Chapter 20: Young Scholar

After being casted out and leaving her husband’s chamber, Ilaria returned quietly to her own. Well, she would not call it being cast out, she told herself it was simply her husband being as he had always been, reserved and unyielding in his nature. Even so, a faint dejection she could not quite chase away lingered in her chest.

He didn’t even smile at me.

Ilaria pursed her lips at her reflection in the mirror, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. Behind her, Liana fussed delicately with her hair, twisting it into a soft bun before smoothing the loose strands into place. The maid’s fingers trailed down to her nape, pressing gently at the knots of tension gathered there, then kneaded along her shoulders with quiet care.

Ilaria let her gaze linger on the glass, studying the girl who stared back at her. She was poised and steady as always, yet her expression carry a weight that her smile tried to hide. She turned her head slightly, hoping that version of herself might look a little less heavy if seen from another angle.

It did not.

“Ah…” Ilaria let out a long breath, her shoulders easing as her eyes fluttered shut. She tilted her head slightly into Liana’s touch, savouring the relief. “Your hands are always so good, Lili. Where did you learn to massage like this?”

Liana hummed softly, her thumbs pressing into a tender knot along the princess’ shoulders. “From my grandmother, Your Highness. She used to say that tired shoulders tell more secrets than a weary tongue.”

Ilaria hummed happily. “Then I must be telling you far too many secrets today.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Liana replied gently, almost teasing. “But yours are safe with me.”

Ilaria opened her eyes halfway, catching her maid’s reflection in the mirror. She had always been cute in her eyes. Her braided brown hair bun framing a face so youthful that, at times, she found herself tempted to pinch her cheek. “Melyn must have trained you to be this loyal.”

“Perhaps,” Liana smiled, “but I think it’s simply because I like seeing you smile without forcing it, princess.”

Ilaria blinked, then frowned, her lips forming a soft pout as if she had just heard something unlikely. “I never forced a smile.”

Liana tilted her head, unconvinced, but said nothing.

The princess huffed, puffing her cheeks for a moment before continuing, “…There are so many little things worth smiling for. Like the way the sunlight comes through this window in the morning, or when the cooks sneak me an extra macaron.”

She tapped her fingers lightly against her skirts, her pout already lifting into a grin. “And now your hands, how could I not smile when they feel this nice?”

Liana laughed under her breath. “You make it sound so easy, Princess.”

“It is easy,” Ilaria insisted, her feet swaying beneath the dress table. “Even on gloomy days, there’s always a patch of blue sky hiding somewhere, you just have to keep looking until you find it.”

Her gaze lingered on her own reflection, and her smile softened. Just like with him. Even if her husband seemed all storms and shadows, she believed — no, she knew — there had to be a gentler light hidden somewhere in him. And if she kept waiting and kept trying, she would find it one day. And maybe he would let her in too.

“By the way, Lili…” Ilaria tilted her head slightly as Liana worked on smoothing her hair. “Where were you last night? Melyn said she left you and Theana to wait for me when the maids were called for rearrangements, but I didn’t see you when I returned.”

Liana’s hands faltered for the briefest moment before she quickly resumed. Her eyes lowered as guilt flickering across her features. “Forgive me, Your Highness. We…we were called to fetch you in the back courtyard, but when we arrived, you were already there with His Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Ilaria blinked, caught off guard. “Ah? You saw us?”

“Yes.” Liana shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening slightly in Ilaria’s hair before she forced them to relax. “You seemed…occupied. We thought it would be improper to disturb, so Theana and I returned quietly.”

Ilaria’s lips parted, then curved into a sheepish little smile, although the memory was not all sweet and tender. “Ah…okay~”

Liana smoothed the last pin into place before clearing her throat gently, changing the subject. “Where would you like to go today, Princess? The gardens, perhaps?”

“The library,” Ilaria replied without hesitation.

Liana blinked, unsure if she heard it correctly. “The…library?”

“Mhm. The library.”

Her maid hesitated, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. “Forgive me, princess, but reading has never been…your usual pastime.”

A soft laugh bubbled from Ilariaupon hearing that. “You make it sound as if I don’t read at all! I do. Just…not very much.” She looked back at her, eyes sparkling. “But after the other night, I realized something.”

“Something?” Liana prompted gently.

Ilaria’s smile softened, wistful yet resolute. “That I know so little about my husband’s world, and about the things that matter to him. Like military histories, campaigns…even the way they talk about strategies at the table. I only sit there and nod like a fool.”

She gave a tiny pout, then shook her head with determination. “If I want to stand by him, even just a little, I should at least try to understand.”

Ilaria smoothed her skirt, her voice remained light, but there was an earnestness beneath it that shine through every word. “So let’s just say…I think it’s about time I learn more than just embroidery patterns and palace corridors.”

~×~

The library doors opened with a muted creak, and Ilaria stepped inside, clutching her skirts lightly as though the silence itself were sacred. The air smelled faintly of ink and vellum, and dust and polished wood. There were many court scholars hunched with their books and research, so Ilaria slipped in quietly so as to not alert everyone.

