recognized special guard spells to keep the books and scrolls safe from decay. Those were easy to identify. But there were others that eluded me.
“. . . then there are the archives . . .”
I caught the last of Lian’s words and hurried to catch up.
“Here,” she said, opening a smaller set of doors. “It’s my favorite part of the library.”
We came into a small series of rooms, linked together by wide doorways. Locked drawers covered the lower half of the walls, open shelves the upper reaches. I tilted my head back to see a ghost dragon ranged along the highest shelf—a living guardian to go along with the magical ones.
The griffin chirruped. The ghost dragon blinked lazily, its silvery eyes gleaming in the dim light above.
“There’s at least one in every room of the library,” Lian said. “The king of Phoenix City’s ghost dragons signed a treaty, much like the one my father made. Come along, there’s a special set of scrolls I’d like to show you.”
We passed through five smaller rooms to a large chamber with bright lamps hung from the ceiling. Three ghost dragons stood guard here. At Lian’s entrance, the dragons nodded, as though they recognized her.
“Old friends?” Yún asked.
“You might say so,” Lian replied. “They are cousins of the ghost dragons in Lóng City. Their loyalty is toward learning, not to the emperor himself.” She gestured toward the small square table. “Sit,” she told us. “We can talk freely here, but not for long.”
Right. I blew out a breath, suddenly shaky, and plopped onto the nearest bench. Yún and Lian sat opposite me, and we all bent forward. Our griffin perched on my shoulder, his claws pricking into my shoulder, as though he too wanted a part of this secret conference.
Yún started, her voice low and urgent. “You think someone in this court wishes to prevent you from leaving.”
Lian shook her head. “It makes no sense. Lóng City isn’t important enough. And I—I’m just one of thousands who study at the university. Many others are of much higher rank and greater wealth.”
“Then why the delays?”
“I don’t know. Coincidence. Or bribes from someone in Lóng City’s court who has connections here. No one made any objection when I sent half my belongings yesterday to the freight transport company.”
“They won’t need to object,” I said, whispering like the others. “They just need to make sure your stuff never goes any where.”
“I thought of that,” Lian said bitterly. “If they think I care about books or clothes more than my father and my homeland, they are stupid people indeed.” Her eyes brightened to a fierce light. “If I cannot obtain my tickets and my papers by tomorrow, I shall walk home.”
“The emperor will not permit it.”
Quan appeared in the doorway we had just entered. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, like Yún’s had been, like mine and Lian’s. His hair had come loose from his queue, and he wore the same clothes as yesterday, only now they were rumpled and stained, as though he’d spent the night behind the palace garbage bins. Both his hands were clenched in fists.
Yún gave a sudden jump. I muffled back a yelp. How had he found us?
Lian pushed to her feet abruptly, sending the bench tumbling backward. “You—”
Quan started toward her. She tried to shove past him. He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. “Listen,” he whispered rapidly. “You must listen. I know who wants to keep you in Phoenix City.” He glanced over his shoulder. Already a confused noise sounded from the library’s main chamber. “There’s no time to explain more. Slap my face as hard as you can.”
Lian’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“Because of this.”
Quan slipped one hand behind Lian’s neck. Lian stiffened—I thought she might jab him with a fist—then her body melted against his. Quan clasped her other hand and pressed his lips to hers. It was a thorough kiss, as though he were spending a fortune in passion. I had to turn away because it was too embarrassing, too intimate, to watch, but I heard the moment when that forever kiss ended, because Quan gave an audible sigh. Only then did I dare to turn around.
Both their eyes were wide, surprised and wondering.
“Now,” he whispered.
I heard the slap before it even registered that she’d moved.