Claiming The Remnant

Chapter 55

[ Taiya ]

There was a hidden meaning behind Jo’s words I was sure of it but whatever it meant I felt vindicated and much more comfortable in my skin. Learning a little about myself had put the nagging thoughts of distrust to bed, at least for now.

Jo had me dressed in no time at all. After a quick bathroom trip we made our way to the exit of the suite in pursuit of breakfast only to find it had already been delivered and left in the sitting room.

“So what would you like to do today?” Josephine asked as I swallowed down the last bite. Cook was still sending a basic breakfast of eggs but also a little fruit, yoghurt and honey. This morning Jo swiped my fruit. She popped a grape in her mouth as she lazed on the couch waiting for my answer.

“I’d love to go shopping… but alas not only am I dirt poor but going into the city would be too strenuous of an endeavour. I am already,” A yawn escaped me, demonstrating my words as I tried to say them, “tired from this morning's activities.”

“Take a nap.” Josephine shrugged. “The morning appears amenable enough, I’ll wake you in a short while and we can walk the gardens.” She chomped an apple slice, sharp eyes pinned on my drooping ones.

“Humm, the gardens…” I muttered sleepily, “did not go so well last time but yes, outside…” I drifted off into a strange vivid dream, well more of a nightmare, a nightmare where a woman lived behind my eyes. A woman whose appearance made me scream but I could never recall her face. There was fire on the other side of my eyes. The fire would drink her up, its roar would cover her words.

“Hey, hey wake up.” Josephine was an inch from my face. “Are you ok? It sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

“What was I saying?” I wiped my eyes, finding they were wet.

“The, er, final blessing.”

“Oh well, that's not terrifying at all.” My dry quip amused no one. "It's raining." I stated, my voice heaving with thick emotion. By the sound of it the rain wanted in as much as I wanted out.

"Sorry." Jo said with much feeling. My fallen face must have spoken louder than my pitiful statement. "The storm came in very suddenly after you fell asleep so I let you sleep longer." From the way she picked at imaginary dirt under her fingernails it was clear that decision worried her.

"What else is there to do? Something that is very much indoors and involves no money?" I looked to Josephine for answers.

"The library?"

I recalled how she had held the book she had been reading when …. Had it been a subtle question? Was her intention to offer me literature rather than some slight I didn't understand? Certainly it made more sense.

"Well, it is the weather for it." I joked flatly.

"Weather for ducks, more like." She snorted, amused with herself, as she rose to help me up.

"Certainly I wouldn't be against eating some duck!" I joined.

"I'm sure it would be no trouble at all for Cook to make you some duck soup…"

"Josephine!" I slapped her arm weakly. "Ye Gods woman, and to think I was just coming to think we were friends. Soup! Honestly. I'd rather chomp it raw!"

"I would pay to see that! Perhaps that's how you can regain your fortune." Jo quipped good naturedly. "But the question remains, with or without feathers?"

"Clearly it shall have to be a live duck, all in the interest of good showmanship of course. Then I shall don the puffiest dress imaginable and chase it down." Through laughter I continued, "Only the best for my paying customers."

We chatted non stop, nattering happily as we walked the hallways. Josephine’s arm was linked with mine. She made no protest but allowed me to lean against her without complaint and kept her pace slow.

“Here, the library.” Josephine pulled us to a stop in front of a towering pair of double doors. A brass push panel designed to look like half of an open book gleamed on both sides. Ornate carvings of Fae, Gods and Yelka trees filled the expanse of the doors and spilled onto the frame.

“Why are there no door handles?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Because the library is never closed.” She shrugged.

“But,” My brain was itching, “is there someone watching the books then?”

“Why would someone need to watch the books?” Her tone was mocking. Took longer than I’d expected for Josephine to become irked with me.

“So that no one steals them.” It seemed obvious to me. From the corner of my eye I could see our reflections in the brass panels, just the movement, not the detail. I wanted to keep it that way.

“Books aren’t stolen Esther, they are borrowed.” She was smug in her answer, a knowing smile that seemed just for me played on her lips. My fingers went to the jewel, the Pamperl cut sapphire, resting against my chest. Anything could be stolen, even books. Everything had a value, didn’t it? “Come on.”

With a gentle push the door opened, swinging silently, softly, smoothly as if it weighed nothing.

