My footsteps echoed in the dimly lit corridor as I walked toward the library. It had become a routine of sorts to, visit the library when I would have a nightmare, which, incidentally, was every night. I'd only been in Lithanium for about a week, but already I was falling into a pattern. It was oddly comforting.

I gripped my book in my left hand, pressing it into my side as I walked. I had not even thought to bring my map with me tonight. My only thought upon waking was that I wanted to be in the library. As it turned out, I didn't really need the map to get there anymore. I found it all on my own. Even as I reached it, the familiar scent of ink and decaying parchment reached me. I took a deep breath, feeling myself begin to relax.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door and immediately realized something was different. The first thing I noticed was that the room was brighter. Lit torches sat in sconces along the walls and against bookcases, which should have raised some concern. Didn't things catch on fire in the faerie realm too? Who would ever put torches next to bookshelves with thousand-year-old books that would burn up in the time it took a person to blink?

I shook my head disbelievingly and looked around. I paused when my eyes fell on the figure leaning over a table littered with piles of papers and opened books.

Rylan glanced at me when I entered. "Hello, Lyra." He said pleasantly.

I stared at him for a moment, confused. "You do know it is past midnight, right? Why are you still awake?"

He looked back down at his work, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly in a half-smile that nearly stole my breath. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he stared at the papers before him. Even as he pored over the books and papers, I could not help but notice how attractive he was.

I'd never been the kind to swoon over a man for his appearance. But, if there was ever a moment for it, it would have been now. My older sister, Elysia, had always had a weakness for pretty faces. She could be caught fawning over any man whose outward appearance met her standards. So few did.

"Just because the sun has gone down does not mean my work has disappeared." He answered, shoving aside a book to pull out a piece of worn parchment with scribbled writing on it.

I'd been so intent on watching him that I'd forgotten I'd asked a question. My face flushed and I smiled sheepishly at him. "Of course not, sorry. What are you working on?" I moved out of the doorway and walked to the table that Rylan occupied.

He did not look up at me as I approached. He was staring fixedly on the work scattered before him. He shook his head, his dark hair swinging back and forth with the movement. "Nothing all that important." He answered. "It's just a battle strategy."

"It sounds important." Looking down at the paper he was now reading, I found that it was written in a different language. I stared at it for a moment, as though it would help me to decipher it, but the language remained the same. I had no idea what the parchment said. I could barely read any of the words. Though the scribbled handwriting did not help, I was fairly certain some of the letters on the paper weren't in any alphabet I'd ever read about.

He shook his head. "It's really not. It is an old battle strategy that was used during a civil war long ago, but I stumbled across it last night and thought it might be useful, even now. I was going to try to learn a bit more about it before I handed it over to Tristan. I want to make sure I understand it before I try to make my commander understand it."

"But you're a king. Have you ever even witnessed a war? What do you know about battle strategies?" I asked, a little bit incredulous. My words were not intended to provoke him or anything. It was merely innocent curiosity that led me to ask the question.

He stopped what he was doing and straightened, turning to face me. There was an amused look on his face, though I did not understand why. "Before I became king, I was the commander. I've seen more battles that I would ever like to know. I've watched my comrades go down and I've witnessed the destruction of nations. I know more than most about battle strategies and how war works."

My face burned. "Oh, sorry." I mumbled. "I didn't realize . . ."

"No, it's alright. It is not like I make a point of telling all my guests about my years as a soldier." He looked back down at his paper. He dipped his quill in ink and scrawled something in that same language on the parchment.

I nodded, my eyes watching his hand as he wrote. The way he wrote with the quill was elegant and refined, making it seem more like art than just simple annotations. His writing was neat and small, with elegant little loops and curves connecting the letters to each other.

"Did you come in here to read?" Rylan asked after a moment, interrupting my thoughts. His eyes remained on the page as he spoke.

I could suddenly feel the spine of the book digging into my side, feel the weight of it in my arm. I'd completely forgotten about it before he'd said something. "Yes, I did. You wouldn't mind, would you? I won't bother you."

"Feel free," was his indifferent reply.

I smiled a little and walked to the chairs before the fireplace and took a seat. Curled up in my usual chair, I opened my book and began to read.

