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He’d always thought it to be a bit strange, the way Lisa had set up the library. He couldn’t say it wasn’t organized, for everything was in its proper section and easy enough to locate. But it was like a contrived labyrinth of sorts—you couldn’t get anywhere without brushing past somebody with an awkward intimacy at least once. It was an urban legend of sorts that if you wanted to find a lover, you needed only to wander Lisa’s library until you crossed them. For him, staring through the shelving with his hand flat on top of another’s, it became very clear that the sly librarian had surely cursed slash blessed this domain with some mysterious sort of magic.
“Sorry,” he apologized, withdrawing his hand like he’d been burnt. The warmth of the woman’s hand tingled beneath his palm as she raised her hands to gesture fretfully.
“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there.”
He cleared his throat as they lulled into an uncomfortable silence. Something—he had to say something, right?
“I didn’t think many people were interested in this volume,” he managed finally. “It’s not exactly light reading.”
“No,” she agreed, her expression softening into a smile at him. Despite the books and wood obscuring his vision of her, he realized she was… very pretty. The way the sun slanted through the cathedral style windows onto her face made her look like she was glowing. If he were to paint this scene, he wasn’t sure he could fully capture the light of her essence. “But I like to read all sorts of different things.”
“Yes; I do too.”
He groaned internally; how awkward was that? He’d never been a gifted orator, but surely, he had to have something better to say to this poor girl. He could feel his thoughts running the way they did whenever he found something new to study. There were so many possibilities blooming from that one moment, each bud its own beautiful flower, all together to form a grand landscape. In fact, he was so lost in said thoughts that he didn’t even notice she had crossed the barrier, presenting him with the book right in front of him. He stared down at the cover as if looking at her would be too much.
“You should go ahead and check it out first. I probably wouldn’t finish it in time. I’m the easily distracted type, y’know? I still have too many things to get to.” She laughed, a strand of hair slipping out from behind her ear as she looked down. He had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck it away.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind letting you lend it first since there’s only one copy.”
“I’m sure. You can tell me about it after over some tea or something, Master Albedo. Does that sound fair?” Her lips were quirked up in a mischievous fashion, and he had never felt so paralyzed before. No amount of cryo magic, even in the depths of Dragonspine, could hope to compare to the way her eyes held him in limbo.
“Y-yes, that sounds fair.” He should’ve figured that she would recognize him—despite his best efforts to keep his head down and focus on work, he always ended up giving a hand here and there, and by woe of pure accident his face had become just as well known as the Wine Tycoon’s or the Grand Master’s. She stepped to walk past him, and he whirled after her like flowers following the sun. “And your name?”
She grinned. “A genius like you would have no problem figuring it out, no?”
Love at first sight isn’t logical. It doesn’t exist. You’d have to prove it through rigorous experimentation, controlled trials, explored variables—but holy Celestia, was his heart racing long after she’d left.
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You weren’t sure when the book had gotten to your doorstep, neatly wrapped in parchment and bound more securely than any of your other parcels. It was like it’d been carefully dropped off rather than delivered by postage. Inside the cover of the volume you recognized very easily was a pressed Cecilia flower that seemed to have been used as a bookmark. Alongside it was a note on heavy cardstock, the inked handwriting delicate but bold:
To [Name],
I eagerly await to catch you up on this reading.
Yours,
Albedo.
You hugged the novel to your chest, biting down a goofy smile. The faintest perfume of blossoms wrapped around you like another set of arms. The Chalk Prince—did he even know how much of a romantic he could be without even being present?