The library was cavernous.

My quarters would fit with room to spare. Shelves dominated three walls, floor to ceiling, and the fourth wall was practically all window and no wall at all. I didn’t think I’d ever seen so much glass. Rain drummed against the panes before hugging the glass and sliding down, making the outside world a twisted blur of landscape. Southward facing, there was an orchard below, that followed into more fields.

Cosy chairs, knitted pouffes, cushions, couches and polished tables with straight backed wooden seats were scattered by the window, the odd, unreasonably tall and outrageously full bookcase separated the slew of seats into sections. The rest of the room was also filled with bookcases but they weren’t as tall as the ones against the wall and they were also arranged in a seemingly haphazard fashion. A weird maze instead of the tidy rows I would have expected. Everything gave the impression of being open and light at the same time as being cluttered and cosy.

"Stop gawping, let's get you seated." She started pulling me, well, dragging me more like to the cluster of brightly coloured soft furnishings in the corner. "Anyone would think you've never seen a library before!" I didn't miss the slyness in her tone.

"I don't recall that I have." My eyes were trying to drink in the magnificence but it was just too grand. That someone could own all this was astounding, let alone the fact that it was unguarded; open to be shared with all in the castle.

Josephine eased me into a deep blue armchair by the window and then skipped off to grab some books. The rain started to ease, pattering more softly and the exertion from walking here hit me. I drifted off thinking about how wonderful His Majesty was. Not only did he share his library but the accommodation of peoples shades by having all these different coloured chairs was - beautiful.

From high shades to low shades, they were all represented except for purple. No one had purple though. It was the colour of the Remnant. It was myth. It was legend. It wasn't real.

- -

The sound of laughter woke me. Josephine, a beautiful smile on her face, laughed freely and sweetly at whatever it was that she was reading. It was endearing. I hadn't seen her like this before.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" The mask slid back down.

"No." I lied smoothly, smiling. "I suppose I ought to choose something to read, for the life of me I don't know what." Feeling stiff I started getting to my feet.

"No need to get up, I gathered a small section that I thought you might like." She pointed at the stack of books on the low table.

"That was very thoughtful." Her powder blue eyes seemed to hold a gleam of anxiety as I reached for the first book on the pile she had gathered for me and riffled though the pages. “Are these childrens’ books?” The agitation it elicited resounded very clearly in each word I spoke. Josephine fidgeted.

“Um, yes, but, I, er,” She rambled flustered, looking every which way but at me, “I meant no offence.” Jo looked at her feet.

“Then what did you mean?” I growled, holding some book full of drawings and about eight lines of text a page.

“Just that with your condition,” Her arm shifted subtly, moving closer to her body as though she were seeking to comfort herself, “I thought it might be prudent to start with something that wasn’t particularly taxing…”

Breathing deeply, I stilled the blossoming anger and opened the book to the first page. It featured a drawing of a young girl looking up at an apple tree, an apple tree that only had one apple on it and it was right at the top.

I took a quick look at my vexing companion, she was still looking at her feet, before moving my attention to the sparse lines on the next page.

‘Th-ere on-ce was a you-n-g girl nam-ed …’ and then I was stuck. For Pete’s sake this was a childrens’ book! A small childrens’ book. I tried again. Still, I couldn’t get past this stupid girls name. Blast it, Ye Gods, I just chose a name. Ann. The girl's name is Ann. I decided.

‘Ann li-k-ed apples.’ That one was easy, there was an apple tree. Obvious. Ok, next line.

‘In her g-ar-d-en was an …’ Earth and Sky bless me I was stuck again. This was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous.

“I could help if you…” Rage hit me. Why can’t I remember? Why is my face wrong and my hands wrong and I don’t know stuff like ‘voila’ and ‘efficacious’ and I don’t know my cutlery and I can’t read some stupid girls name in some stupid childrens’ book.

“Arurgh.” The nonsensical sound of my aggravation verbatted in my throat and on thoughtless impulse I threw the book as hard as I could. Which was surprisingly much harder than I thought I could.

It went much further than I thought it would.

Past Josephine.

Between the window pane and the book shelf that separated the next section of the seating. Yet another thing I couldn’t do. Throw. I had intended, I think, to hit Jo with it. How very unladylike of me.

“Oww.”

Ye Gods! I hit someone.