Over the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, I could hear Rylan's quill scratching against the parchment. I'd stopped reading and was just listening. The sound of it was soft and almost like a lullaby.

Suddenly, I remembered a time when I was only a little girl. My mother could often be found writing in her office. She'd loved to write the way I loved to paint. She never showed me what she wrote, but it was a book, I think. Though, I do not think she ever planned to show it to anybody.

When I was very small and could not sleep or had a bad dream, I would go to her office, where I knew I would find my mother. That's what I'd done on this night.

"Can't sleep, dear?" She'd asked me in her soft, unassuming voice.

"No, mama, I can't." I had replied as I stood in the doorway.

She'd smiled her calm, gentle smile and looked at me, her quill poised to continue writing. "If you want, you can try to sleep in here, while I work." She said.

Wordlessly, I had wandered over to the fireplace where the fire was crackling merrily. I'd lain down beside the hearth and curled up. Mother had gone back to writing on the parchment and I could hear the quill scratching softly against it. Even back then, I'd found the sound rather calming. It was soft and constant, and, not long after I laid down, I'd drifted off to sleep . . .

I drew a sharp breath, jolting upright. I had not even realized I'd been falling asleep until my head had fallen forward and I nearly fell out of the chair. Rylan's hand stilled, and silence followed.

Exhaustion tugged at me as I rubbed my eyes. When I looked over at Rylan, I found his eyes on me. Though, he quickly looked away when our eyes met.

Was he ever going to sleep? I thought to myself.

He began to write again and I watched him. "What are you writing?" I asked curiously.

He glanced at me and back down at the paper. "Notes," was his short response.

I nodded my head and continued to watch his hand move fluidly across the page, holding the quill as I would hold a paint brush. My heart ached a little at the thought, but I shoved it back down inside of me.

Rylan's hand stilled again and he looked up, his eyes finding mine. "Is there a reason you're staring at me like that?" He asked.

My cheeks flushed. I hadn't realized I was staring. I shook my head, smiling vaguely. "It's nothing." I said. "Just a bit nostalgic is all."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nostalgic? Why?"

I don't know why I told him, exactly. But I did. "When I was younger, my mother would often write in her office," I explained. "I liked to sleep by the fireplace when she did."

He nodded thoughtfully. "What was your mother like?" He asked.

His question startled me and I looked at him. He looked genuinely curious, though I couldn't really imagine why. The fey didn't really liked getting involved with humans. In fact, most hated us.

I shut my book and set it in my lap. "She was a wonderful woman," I began, smiling to myself as I leaned over the chair to tell him.

He set down the quill and joined me by the fireplace. He sat down in the chair closest to mine and listened as I spoke.

"She was so beautiful and kind and lovely. She has blond hair and gray eyes, the color of storm clouds. She is a smaller woman, with small hands and she always looks a little bit fragile, like she could break. But she never broke, no matter what. She was a kind person. She loved gardening and animals. My eldest sister, Elysia hated spiders, but my mother would never let her kill them. She would pick up the little spider and take it outside. Animals loved her too. Sometimes they would follow her. It made me jealous when I was a little girl. I wanted the animals to follow me." I smiled fondly at the memories that rose to the forefront of my mind. Rylan sat beside me, listening intently as I spoke of my mother, and did not interrupt once. He watched me as I spoke animatedly, smiling a little. And, although I still didn't know Rylan very well, I was happy that he wanted to hear about my family and I did not waste any time in telling him.

"She was kind to everyone she met," I continued enthusiastically. "She would make food for the people in our village that did not have as much. And she would help at the church often. Everyone loved her and knew who she was. When our family hosted parties, everyone in the village would come. She was soft spoken and would listen to anyone. I rarely saw her angry, but her anger was terrifying. My siblings and I would try very hard to keep from making her angry, because none of us wanted to see that. Her anger was the calm, cold type. She almost never yelled at anybody, but she would speak with this calm and detached sort of voice that was quite scary. That did not happen often, though. She loved to smile and laugh, so being angry didn't really suit her personality. I miss her." I concluded, feeling the ache in my heart grow.

Rylan was watching me thoughtfully, a distant smile upon his lips. "What was her name?" He asked.

"Nerissa," I replied. I had been so busy talking about her that I'd forgotten to mention her name.

