Luke’s sharp eyes linger over every single one, his gaze pulling my attention to them. A tiny smile curls the left side of his mouth.
“What are these?” I brush the tip of my finger over an unfurling leaf.
“Toys?” Princess Buttercup leaps to her feet, her voice full of hope as she bats at the closest one. “Toys for me?”
“No,” Luke and I say in unison.
Her tail jerks back and forth, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I wag a finger, knowing the movement means she’s about to do what she wants, damn the consequences. “You don’t get to pretend like you don’t understand me anymore. And Luke’s going to tell us exactly why you can’t hurt the plants.”
“Wasn’t going to hurt them.” She plonks her butt on the ground, sounding sulky.
“These are a sign that the library is finally recovering,” Luke says. “Its magic is now restored enough for it to come to life.”
“As in literally?”
He nods. “Fae libraries are living things, sharing our connection to nature and the realms we live in.”
I snap my fingers and point at him. “Like the wisteria in the reading room.”
“Exactly.” He looks at my familiar. “These aren’t merely plants—they’re an extension of the library. So if you need something to play with…” He twitches the end of his tail, sliding it back and forth so it scrapes across the floor with a faint scratching noise.
Princess Buttercup’s ears swivel forward, her pupils dilating to huge pools of black. Her hips lift, and she shifts from one back foot to the other several times. With a pounce, she leaps for his tail, which he slides out of the way at the last second.
He takes off running down the aisle, his tail dragging along the floor, weaving back and forth like a snake.
She gives chase.
I grin after them, then turn back to the bookshelf, myfingertips tracing over the spines as I look for a book title that seems promising. Alone in the stacks for the first time, a faint awareness fills me. I close my eyes and reach for my magic. It sparks to life, filling my chest before extending outward. Tiny impressions form in my mind’s eye, taking the shapes of books. Each is a different “color,” some widely opposite one another, like red versus blue. Others are faint variations of difference, like a set all in bright green, with only the tiniest changes in the amount of yellow visible from left to right.
Princess Buttercup gives a triumphant meow from somewhere close, and my eyes fly open, all sense of my magic disappearing with the abruptness of a finger snap.
Luke walks back into view, my cat now cradled on his arm, her little legs hanging down on each side like he’s a tree branch she’s draped along.
My cat gives me the slow blink of a kitty smile. “Good play.” Then she yawns, her little pink tongue curling.
“You’re worn out so soon?” I laugh and scratch around her ears.
“We were gone a good half hour,” Luke rumbles as he leans over to lay Princess Buttercup on one of the many cat beds that now dot the aisles.
She immediately curls into a ball, bushy tail covering her eyes like a sleep mask like the little diva she is, and goes to sleep.
“What?” A jolt of shock goes through me. “It felt like… I don’t know, five minutes tops.”
His gaze sharpens. “What were you doing?”
“I tried to use my magic. And I did! But in a new way.” Idescribe the feeling of “seeing” the books. “Only the colors I saw don’t match their covers or anything like that.” I tap one of them. “Like this one. It’s bound in brown leather, but in my mind’s eye, it was red.”
“Then the colors you’re seeing have some other meaning. Use your magic again and tell me what you see.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes and try to reach for my magic. Luke holds so perfectly still that I can’t hear even the tiniest rustle of his wings, but I can feel him beside me, my body tingling with an awareness that makes it impossible to concentrate.
Fudge me. I’m a grown-ass woman. Standing beside a man shouldnotshort-circuit my brain!
Letting out a frustrated breath, I square my shoulders and try again.
My magic fizzes to life slowly, like a small spark of potential. The more I focus on it, the more powerful it becomes, until my chest feels swirly and light, filled with movement and potential.
