Bibliophile Princess: Volume 1 Read online

  “Yes, my apologies.”

  I felt like an unruly student being scolded by their teacher. Up until this point, he’d been one of the few who showed understanding toward my unladylike behavior, but perhaps his patience had worn thin.

  “Does Chris know that you’re here at the palace?” he asked.

  “...No.”

  I hadn’t been to the palace in five days. My aunt injured her hip, and I’d been looking after her, at least in theory. In truth, she was just borrowing me as a conversation partner so she could kill time. This had drawn me away from the book I wanted to read, and instead I’d been forced to endure the drudgery that was reading love stories and poetry collections that my aunt had recommended aloud and at length. Today I finally slipped away from that slog and made my way here to the archives to retrieve my longed-for tome, only to witness the aforementioned scene.

  Prince Theodore sighed once more. “Then go home quickly,” he said curtly, chasing me out of the archives.

  My chest prickled with pain. Prince Theodore was the only one outside my family with whom I could discuss books. I had hoped when we met today that I could ask about the book he was holding.

  I trudged down the corridor.

  Access to the archives had been increasingly restrictive this past month. I had been given free access to visit as the prince’s betrothed, but even the workers there that I used to converse with now acted distant and shooed me from the books. I suspected they were handling older tomes, since they were all wearing gloves, and volunteered to help, but they turned me down flat. They acted almost as if I couldn’t be trusted with handling the books there, and that saddened me greatly.

  I understood now though, after seeing the prince and Lady Irene. The workers probably sensed that he had someone special in mind now and were trying to put distance between themselves and me, knowing our engagement would be annulled. The same could be said about the events in the rose garden ten days ago, come to think of it.

  One of our regular tea parties was planned that day in the rose garden. I was late in arriving, held back by the chief herbalist who’d come to return a book. At the behest of the male servant attending me, we hurried to the garden. Clamor from that direction came to greet us as we approached, in the form of Lady Irene and a number of maids.

  “If it isn’t Lady Elianna!”

  I flinched at her reproachful tone and strong gaze.

  “And just where were you? Everyone was waiting for you,” she huffed.

  No matter the reason, I was the one at fault for being late.

  “My apologies,” I said. “I was delayed by another engagement. Did something happen?”

  There were damp splotches peppered across her hair and clothes, but I needed only glance out the corridor to see it was sunny outside.

  Lady Irene flinched and dropped her intense gaze, shivering as if she only now remembered the cold of her wet clothes. “That was disrespectful for someone of my rank to say. And disgraceful for me to show myself in front of you like this. Please, have mercy on me!”

  Excuse me? I tilted my head in confusion. She’d only spoken the truth. I saw no reason for her to abase herself on my account. More importantly, if she didn’t change out of those clothes quickly, she’d catch cold. Before I could mention as much, a sharp voice cut through the air.

  “Lady Elianna!”

  I glanced to discover a red-haired knight, Lord Glen, the alarm clear on his face as he dashed over. He was even more drenched than Lady Irene and her maids. He studied me closely, eyes traveling up and down my body as if something had happened to me, but it wasn’t until he spotted my manservant nearby that he finally let out a sigh of relief. “So that’s it...” he muttered bitterly to himself.

  I shrank under his withering gaze. He must be disappointed in me for having the gall to keep everyone waiting on my account, must think it unbefitting of Prince Christopher’s fiancée.

  “Lord Glen,” Lady Irene began, in a voice much softer than she had used with me, as if to calm him, “you must change out of that quickly. No matter how capable of a knight you may be, you will still catch a cold if you stay in that.”

  Her soothing tone earned a sigh from him. “You needn’t worry about me, my lady. You’re also soaked yourself. I’d like to talk to you about what transpired. Allow me to see you to your room.” Lord Glen called a nearby guard and gave him strict instructions to escort me home. His gaze was more intense than I’d ever seen it before as he informed me, “The tea party has been canceled. The palace is in an uproar right now, so His Highness has his hands full. Please return to your residence for today.”

  “But...” I started to protest. I wanted him to at least hear the reason for my delay. Besides, it would reflect poorly on the prince if I didn’t deliver my apologies to the guests. But there was a rare unsettling aura about Lord Glen that gave no room for dissent, so the words hung unspoken.

  Lord Glen and Lady Irene began chatting amongst themselves as they left, and the guard who delivered me back home informed me there had been a plumbing failure in the rose garden. It wasn’t until I arrived back at our estate that I realized it had always been Lord Glen who had escorted me up until now. That day marked the beginning of me noticing the absence of things I’d grown accustomed to.

  It all made sense, reflecting back on things now—from the way Prince Theodore had acted so formal and curt, putting distance between us, to the way Lord Glen went from smiling welcomingly at me to politely drawing a line between us.

  Four years had passed since Prince Christopher named me his betrothed. I had interacted with all of the people close to him. Lord Glen, the red-headed knight, always acted warm and welcoming (unlike you might expect for someone in the palace), always willing to help me carry my books. Alexei, the Ice Scion, firmly believed in using any tools at his disposal (including his own parents) and often had me doing errands for him, such as delivering messages or sorting documents, when I wasn’t actively invested in a book of my own.