"She sounds wonderful." He said and his voice was gentler than I expected.

I nodded and smiled. A lump had formed in my throat at the thought of my mother and I swallowed against it, willing the tears to stay back.

He looked away suddenly and sighed. "It is late. You should go to bed." His voice was colder now, but not angry.

"What about you? Don't you sleep?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Well, of course I sleep." He answered stiffly. "I just have things to do. I sleep when I have time."

"That's not what you're supposed to do. Everyone needs sleep. If you're going to make me go to bed, then I'm going to do the same to you." I replied indignantly and crossed my arms for effect.

He gave me an exasperated look. "You're acting like a child."

I did not answer. I just took his hand and pulled him up. He stood willingly, watching me and looking exasperated.

Picking up my book, I turned and walked toward the door, still holding on to Rylan. His hand was warm and it was much bigger than mine. I could feel the roughness of it from years spent training.

"Are you really going to make me go to bed?" He asked irritably.

"Yes, I am. You need sleep." I replied sternly. "Now, where is your room?"

He sighed, sounding frustrated. But, he gave me directions to his room, albeit begrudgingly. His room was up another set of stairs and at the end of a hallway. I'd never even been up here, so I really had no idea where I was. His doors were large and made of heavy oak. Against the wall beside his door there was a tall marble stand. On the stand sat a plush, red cushion. And, sitting on that plush, red cushion sat the largest sapphire stone I had ever seen, though I really hadn't seen very many. It sat in the middle of the red pillow and was bigger than my hand. I stared at it, wide-eyed.

"Why is there a giant sapphire sitting outside your door?" I asked Rylan, whose hand paused on the door handle.

He glanced at it and then at me. "I don't really know why it sits there. That's just where it has always been. It's been a part of the family for so long that no one really knows where it came from. It's said to have some sort of magical power that has yet to be awoken." He shrugged and pushed open the door to his room. "But at the moment, it just sits there."

Rylan turned to me, then, a look of realization on his face. "Do you know how to get back down to your room?" He asked.

I hadn't thought about that. I hesitated. But we were already at his room so I couldn't really ask him to come back down to my room with me. "Yes, I know how to get back to my room." I answered with a confidence I didn't feel.

A knowing look passed over his face and his lips quirked into a small smile. "Liar," Rylan said, shaking his head. He shut his bedroom door and began walking back down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" I asked, following after him.

"Well, I don't exactly want you wandering around all night until you find your room. I'm pretty sure you never would." He said over his shoulder as I hurried to catch up.

"I told you I could find it." I replied indignantly.

He glanced at me. "I don't believe you."

I averted my eyes and stared at the floor. Neither of us spoke while we walked. I was busy trying to figure out how to get back to my room, but Rylan seemed to have that part covered. We reached my room after several minutes and I turned to face Rylan when we reached my door.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded, his eyes meeting mine. In the dim glow of the corridor, his dark blue-violet eyes looked black.

"Are you going to go back to the library now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he shook his head. "I think I'll go to bed." He answered. "That is why you made me go all the way to my room. Except, you couldn't find your way back, so now we're here."

My face heated up and I looked down. "Sorry . . ."

I felt his hand on my cheek and I looked back up into his dark eyes. He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating from him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, but he did not really smile. Still, the look set my heart racing and I really hoped he couldn't hear it, with his heightened fey hearing. "Good night, Lyra," he said softly. I could feel his breath against my lips and my skin tingled where he touched my cheek.

My heart beat quickened. My eyes were wide as I stared up at Rylan. "Good night." My voice was barely above a whisper.

His hand fell away from my face and he stepped back. I vaguely noticed that I felt colder, now that he was no longer so close. Rylan turned and walked back down the hallway the way we'd come, before disappearing around a corner.

Once he was gone, I stepped into my room and shut the door. Even though the moment was over, I felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. I sighed, shaking my head, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted. I walked over and climbed into my bed, but thoughts of Rylan stayed with me all night.

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Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you think, I am always open to feedback! That goes for if you see grammatical errors as well. Another thing: the title is temporary. I don't think it fits that well with my story, so if you have any ideas please tell me! You can message me privately, leave a comment, or post on my page!

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