The Rebel Assassin

Chapter 16: The Noble Records

Nemia quietly dropped from the window onto the top floor of the library.

There were four levels. The top one that she'd landed on was a narrow balcony wrapping all the way around the interior of library's walls, with just enough room for shelves pressed against the walls and space to walk past them. Looking over the railing, she saw a wider balcony beneath it, with room for several people to stroll along the shelves. Below that, shadowed in the darkness, the next balcony was even wider; she thought she could see desks near the railing. The first and only full floor was below that, only its center visible from the top balcony.

That center of the first floor caught the moonlight shining from the skylight in the ceiling, the same size as the square of first floor not covered by balconies, and where the moonlight fell on the floor shone a design in gold etched into the marble. The Guardian Sign.

Nemia pressed her hand over her shoulder, where her own Sign was etched into the skin beneath her tunic. Did she imagine that it hummed in response to that silver-gold sigil?

A shadow shifted. A guard walked across the sign on the floor without bothering to look up. Nemia withdrew from the railing and focused her mind on her mission. She needed books on noble lineage. That was sure to be popular reading material with nobles, so probably not kept on the level that required so many stairs. She needed to be on the first floor.

Stairs seemed like the most obvious place for a thief to be caught, so she opted to ignore them, swinging herself over the railing instead.

She landed on the next balcony, crouched low and tense until she was sure she'd raised no alarm. She did the same to the next level, then waited on the lowest balcony. Another jump would take her to the first floor. She'd already seen one guard down there. Was it safe?

Her internal debate over how best to proceed was interrupted by the guard making the decision for her. He was coming up the stairs, and she was standing not far from them out in the open like an idiot.

Instinct taking over, she scrambled over the railing and fell, rolling on impact until she was sure she was in the shadow of the first balcony.

Stupid set up, making it impossible to see all but the center of the first floor from the balconies. Very lucky for her, though.

After a few seconds, there was no sign of the guard having heard or seen her or coming back down. She got up and looked around. Shelves labeled Solangian History, Geography, Magework, Poetry, Novels surrounded her in rows.

Cabinets lining the wall had locks and tens of tiny labels at each door. That looked promising, if only because the universe was likely to make this as difficult as possible. She lit the tiny lamp she'd brought, conscious of how little fuel it held, and held it up to the labels on one cabinet.

Klytestra. Kolebriten. Kysterian.

Her heart jumped. Noble families, in alphabetical order. She didn't recognize Kysterian, and a sharp line was struck through the name. That would make sense, if these were records of noble family's lineage and the Kysterians had died out. She was in the right place.

If she was in the K's, L was the next cabinet... she shouldn't look for Laycreek, shouldn't care about that family at all after the way Irina used her. But she couldn't help her gaze traveling to the next cabinet.

There. Laycreek. The first name on the cabinet's labels, or nearly. Because just above it a smaller label had been stuck on, its name penned in by a different hand than all the others.

Laerhart.

Nemia fumbled for the lock picks, her hands shaking. Her mind didn't dare even form a question.

Find the right picks. Slide them in. Her fingers nudged them around in tiny, shaking movements, following the lessons Morie had once given her without conscious will. The lock clicked and opened on the inside of the cabinet, exhaling the dust and trapped air of years. Five shelves matching with the labels outside held thick, leather-bound books. Half their pages wavy and warped with ink, the other half lying smooth and flat, the history of Solangia's nobility shown with a glance. The scribes who bound those books thought the age of the nobles would last twice as long as it had so far. If the revolution succeeded, they had been terribly wrong.

Five books for the five labels outside. But the newer label, the Laerhart label, had no match. Nemia looked at the cabinet door, the way Laerhart had been squished above Laycreek. Then she unceremoniously pulled the book of Irina's ancestors out of its cubby and dropped it on the floor.

Reaching her arm in up to her elbow, her fingers hit the back of the cabinet and scrabbled at it. This wasn't deep enough to be the real back...

The tips of her fingers caught on a loop of leather, distinguishable only by touch. She pulled on it, felt the false wood back give way.

Carefully, she slid the thin volume out from the shadows and looked at it in the light of her lamp.

This one had no leather binding. It simply began the record of Morane's family. She was sure of this because she went first to the last pages added to the record and saw:

Rutharia Laerhart wedded to Orem Verivain yr. 1274 (line continued in Verivain record)

Naomi Laerhart wedded to Elias Morovan yr. 1279

Kayim Laerhart born yr. 1281

Adina Laerheart born yr. 1282

Kempar Laerhart born yr. 1290

She'd come here for the Verivain records. She could hardly find it in herself to be surprised that the connection was really there. But why was Laerhart listed as a noble house? It couldn't be because Morie had an aunt that became a Verivain, not when this record was clearly so much older than that.

She turned the record over, smoothing the parchment cover where Morie's lineage began.

Let the records of the noble houses of Solangia show that in this year 531 a new house is named.

Juno Solan, unwedded affair outside her marriage to Helias Kysterian with an unnamed man

Mariva, first of those named Laerhart, born yr. 531

There was a reason for the way coldness spread from her fingers to her body at those lines, but it took her mind longer to understand it than the rest of her.

Solan. The noble name from which Solangia had been taken.

Juno Solan. The greatest queen in Solangian history.

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Hey guys! Been a while since I did an author's note, I think? Anyway, sorry this is a short chapter. Sometimes getting inspiration to keep going with this story is tough, but it's worth it (I only changed my mind about how Nemia should find this out about a million times...). Hopefully I'll get around to posting some of the short stories I've written in the meantime to wattpad soon, then at least I'll be uploading more even if it's not Guardian Cycle-related. But there are plenty more Rebel Assassin twists coming up (and I've been planning some of these since The Royal Thief so you know it's got to be a game changer). Thanks for sticking with me!