  There was a time when the four (or even five) of us, including His Highness, would banter and crack jokes together, and for the first time I had found something outside of books fun and enjoyable. It wouldn’t be long now before Lady Irene would be taking my place, I was sure. No, perhaps it was too late and I’d lost my place with them already. After all, the prince had let his mask down in front of her.

  “...Oh dear.”

  My feet stopped halfway down the corridor, one hand pressed tight against my chest. It felt as if a gaping hole had opened there. Even as dull-headed as I was, I realized then that I was in shock. The sight of the prince laughing was seared into the back of my eyelids and wouldn’t go away, alongside the image of him and Lady Irene looking so intimate, drawn together beneath the trees.

  I’d had a vague inkling that this day might come, but now that it was actually upon me, it was worse than I had imagined, with all the impact of a cannonball. In these past four years, I’d grown greatly attached to all of them and the time we’d shared.

  I was a fiancée in name only, a temporary placeholder to be removed when the prince found someone he truly loved. That’s all I was. All I was supposed to be.

  It was strange. My heart twisted so tight it brought me to tears. Me, the Bibliophile Princess. A sense of loss ate at me from the inside, one I hadn’t experienced since my mother passed away when I was six. I softly stroked the book in my other hand. Books had always consoled me in times like these. This one in particular I had received just six days ago from Prince Christopher. It had been a bright afternoon...

  Ever since the incident in the rose garden, the prince and Lord Glen had a tense aura about them. I, myself, felt unpleasant about the situation. I was reading a book as I always did when the prince called out to me, carrying a gentle aura about him.

  “I have a gift,” he said.

  I tilted my head ever so slightly. The prince didn’t often bring me gifts anymore. I always shuddered whenever we had a dance party or
outing and he presented lavish gifts of clothing or accessories (all for the purpose of keeping up appearances as the crown prince’s betrothed).

  How many books could you buy for the same price as this piece of jewelry?

  The question never left my lips, but the prince must not have seen fit to empty the treasury on account of his false fiancée, for shortly thereafter he ceased presenting me with such extravagant pieces. Thus it was rare for him to present any gifts, and my heart fluttered from the novelty.

  Prince Christopher beamed as he always did, holding out an unwrapped tome. “A Record of the Downfall of the Kai Arg Empire - Astrologian’s Edition. You wanted a book on the old empire that wasn’t written by a historian, yes? There aren’t very many copies in circulation out there so it was a bit of a hard find, but...I finally found it and wanted to hand it to you as soon as I could. I thought you’d enjoy it.” He spoke with a gentle smile on his face, his eyes monitoring my reaction in earnest.

  I was immediately at a loss for words, trembling with emotion. The book he’d obtained on my behalf was an extremely difficult one to find, even with my family’s connections, and I’d nearly given up on it. Now as I saw it before me, I was overcome with shock and emotion. More than anything, I was delighted that the prince would use his time and resources to go to the trouble of hunting it down for me.

  The feel of the foreign letters embossed on the cover as my hand ghosted over it made my heart flutter once again. “Thank you, Prince Christopher.” I wasn’t sure how better to convey my joy beyond those words. It was all I could do to gaze back at him, eyes trembling with emotion.

  “Good,” he grinned happily, as if relieved to see I was pleased.

  Recalling the happiness I felt back then helped soothe the emptiness I felt now. Even if the prince had someone he truly loved, someone he could be completely authentic with, and even if our engagement was annulled, Prince Christopher was not the type to treat me cruelly. Instead of waiting for the end to come, I summoned what little courage I had and decided to ask him myself.

  ~.~.~.~

  While I spent most of my time in the royal archives, the prince’s office was a close second. Entering such a place when I was merely his betrothed could present a number of problems, so I’d initially rejected his invitation, but then the prince had said, “This is the best place for you to be able to read completely uninterrupted.” And when I took him up on that offer, I discovered he was right. The room was cut off from the noise of the outside world. It really made me feel like he was honoring his initial promise.

  When I made a request of the chamberlain (with whom I was well-acquainted) to let me see His Highness, the man was terribly flustered. Was the prince receiving an important guest? I realized what was going on only after the door to the neighboring conference room popped open and a serving maid stepped out. A charming voice spilled out with her.

  “I never realized you were so interested in handiwork, Prince Christopher.”

  “That’s only because the way you talk about it is so intriguing, Lady Irene.”

  “Dear me,” she giggled delightedly.

  Their words pierced me through the heart, though I wasn’t sure at first whether to attribute the blame for that to the prince or Lady Irene. But Prince Christopher’s words followed soon enough, as if pouring salt on an already opened wound.

  “Even if I were to present a crafted work to you as a gift, I’m sure it wouldn’t compare to the quality of your house’s craftsman.”

  “So you’re saying you would give me a gift?” Her voice, overflowing with joy, was like a killing blow that echoed in my ears.

  So that’s how it is. Somewhere inside, the calmer part of me understood. I had accepted the prince’s gift, thinking it special, but it hadn’t meant anything to him. Suddenly the rare tome in my arms lost its luster and became meaningless. I felt like I might crumple to my knees. I let out a small, shaky breath, waved off the flustered maid, and slipped into the room.

