The royal library of Oakhart had always felt to Selene like a cathedral. Its vaulted ceilings stretched high overhead, ribbed with beams of dark oak, and shelves upon shelves of leather-bound tomes seemed to vanish into shadowed alcoves. Dust hung in the air like glittering motes of memory, stirred only when she pulled a book free or turned a fragile page.
She had come here in secret after supper, slipping away from the noise of the courtiers. Though she tried to convince herself it was simple curiosity, she knew better. The image of the fallen book — the one that had burst open to reveal an illustration of the moon goddess — still haunted her. She had to know more.
Her fingers traced the cracked spines of old texts until she found the one she sought. *Legends of the Ancient Weave*. The title was pressed in fading gold. When she carried it to a nearby reading table and set it down, the weight of it seemed to echo in the chamber.
Carefully, she opened to the section marked with a ribbon. There, etched in aged ink, was an image: a woman crowned in silver, her arms outstretched, the curve of the crescent moon cradling her shoulders. At her feet, stars coiled like living fire.
The caption beneath the picture was smudged, almost unreadable: *Dianna, the daughter of the night, Weaver of the Moonlight.*
Selene's chest tightened. The face in the drawing was not hers, not exactly — and yet the resemblance was close enough to make her breath catch.
She leaned closer, but her brow furrowed when she noticed something strange. The opposite page had been torn out. Jagged edges of parchment clung stubbornly to the spine, as if someone had deliberately ripped it free. What had been on it? A continuation of Dianna's tale? Or perhaps something darker — something someone didn't want remembered?
Before she could wonder further, a sharp voice broke the silence.
"So this is where you hide yourself."
Selene's head snapped up. Across the long rows of shelves, Princess Kylie stepped into the lamplight, her gown a cascade of emerald silk that shimmered with every step. A thin smile curved her lips, though her eyes gleamed with disdain.
Selene rose instinctively, her body tense. "Princess Kylie. I didn't expect—"
"You didn't expect me to wander into my own family's library?" Kylie's laugh was delicate, practiced. She glided closer, gaze flicking to the book before Selene. "*Legends of the Ancient Weave*. How quaint. I suppose even peasants crave pretty stories."
Heat pricked Selene's cheeks. She fought to keep her voice steady. "Knowledge belongs to everyone, not just the noble-born."
Kylie's smile vanished, replaced with a sharp glare. "Careful." She circled the table, her hands trailing over the spines of books as though claiming them. "You may have wormed your way into Oakhart's court, but you are still nothing more than a foundling girl plucked from obscurity. Do not pretend that Lyra's favor changes your station."
At the mention of Lyra, Selene stiffened. Kylie noticed, and her eyes narrowed.
"Ah," she breathed, the word sharp as glass. "So it's true. You think you can stand at her side, do you? That she might look at you the way she once looked at me?"
Selene's throat tightened. She hadn't expected the conversation to turn here, so raw, so quickly. "I don't—"
"Don't lie to me," Kylie snapped. She leaned close, her perfume thick with roses and something bitter beneath. "You think I don't see the way she shields you? The way she listens when you speak? Lyra was mine, and you've bewitched her with your sad eyes."
Her voice dropped lower, laced with venom.
"Do you even realize what you've cost us? My father offered Lyra a chance to secure Oakhart's strength — an alliance sealed in marriage. And she refused. For what?" Her gaze swept Selene from head to toe, contempt curling her lip. "For you. For a nameless girl who crept in from nowhere. She begged for a year of freedom instead of duty, and I know why. It's you. You are the reason she turned her back on everything."
Selene's hands curled into fists at her sides. For once, she found words. "Lyra belongs to no one. Not to you. Not to me. She chooses her own path."
The library seemed to grow colder in the silence that followed. Kylie's jaw tightened. Her eyes glistened, but the shimmer was anger, not tears.
"You will regret crossing me," she whispered.
With a whirl of silk, she swept from the chamber, her footsteps echoing like a warning bell.
Selene exhaled slowly, her body trembling. She sank back into her chair and stared down at the torn book. Her fingers brushed the edges of the missing page, and she couldn't shake the thought that it had been stolen for a reason.
Some truths were being hidden — truths tied to Dianna, to the Moon Weavers, and perhaps to herself.
And now, with Kylie's jealousy laid bare, Selene knew the library was no longer a refuge. It was a battlefield, and every page she turned might put her further in danger.