Not that she had anything better to do with her time. Her day. Her life.
Whatever clarity she’d felt in the training ring levels and levels above fogged up again. Whatever calm and quiet she’d managed to capture in her head had dissipated like smoke. Only moving would keep it at bay.
Nesta found the next shelf required—quite a ways above her head, with no stool in sight. She rose onto her toes, legs shrieking in protest, but it was too high. Nesta was on the taller side for a female, standing a good two inches above Feyre, but this shelf was out of reach. Grunting, she attempted to shelve the book with her fingertips, arms straining.
“Oh, good. It’s you,” a familiar female voice said from down the row. Nesta pivoted to discover Gwyn striding swiftly toward her, arms laden with books and coppery hair shimmering in the dim light.
Nesta didn’t bother to look pleasant as she lowered herself fully onto her feet.
Gwyn angled her head, as if finally realizing what she’d been doing. “Can’t you use magic to put it up on the shelf?”
“No.” The word was cool and sullen.
Gwyn’s brows twitched toward each other. “You don’t mean to tell me you’ve been shelving everything by hand?”
“How else would I do it?”
Gwyn’s teal eyes narrowed. “You have power, though, don’t you?”
“It’s none of your concern.” It was no one’s concern. She had none of the High Fae’s usual gifts. Her power—that thing—was utterly alien. Grotesque.
But Gwyn shrugged. “Very well.” She dumped her books right into Nesta’s arms. “These can go back.”
Nesta staggered under the books’ weight and glared.
Gwyn ignored the look, instead glancing around before lowering her voice. “Have you seen volume seven of Lavinia’s The Great War?”
Nesta scanned her memory. “No. I haven’t come across that one.”
Gwyn frowned. “It’s not on its shelf.”
“So someone else has it.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She released a dramatic breath.
“Why?”
Gwyn’s voice quieted into a conspiratorial whisper. “I work for someone who is very … demanding.”
Memory tugged at Nesta. Someone named Merrill, Clotho had told her the other day. Her right hand. “I take it you’re not fond of the person?”
Gwyn leaned against one of the shelves, crossing her arms with a casualness that belied her priestess’s robes. Again, she wore no hood and no blue stone atop her head. “Honestly, while I consider many of the females here to be my sisters, there are a few who are not what I would consider nice.”
Nesta snorted.
Gwyn again peered down the row. “You know why we’re all here.” Shadows swarmed her eyes—the first Nesta had seen there. “We all have endured …” She rubbed her temple. “So I hate, I hate to even speak ill of any one of my sisters here. But Merrill is unpleasant. To everyone. Even Clotho.”
“Because of her experiences?”
“I don’t know,” Gwyn said. “All I know is that I was assigned to work with Merrill and aid in her research, and I might have made a teensy mistake.” She grimaced.
“What manner of mistake?”
Gwyn blew out a sigh toward the darkened ceiling. “I was supposed to deliver volume seven of The Great War to Merrill yesterday, along with a stack of other books, and I could have sworn I did, but this morning, while I was in her office, I looked at the stack and saw I’d given her volume eight instead.”
Nesta reined in her eye rolling. “And this is a bad thing?”
“She’ll kill me when it’s not there for her to read today.” Gwyn hopped from foot to foot. “Which could be any moment. I got away the instant I could, but the book isn’t on the shelf.” She halted her fidgeting. “Even if I found the book, she’d spot me swapping it into the pile.”
“And you can’t tell her?” Gwyn couldn’t be serious about the killing thing. Though with the faeries, Nesta supposed it might be a possibility. Despite this place being one of peace.
“Gods, no. Merrill doesn’t accept mistakes. The book is supposed to be there, I told her it was there, and … I messed up.” The priestess’s face paled. She looked almost ill.
“Why does it matter?”
Emotion stirred in those remarkable eyes. “Because I don’t like to fail. I can’t …” Gwyn shook her head. “I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”