  Prince Christopher jumped to his feet, unable to keep his composure. “Eli...?!”

  Inwardly, I felt confused that he would call me by that nickname now, a nickname used only by my family and those closest to me, but more importantly, I had to pay my respects as a lady and apologize for my unauthorized intrusion.

  “No, that’s fine,” he said, “but...weren’t you supposed to be visiting your aunt today?”

  I felt my gaze suddenly grow cold, which was something unusual for me. His words seemed to be a direct confession that he’d aimed for a time when I wouldn’t be in the palace so he could gallivant with another woman. Or at least that was the ill-natured interpretation that flashed through my mind.

  At the same time, I could feel the muscles in my face, which normally never moved, slip smoothly into a smile. “There are no words to properly convey my gratitude at your concern over my aunt’s illness, Your Highness. In truth, I had a small affair to attend to here today, but I apologize for interrupting what appears to be a delightful discussion.”

  “Uh, and what affair is that?” He was being unusually timid.

  The room was full of its usual occupants: Glen, who for some reason had a hand pressed over his face, and Alexei, who had a hand to his forehead as if he were battling a migraine. Lady Irene, the only woman in the room, looked shocked, but the moment she recognized me, she had that same look of terror she’d worn before.

  My eyes didn’t hover on any of those three. There was only one person I focused my gaze on, and that was Prince Christopher. I mimicked him, grinning wide as he always did, giving the biggest smile I could muster. “About this book that you gifted to me the other day...I’ll be returning it to you.”

  “Huh...” The prince froze solid, looking unusually comical.

  I watched him as I declared, “I don’t need it anymore.” After one last glance, I left the book on the table, bowed, and saw myself out. No one called out to stop me.

  I was pretty spaced out after arriving back home. My father and brother visited when they returned, but my mood remained dour and I refused dinner, holing up in my room. I, the Bibliophile Princess, didn’t feel like reading any books.

  Enough, it’s about time you admit it, I thought, sighing to myself as I sat alone in my darkened room. Why was it such a surprise, such a shock for me to see Prince Christopher reveal his true self in front of another woman? Why was I in such despair—to the point of tears, to the point of falling to my knees—at realizing that his present hadn’t been anything special? Why was it that my chest felt so tight, so unbelievably painful? Why was it that with each breath, my heart seemed to ache?

  “...That must be it.”

  It was because I loved Prince Christopher.

  I had no idea when these feelings had started. But it was in the way the sun shone off his golden hair, the way his eyes looked like the sky on a cloudless day, the way his voice sounded so dignified as he dispensed orders, the way he held himself so proudly as royalty. And how, sometimes, there was an iciness about him when he demonstrated his strict decisiveness. My chest panged with the memories.

  For the first time I understood what a foolish person I’d been. I put on a clever farce, feigned indifference in the face of a possible annulment, but in truth, I wasn’t even aware of my own feelings. I was just a big-headed Bibliophile Princess. No matter how many books I read or how much I studied the knowledge of our predecessors, none of it had proved useful in this situation. I’d realized my feelings too late. My own heart didn’t even work the way I wanted.

  A laugh slipped out of me, mocking my own misery.

  I had no idea what to do from now on. My books offered me no answers. The only thing I did understand was that the person the prince would now invite on sunny days to read to him beneath the shade of the trees, and on rainy days to enjoy tea time alone with, wouldn’t be me.

  I watched vacantly as the night wore on, unable to summon the will to do anything.

  Act 2: One-Woman Show

&nbs
p; Two days flew by since I saw the prince with Lady Irene. I sat at breakfast, a single letter in hand, and informed my father and brother of my plans for the day.

  “From Prince Theodore?”

  I nodded in response to my brother’s question. “I still have a dictionary I took from the archives, so I’ll go return it today.”

  Just four days prior, I went to the archives to borrow said dictionary, unable to finish my book without it. I’d returned the book but accidentally took the dictionary home with me.

  I wracked my brain trying to think if there were any other tomes I’d yet to return. There was also the room they’d provided for me when I was welcomed into the palace. It would be agonizing work, but I should pack my things there quickly.

  While my brother was lost in thought, my father called over to me. “Oh, Eli. There’s something I’d like your input on.”

  “Yes?”

  My father, a man in his mid-forties with white strands peppered amongst his light brown hair, was an easygoing, carefree type of person. It was rare for him to seek my counsel for anything. Formerly he worked under Prince Theodore as an archive official (though it was really a job in name only), but since I became Prince Christopher’s betrothed, the post no longer suited our elevated status, and Father was selected to work as a cabinet minister in the Ministry of Finance. My brother’s situation was similar, his days kept busy as the prime minister’s aide. Once again I felt guilty for the responsibilities I’d forced upon my family.

  “We received a letter from your grandfather not long ago, if you’ll remember. You haven’t been back in so long. What do you say? Fred and I will take a holiday, and the three of us can go back together.”

  “Father,” my older brother Alfred cut in, his tone strict and reprimanding.