She placed a finger against her lips, shushing the Royal Librarian who hesitatingly bowed deeply. Liana followed behind, her steps soft, but when they reached the wide hall of shelves where there is less people, she quietly held back. The maid drifted toward a corner where she could still watch her mistress, yet far enough to give her privacy.

Ilaria lingered by the first towering shelf, her eyes widening at the rows upon rows of leather spines arranged neatly. The Noctharis’ palace library was grand, perhaps even grander than the one in Calewyn, and it was fascinating. She trailed her fingertips along the gilded letters, scanning as if searching for a hidden treasure.

Her lips parted in awe. “So many books,” she whispered. “Where do I even begin?”

Ilaria inspect theleather-bound tomes one by one with squinting eyes, her lips moving silently as she read the gilded titles. Half of them was written in another language as she pursed her lips, unsure whether to reach for the one titled ’Treatises of War and Statecraft’ or ’The Lineage of Old Houses’

“Looking for something specific, Your Highness?”

The voice startled her. She spun quickly, clutching the folds of her skirts as if she had been caught trespassing.

Standing a short distance away was a young man who looked no older than his early twenties with silver hair and a steady gaze that carried both warmth and intelligence. He was not dressed like a guard, nor quite like the scholars she had glimpsed in passing.

“Oh, I…” Ilaria started, surprised. “I didn’t see you there.”

A faint smile tugged at the person’s lips, his jaw refined, his sapphire eyes glinting. His hair was neatly swept back, though a few strands had rebelliously slipped forward, brushing against the delicate silver chain that held his spectacles in place. The faint glint of the lenses caught the light as he regarded her, eyes keen yet not unkind.

“That was by design, I think. You came in so quietly even the dust on the shelves hardly stirred.”

Her eyes widened. “Then…how did you know I was here?”

“The Royal Librarian told me,” he admitted with a low chuckle that did not feel mocking, only amused. “He thought you might need a hand as this was your first time here, if I reckon correctly?”

Ilaria’s cheeks warmed, and she lifted her chin stubbornly. “I’m not helpless. I only…” She glanced at the wall of books again, shoulders sinking with the weight of too many choices and her little knowledge about all this. “…I only don’t know where to start.”

He stepped closer then, not too near, but enough for her to see the way his eyes held a glint of mirth. With a small bow, he placed a hand over his chest.

“Forgive me. I’ve not introduced myself.” His voice carried a gentle steadiness, one trained to speak with both courtesy and confidence. “Lysander Algernon. Archivist to the Crown, and, on occasion, a rather stubborn acquaintance of His Highness, Crown Prince Levan.”

At the mention of her husband, Ilaria’s surprise showed in the way her lips parted. “You know him?”

“Well enough to be scolded by him on matters of accuracy,” Lysander said with a crooked smile. “And well enough to know what he values most. Discipline, knowledge, precision. He rarely suffers fools, princess.”

Her fingers twisted lightly in her skirts, caught between awe and sudden shyness. “Oh, well I…I only wanted to understand more about the things he speaks of.”

Lysander regarded her for a moment longer, then looked at the books she had been eyeing with slight scrutiny. “Treatises of War and Statecraft,” he read, causing Ilaria to look away in slight awkwardness.

Why would he read it aloud…

But Lysander did not judge, he only smiled. “Then you’ve come to the right place. Allow me to help you find where to begin.”

Ilaria’s eyes brightened at once, and she nodded eagerly. The rest unfolded quietly between the rows of shelves as Lysander guided her through the library and sat where he always did, at the velvet-cushioned bench sat by the tall windows.

Ilaria scanned the many books he had picked that is now sat on the table in front of them. Her head is already dizzy from looking at how thick they were that she considered giving up, but she keep reminding herself that she cannot. In the name of love.

“…What should I read first?” She asked, already looking like she was about to cry without her noticing.

Lysander adjusted his glasses, a faint smile on his lips upon seeing the princess’ countenance. He placed a thick tome in front of her. “Perhaps what every ruler’s consort ought to know, the kingdom’s own history.”

Her brows arched. “Is it very long?”

“Centuries’ worth,” he chuckled softly, and Ilaria have to clamp her lips from frowning. “But if I may suggest, begin with the reign of King Agrathen. His policies shaped the borders we still hold today. Much of what the princes discuss in council stems from his foundations.”

At that, Ilaria tilted her head, curiosity finally sparkling in her eyes. “Then…if I learn about him, maybe I can finally understand why my husband cares so much about maps and treaties.”

“Exactly,” Lysander nodded gently. “History is not just the past, princess. It is the language your husband speaks every day.”

Right…He only speaks about important stuff, he doesn’t even know how to say thank you.

Ilaria pursed her lips as she blinked at the thick tome. She did not even try to lift it; the weight of its leather binding alone made her shoulders ache just by looking at it.

“But I can’t possibly bring this back to my room,” she murmured, almost sulking. “It’s far too thick…”

Lysander could see that, the King Agrathen’s tome was bigger than average books after all. “You needn’t worry about that, Your Highness. The library is yours as much as it is the Crown’s. You’re welcome here at any time, day or night. These shelves will always be waiting for you.”

Her eyes lit up at his words as a childlike brightness spill across her face. “Truly? Every day and night?”

Lysander only smiled, like he was watching an eager young scholar. “Truly.”

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