The lanterns flickered as we entered, pools of light stretching across rows upon rows of towering bookshelves that seemed to go on forever. The stillness wrapped around me like a velvet shawl, heavy with whispers of the past.
My grandma walked quietly beside me, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze tracing the spines of books she probably hadn’t seen in decades.
I waited, expecting her to say something.
And she did.
Eventually.
“I admit,” she said softly, “I did not expect Twobble.”
I kept walking, letting the hum of the library muffle my irritation. “What did you expect, Grandma? A parade of polished heirs? Someone with the right lineage?” My brows lifted. “I always got the feeling you weren’t about all that, especially after…my dad.”
Her sigh was delicate but audible. “It’s not about lineage, Maeve. It’s about tradition. The Academy has always had… standards.”
“Maybe those standards are part of the problem. Didn’t Dad’s shifter clan have standards, too? Look where that got him.”
She stopped. So did I.
Her expression was unreadable in the dim light, her silver hair catching the glow like moonlight. “You’re angry.”
“I am,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Because I saw your face. You weren’t happy he was the first student.”
“It surprised me,” she corrected gently. “And perhaps I… struggle to see what you see in him.”
I bristled, heat flaring in my chest. “He’s loyal. Braver than most people. He never once gave up on this place, Grandma. Not even when you thought about it.”
Her face flickered at that, the pain surfacing just long enough for me to see it before she masked it again.
“I never gave up,” she said quietly. “I was trapped, Maeve.”
“Then maybe you’ve been stuck in old ways of thinking for too long, too,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended.
We stood there, facing each other in the long shadow of the towering shelves, the air between us thick and tense.
Grandma Elira’s eyes softened, though, and after a long pause, she gave me the barest hint of a nod. “Perhaps I have.”
I exhaled as the anger bled out just enough for guilt to sneak in.
I didn’t like fighting with her.
But I wouldn’t back down either. Not on this.
“He’s going to be great,” I said, quieter now.
She smiled faintly. “For your sake, I hope so. You know, the first student is meant to be your confidant.”
“I recognize that and couldn’t imagine a better fit.” I looked at my grandma, wishing she’d understand.
“Then that is all that matters.”
The fluttering came then, soft and insistent.
Book sprites.
A swarm of them.
The tiny creatures' personalities ranged from fussy to downright prickly. They zipped around my head, tugged at my sleeves, and chirped at me in their scratchy little voices.
