I devour the first book.
A pair of childhood friends swept across the sea on a whirlwind adventure who not only discover that the legends of old are real… but that they have loved each other all along. I inhale it in a single sitting, then reach greedily for the next.
A prince bewitched by a mermaid, giving up everything—his crown, his breath, his world—to join her beneath the waves.
Then another: a kingdom fractured, a magical horse born once every thousand years, and two rivals who discover unity and love through the battle to ride it.
Each story more wonderful than the last. Each one unlike anything I’ve ever been able to read back home. I want more. I wantallof them. I want to stay here forever.
But “forever” lasts only a few hours.
The fire’s warmth spreads through me, loosening the knots in my shoulders. My coat is soft beneath me, the chair plush and enveloping, the room impossibly cozy despite the frost gathering on the dome overhead. Even the sprites have curled up on the armrests, fast asleep, their tiny snores vibrating like a pair of contented cats.
I try…truly try…to keep my eyes open. To fight the heaviness tugging at my eyelids. I tell myself I cannot stay here, not really, not without risking everything.
But the heat is soothing, the quiet absolute, and the book in my hands grows heavier by the second.
My grip loosens. The book slips against my chest.
My head tips to the side as the firelight blurs, stretching into ribbons of gold.
And before I can stop it, I’m asleep.
In my dreams, I hear muffled voices.
Shapeless at first. Indistinguishable echoes drifting in and out, rising and falling in strange pitches. But slowly they begin to sharpen. The tones separate. One is deep, booming, unmistakably male. The other softer, higher, but equally furious.
The haze of sleep thins, and the sounds become words.
“Stay calm, Luceran,” the female voice says sternly. “She did not know.”
“She wastold,” he thunders, voice like grinding stone. “But she did not listen! She never listens! What use is a servant who refuses to obey?”
Then a low sound, half-groan, half-snarl, rips from him, followed by a hiss of breath between clenched teeth, as if he’s fighting some hidden pain.
“Luceran, please.” Her voice tightens. “You’ll make yourself unwell if you do not calm down.”
My eyes flutter open.
The last threads of sleep fall away, and I find myself still curled in the library chair, the book splayed open across my chest. The fire has burned down to faint orange embers. The sprites who’d shared the chair are gone.
But Luceran and Atilia are there, only a few paces away, their gazes fixed on me.
I don’t know why thefirstthing I notice is Atilia’s hand pressed to his chest, as if that tiny body could restrain a male like him. As if her touch alone could tame him. But the sight punches something sharp and unwelcome through my ribs.
I jolt upright in the chair, fumbling to push my arms through my coat sleeves.
“My lord,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. I…I got lost. I didn’t…”
“Enough!” he roars.
The word crashes through the library like a violent wave. Shelves tremble. Dust rains down. Several books topple from their resting places and hit the floor with heavy thuds.
“I am tired of your excuses,” he snarls. “Tired of your lies. You are more trouble than your father’s debt is worth, Neve Devlin. More trouble than I care to endure a moment longer.”
Atilia’s hand remains on his chest, but he brushes her off as if she’s made of air.
Then he storms toward me.
