It had been years since Tommaso had spent time in the Imperial Archive.
Sure, he’d walked through the main doors any number of times, but he hadn’t been further than the main reading room, where he’d lurked awkwardly behind whichever Imperial prince or princess he was guarding that day as they ordered a copy of some scandalous new novel, or hunched grumbling, over a tutor-assigned research report.
This space was not the bright, spacious hub of the Archive. It was dusty, dimly lit, and the narrow paths between looming shelves twisted like a labyrinth.
His charge today was Princess Isabella, the second-oldest of the Imperial daughters. Of which the Emperor had many, useful prizes to hand out to valued allies and supporters. Most referred to them as a group as beautiful and varied as a garden of flowers.
Princess Isabella though, she was no flower. More a viper. A watchful viper wrapped in wine-red velvet. It wouldn’t do for anyone to discover how intoxicating Tommaso found her.
Right now, he followed hard on her heels as she swept down book-lined alleyways that hadn’t been disturbed in decades. How did she know where she was going? She didn’t seem to need the lantern Tommaso held, barely pausing when the flame spluttered, dimmed, then steadied again.
Finally, she stopped in an open space where several shelf-alleys converged and the princess turned to him. “Who do you like best of my father’s brats, Tommaso?”
How did she know his name? He was meant to be just another anonymous guard. He tried to keep his expression blank as he replied. “I don’t play favourites, Your Highness.”
She smirked, then pressed close, wrapping one arm around his waist. “I do.”
The lantern went out.
The DNA of Stories 