TW: Brief mention of guns

The days pass Roche by like hills on a train ride. Verita deemed her too untrained to continue book deliveries, but Roche knew that the librarian was trying to prevent her from encountering the royals again. And for good reason. Roche didn't want anything more to do with that arrogant Tigris and her brood of knights. For the most part, she was content to stay in the library and help the few nobles who had access to it. For the moments of free time after dinner when Roche wasn't reshelving books, Verita encouraged her to explore the library.

"The more you strengthen your connection to the language, the deeper your understanding of inkblood will be." Verita had said. Roche sideyed her.

"Do I want it to be stronger?" she asked skeptically. Verita had given her a stern glare.

"Stronger inkblood means better control. Which you so clearly need."

Roche didn't complain much. The library was much more expansive than her mother's collection of books. Her inkblood pulsed like a second heartbeat each time she picked out a new book, the words painting beautiful pictures in her mind. She dabbled in science, of course. Everything from the fantastical to the most intricate scientific concepts caught her eye. Each page turned felt like a shot of adrenaline. It made Roche feel alive. Sometimes, safe in her quarters, she would test out the new words that bubbled in her mind. She found that now, if she had the willpower and the right word, she didn't need to say a word to use her inkblood. It certainly made hauling around stacks of books easier when Verita wasn't watching.

It felt like heaven. All until one night when her inkblood woke her up with a hefty deluge of fear.

"WAKE!"

Roche bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding. She grabbed a candle off her nightstand. Even in the castle, it was courteous to limit the use of electricity and lights. Roche much preferred candles anyway.

"Fyra!" she whispered, the word crackly from her sleepy voice. The candle lit immediately, and Roche awakened with the stretch of inkblood. She didn't hear anything, save for the soft pop of flames. But her inkblood pressed against her chest urgently. She held the candle up, seeing nothing. Roche slipped out of bed, throwing on a thin cloak to protect her from the night's chill. Verita's chambers were icy and empty, save for the old woman sleeping soundly on a thin cot. Roche slipped past her quietly, cracking open the door to the library. She heard a faint scratching sound in the distance, somewhere far within the library. This time, her inkblood didn't urge her to run. Roche still felt wary, but she was curious what had frightened her inkblood so much.

The library was silent as Roche crept forward, holding the candle in front of her like a weapon. She really wished she'd kept Tigris' dagger. The scratching was getting louder as she approached the center of the library. The friezes seemed familiar as Roche progressed. She realised that she was somewhere near the place she'd gotten lost in during her first time in the library. Now that she had a better look, she realised that the shelves here looked older than the rest of the library. They were made of thick stone that melded into the wall. Roche stopped in front of it, and the scratching intensified.

Carefully, she rounded the corner, her finger pressing against the seam of the shelf and the wall. She tried to yank the shelf forward with a small grunt. It didn't even budge. Yet the scratching sound was so clear behind it. There had to be a way to move the shelf.

Roche wet her dry lips, peering at the shelf again. There wasn't anything outwardly unusual about it, apart from its age. She scanned it again, her eyes catching on the titles.

They were old. Very old. The books were barely held together in their bindings, and their papers were yellowed and curling. Perhaps it wasn't just the shelf that was special. Roche carefully ran her finger over the parchments and pages, her inkblood roaring in her ears. After a moment, on the third shelf, her finger landed on something solid, and her inkblood stilled. It was a stone tablet. A very old one. She moved to grab it. The ground began to shake furiously.

A small gasp spilled out of her before she could stop it. She stumbled back, desperately trying to keep her balance. There was a series of loud groans and squeals coming from the shelf, like a series of ancient gears finally spinning to life. Roche held the candle higher and watched as the bookshelf shuddered and seemed to push forward towards her. Roche fully expected it to continue pressing against her until she was crushed, but the rumbling stopped as quickly as it started, a neat ring of dust circling the shelf. Roche tiptoed closer, slipping her fingers around the edge of the shelf again. This time, it swung forward, revealing a dingy, stone passageway. It was covered in dust and some kind of sticky grime, like it hadn't been touched in years. She noted that the scratching sounds had stopped. Roche fought a gag as poked the wall and something squelched under her nail.

"Nope. I'm not going in there." she whispered under her breath. Almost on cue, she heard an unfamiliar voice break through the silence.

"I think I see a light over there!"

Roche cursed. Of course. Of course there had to be intruders in the library on the same night she decided to snoop. She had the worst luck ever.

She pinched the wick of her candle quickly, but it was too late. She could hear footsteps pounding towards her.

Roche looked around for somewhere to hide, and then realised with no small amount of horror that she had the perfect, disgusting place. She squeezed her eyes shut and slid into the passageway, pulling the shelf back into place. She left it open a crack so that it wouldn't lock, and she could escape. The shelf was heavy, and she had to brace herself against the thin opening to keep the door from swinging open.

Two cloaked figures hurried towards the spot where Roche had been standing. She held her breath, peering out of the crack in the shelf. The figures were right in front of her.

"There's nothing here but dirt!" the cloaked man on the right growled. "I'm not risking another second in this place."

"It's the safest place," the other man insisted, "That hag librarian has no idea what's going on in these walls."

Roche clenched her jaw. Oh, now she wanted to go bust these two intruders. She nearly did when she caught a glint of metal peeking out of their belts. Guns. Fancy ones too.

"Whatever," the first cloaked man replied flippantly, "I still have my duties to attend to. When will the datura be ready?"

"Soon," promised the second man, "The full moon will complete the preparation."

Preparation? Datura? Roche thought, aghast. The first man cocked his head. His face was covered by his cloak's hood, but Roche could make out the gleam of his smile.

"The King won't know what hit him."

"Good," the second man spat, "After he what he did to the Councilman's daughter-"

"At least it wasn't the councilman he caught." the first man interrupted smoothly. There was a heavy, pressing silence. The second man leaned closer.

"Don't let the Council hear you say that." he hissed, "You know how dear the girl was to them."

"She was dear to all of us," whispered the first man again. He spoke through clenched teeth, "She was my niece."

"Don't worry, Uncle." the second man whispered, "The King will know heartbreak soon enough. Now, be off. There are many preparations to be put in place."

They bowed to each other before the second man walked off. The first man turned to the bookshelf. He hummed slightly to himself, his hand reaching for the stone tablet. Roche's heart lodged in her throat.

She didn't want to know what he would do if he found her in here. She peered out the crack again and cursed. She couldn't make a run for it. Not unless...

Reafnis! she thought intently. Suddenly, the dust that had been released by the bookshelf earlier flew up into the air. Roche slipped out of the bookshelf as the man swatted at his face and cursed. He turned away, hacking as the dust arranged itself into a neat pile at his feet. By the time he looked back at the open bookshelf, Roche had slipped away. She watched as he stared at the open passageway, shrugged, and walked through. The door locked shut with a thud behind him.

Roche had a sinking feeling in her chest as she carefully made her way back to her bed. Those men were planning something. And whatever it was, the King was in danger. Roche couldn't figure out if she even wanted to get involved.

A/N: Sooo what do you think about these intruders? Spoiler alert, we'll be getting to know them more in the future :)

Lmk what you think about this chapter! As always, criticism is appreciated :D