Especially since a few minutes later, he was following me into the massive echoing archive.
It carried the same hushed, cool, reverent sensation of being in a converted temple.
I tried to lead him to the dragon compendiums, but I was navigationally challenged, so we wandered a bit.
I rose to my tiptoes. The entire library was full of reminders I was miniature compared to the Fae.
“Come on,” Kiegan said, his hands around my waist. He lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, setting me on one of his broad shoulders. Hewas so big that it felt as if his shoulder were a perfectly adequate bench. “Can you see now?”
“A little notice next time, Kiegan.” I felt a glow of warmth at the easy, platonic way he’d manhandled me. His friendship felt comforting.
“Just thought you’d enjoy having a normal perspective. It must feel strange not to be looking up.”
I looked around before pointing across the library. “I see the dragons’ reference section!”
He was fixed on something to our left, but then he jerked his gaze in the direction I pointed. “We’re not going over there.”
“What are you doing?” My voice came out slightly shrill since he was walking in the opposite direction without putting me down. He took enormous strides that made me feel as if I’d slide off, though he still gripped my waist. I put my hand on his hair, feeling the coarse, dark curls against my palm. “I’m going to use your hair like reins if you don’t set me down.”
“You can grab it if you’re scared. You won’t hurt me.”
“That wasn’t what I was saying—reins are for control, not balance—and oh.” I let my fingers sink into his hair, holding myself steadier.
He pushed at a locked door. The lock strained, then burst—or maybe it was the door that gave way—and then we were going downstairs. I ducked forward slightly involuntarily, afraid I’d hit my head on the stone ceiling. The air was dank.
“You’re going to get us kicked out of the library!”
“I don’t trust it,” he told me.
“Thelibrary?”
“The books chosen by the royal librarians.”
I could concede that point. “So what did you see down here?”
He turned a corner, and we were facing an enormous room filled with haphazard stacks of books. He let them slide down his shoulder carefully, setting me down on the ground.
“A mess.” He frowned at the stacks.
“I guess we’ll just be glad the books haven’t been burned.” I cast an anxious look over my shoulder. “I hope we don’t get caught. I love the archives.”
“You do? Well, the busted door may alert someone.”
“That was my concern,” I murmured, but I let it go for now and began to hunt through the stacks. The organizational system left a lot to be desired.
“We’re just borrowing. That’s what libraries are for, right?” He put a hand on top of a stack to steady himself as he leaned over to read the titles, but books cascaded across the floor as the stack tumbled. “Oh.”
“Who’s down there?” The voice was distant and cross, coming from high up the stairs.
“Hide,” he whispered. Or at least, he tried; it was a Kiegan-whisper, louder than a lot of mortal speaking voices.
I stared at him for a second, debating, and he turned his back to me, his face the picture of innocence in the split second I caught in profile. His back blocked me completely from the view of anyone on the stairs. I only had a moment to decide.
In an impulsive moment, I whispered a curse word and dove behind some of the stacks.
“What’s going on here?” The librarian’s voice was exasperated.
“I was looking for a book,” he said.
