Chapter 16 In the Library
Oscar wandered the corridors, finally on his way to the library. Did Abélie’s speculations trouble him? Not particularly. Without proof or additional information, it was difficult to take a stance. Still, between the rumours, the Eastern Forest, and these disappearances, many things were beginning to pile up. Come to think of it, the duchess had never spoken of sleeping together, nor even of sharing quarters. Perhaps she had secrets she wished to keep from him—and the mere thought of the duchess in a nightgown brought him to an abrupt halt.
What was he thinking??? How indecent.
He felt his cheeks flush without even looking in a mirror. He stopped near a wall, taking deep breaths to compose himself. How foolish.
Shaking these thoughts from his mind, he reached the library in a few long strides.
The place was austere, deserted, and very quiet — not that the castle was particularly lively to begin with. Once again, it differed greatly from the constant bustle of Eau-Claire. Did he miss it?
Perhaps not so much.
Oscar had always felt alone within that ever-moving mass — invisible among the crowd. And especially invisible to his father.
It mattered little. He was in Mulberry now. And at present, he had an infinity of books to explore.
What was he looking for? Did he want to learn more about the duchess’s lineage? About the duchy? About the mining enterprises? About etiquette… or about women?
He pondered. Best to begin with the duchy. But the room was vast, the shelves towering… Should he search the entire place? And where was the librarian? There was always a librarian in places like this — man or woman, it hardly mattered. Where was the keeper of knowledge, the one who guarded the room jealously and looked down even upon the highest aristocrats?
Oscar began pacing the room. It was particularly dark — that had struck him during his first visit with Brennan.
Silence.
He called out, surely. If someone were nearby, his voice would echo among the shelves.
Silence answered him once more.
Isolated, he moved toward a window and drew back the heavy curtains. Contrary to what he expected, they were not dusty. Someone maintained them. He pulled them wide, bathing part of the room in much-needed light. Then, driven by sudden determination, he opened a second window, then a third, then a fourth.
Soon, the entire room was flooded with light. He could not understand why such a place had been left in darkness.
He examined the central aisles. They contained only fantasy books and adventure novels… Perhaps someone here enjoyed them; their spines were bent, more worn than those on the surrounding shelves.
This was not what he sought.
On shelves further from the centre, near the windows, he recognised treatises on economics, politics, and the history of the continent. Oscar picked one at random. These subjects were familiar; he had studied them with his private tutor. Any well-educated noble was expected to know them.
He read a few lines about the Holy Conflict of the continent, the unification of the greatest nations to form the Empire of Eura, the ascension of the Regina family — the lineage of the current emperor — and the Great Terror of Monsters, calamities their ancestors had driven from their lands through obscure means.
Oscar continued reading. He already knew this history, knew these lines. And yet, rereading them comforted him. It confirmed that he was still on the same continent as Rivière, in the same world.
He closed the book and opened another — an economic treatise overflowing with mathematical formulas and diagrams. Economics interested him… only marginally. He acknowledged its importance and understood its key principles, but that was all. In any case, it said nothing about Wingfall’s economy; the scope was too broad. Still, it was clearer than his former teachers’ explanations. He decided to keep it close.
He also took a book on the greatest artists of the capital, another on the fundamental principles of religion, and yet another…
Without realising how much time had passed, he was already carrying a sizeable stack.
Madame Brown had promised to bring him a list of every member of the high aristocracy, all of whom he would have to memorise — names and titles alike. He had plenty of reading ahead.
Titles did not trouble him. Names, however… Did Her Grace already know them all by heart? He wondered.
He added a book on the geography of Wingfall to his pile and continued his search.
In a corner of the room, tucked between two shelves, he came across a painting.
Before him stood the duchess herself, wearing a lovely navy-blue gown. He had never seen her wear anything but green, yet the blue suited her well.
All colours suited her.
She smiled — a sincere smile — and appeared much younger. The tiara on her head suggested she had only just made her debut in society; perhaps she had been sixteen or seventeen at the time. She had not changed much… Though she had, of course, matured. Her once-innocent features had grown into something more charismatic. And her eyes, though only painted, sparkled with mischief and intelligence…
He truly liked this painting.