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"What are we waiting for?" I ask them.
"Oh." Eris clicks her tongue. "I think we have to ring the bell to signal the Master of Literature."
I look at the service bell and tap the top, letting the melodic alert ring through the silent as a graveyard space. I'm not sure who I expected the Master of Literature to be, but I definitely didn't expect a broad-shouldered woman standing about four feet tall to abandon her work in one of the aisles to make her way to the half-moon reception desk and greet us.
"Welcome to Calmara." She smiles and the corners of her eyes crinkle. "I am Penelope Blackwater, Master of Literature. Tell me what you seek, and I will point you in the right direction."
Too stunned to speak, I just stare at her. I've heard tales about Dwarves and even saw a few of them at a distance in Bava, but I haven't been this close to one of them before. Her wild, short brown curls are clipped on the sides, keeping hair off her pale face so I can see her piercing blue eyes. She eyes me just as curiously as I do her and for a few seconds, we say nothing. It isn't until Nyx clears his throat that I'm released from whatever hypnotizing spell I'm under.
I open my mouth to apologize for blatantly staring at her, but she blurts in reverential awe, "You must be the half-blood everyone is talking about!"
I crinkle my nose. "Half-blood?"
"It means mixed," Eris quickly explains. "You aren't a full-blooded Frost Elf."
"Do you truly possess the magic of the Celestials?" It's hard to miss the excitement in the Master of Literature's tone, but I nod, spurring her to clap her hands together twice. "This is truly wondrous. I was told you might come visit our library, but in truth, I never expected to see you here at Calmara, my lady. Most fire wielders don't show any interest in our archives, so it is an honor to have you here. What do you need help with? Consider me at your complete disposal."
I'm used to people fawning over me in Midori, and if I'm being honest, I loved every second of their admiration and adoration, but here, I find it uncomfortable. Not that Penelope Blackwater did anything wrong. People normally compliment or praise me for my physical looks – my hair, my eyes, my dress, my crown, my jewels— but here, whispers about me are circulating, highlighting my rare magic. Magic I still don't understand or have control over.
"I'm sorry," the Dwarf groans, slapping her hands to her reddening cheeks. "I have offended you, and I assure you, my lady, that was not my intent—"
I don't know if it's proper, but I reach over the desk and grab her forearm, drawing her gaze and cutting off the rest of her apology. "There was no offense." I offer her a reassuring smile. "I would be grateful for any assistance you can offer."
Her blue eyes brighten as she bobs her head. "Anything you need, consider it yours."
"Do you have any books about the Celestials?"
She smiles and motions us to follow her. "I will show you where they are."
Eagerly, we follow the Dwarf, but my intrusive thoughts get the better of me and I say lowly, as to not disturb anyone studying nearby, "May I ask you a question, Master Blackwater?"
"Oh, please, call me Penelope, Your Highness."
"Then I insist you call me Shaye." We exchange a friendly look before I ask, "Penelope, how did you end up in Tronovia?"
"I was born here," she says simply. "My parents left Durne when the Mad King was in power."
"Mad King?" I don't recall hearing about him during my lessons. Penelope nods as we trek toward the grand staircase at the far end of the library.
"King Valdemar Argyle was said to have heard voices whispering to him. Paranoia consumed him, fully believing those closest to him were looking to supplant him. He ordered all of his advisors, personal guards, and even his own children to be executed for conspiring against him." We continue our way up the wide wooden staircase with a forest-green runner. "My father was one of his advisors and in the middle of the night, he and my mother escaped Durne. The Tronovians accepted hundreds of Dwarves looking for refuge. It wasn't until the Mad King was assassinated years later that misplaced Dwarves returned to the Mountain Kingdom. My family, however, stayed. We'd made a life for ourselves here and I was doing well in school. I worked hard, studied harder, and made my way up the ranks until I was named Master of Literature."
"I hadn't heard of him before," I hang on to every word she speaks like it's a juicy morsel of food. "Who assassinated him?"
"His wife," she says in obvious glee. "Most of the Mad King's children and even his wife went into hiding, biding their time and avoiding the executioner's axe. But the second born of his four sons, and rumored to be his father's favorite, grew tired of waiting and abandoned safety to meet with the king. Prince Greer tried to reason with his father, but he was too far gone, consumed and blinded by his paranoia, and drove a knife straight through his son's heart.
"The queen never forgave and never forgot what her husband had done to their son, and when the opportunity presented itself, she sneaked back into the mountain and slit her husband's throat as he slept. She made sure her eldest son, Prince Torben, took the throne. He was the one who led the Dwarven army against Drogon and his demons. Once the war ended, he made amends with the Dwarves that his father had run off and persecuted. He still sits on the throne to this day."
"Wow!" I can't help my reaction. I've never heard the Dwarven history before and it sounds like something straight out of a novel. "In spite of everything that happened, you and your family chose to stay here. Why?"
"Tronovia is my home," she smiles up at me. "And I love Calmara far too much to leave."
"Thank you for sharing your story with me, Penelope."
"Thank you for listening."
We finally make it to the top of the steps when a stunning woman with blonde hair pulled back in a long ponytail appears from one of the rows, a stack of books piled in her arms. She is wearing the same dark green robes as Penelope, except her uniform doesn't have the same symbols across the chest. The woman's forearms tremble from the weight of the books and Nyx slides up beside her, offering to help.
"This is Cleo," Penelope introduces. "She is one of our brightest scribes and is assigned upstairs today. If you need anything and I'm not available, feel free to ask her for assistance."
