I throw myself backward onto the bed, the warmth of the blankets enveloping me. “And we get to sleep in the clouds.”
“No dozing. We need to be up and ready to make the most of the diurnal. While I am still in favor with the prince, it is important that we get what we need to survive our new lives.”
“Ugh, fine. But for the record, if I get us sacrificed to the Idols through my clumsiness, I claim sister rights.”
“If we are being sacrificed, what use would sister rights be?” she asks.
“I observe the right to go first. Watching you die would be too traumatic.”
The mirror lady appears and looks at Gwyneth then me. “Maidens, you must dress at once. The guards are on their way to escort you to your new destiny.”
“What about our morning meal?” I wonder. “Do they expect us to lift books on an empty stomach?” Because that would be mean. Nobody likes to work on an empty stomach, even if it was tasteless oats and goat's milk—it eased the ache in your gut.
“There’s sustenance available in the library,” the mirror woman says. “Now, make haste.” Food while we work? Clever Hallowed, they play a dirty game.
“I warned you to stay away from my maidens,” the mirror man snaps. I’ve never heard him say an angry word to anyone. He is usually so courteous and mild-mannered.
The mirror woman huffs before disappearing. The mirror man puffs out his chest. “That’s what I thought,” he utters.
We slide into our long skirts and matching blouses that were stored in the cabinet just before the sharp sound of knuckles rapping against our door rings through the room. I open it and come face to face with two guards coated in shiny armor, their helmets obscuring everything but their gray eyes.
“Are we expecting a duel?” I ask. Or perhaps news of my clumsiness has spread around the Hallows and they were donning their armor in readiness for the chaos that stalks my every tempo.
The guard on the left steps back and jerks his head. “Maidens Gwyneth and Daphne, please follow us to the library.”
Gwyneth appears behind me and pushes me into the hallway. Looks like we are doing this then. No going back now. We head down to the ground floor and take a hallway to the right of the main atrium. The guards pause outside some double doors painted in cream and etched with gold patterns. They open both doors. Did they practice that precise timing? How boring a job that would be.
The sun's rays cascade into the room, creating a luminous golden glow that illuminates the black walls and bookcases, making them glimmer. The room soars three stories high, with staircases winding around each level. The whole setup looks like a Daphne disaster zone. In the center of the ground floor, a gray-haired man sits at a circular desk, his glasses clinging to the end of his nose, the lenses glinting in the light. He glances up as we walk towards him.
“Good dawn,” he says. “I am the key librarian. You must be the new maidens.”
“I’m Gwyneth,” my sister states. “And this is my sister, Daphne.”
He pushes an enormous set of books toward us, the bindings creaking in protest as he strains against them. “Are you familiar with the numeral filing system?”
“Of course,” Gwyneth says.
I frown. Are we? I plaster a smile on my face and aim for confidence. My stomach rumbles, and it echoes in the room, making my cheeks flush. I glance around like I’m looking for the culprit who is hiding a gremlin in their stomach.
“There are only three of us in here, Daphne, and we all know it was you,” Gwyneth mutters.
“There is always food by the west wall,” the key librarian tells us, pointing to the left. “I’ll give you twenty tempos to fuel up for a morning of filing and dusting.”
“Thank you,” Gwyneth says, linking my arm and pulling me towards the food. “We shall be back before you know it.”
We stroll down the shelves, the musty smell of books and antiques filling the room. I am as certain as the sun will rise that I will get lost in such a vast room. A table stretching the length of the wall comes into view, piled high with food and drink. My mouth waters at the sight of sausage links which have the golden brown hue only real meat can obtain. Rat meat is usually charred. But this is bunkum or perhaps capon. I grab a plate and pile it high with a little of something from every platter. May as well live it up while I can. Who knows when Charming will decide to toss us to the Burgher quarters and remove our cushy library assignment?
I flop down onto the huge armchair, my legs tucked up and the smell of leather in the air. The first bite of sausage causes an indecent moan to escape me and Gwyneth chuckles as she tucks into her own breakfast.
“That is the best damn sausage I have ever put in my mouth,” I say.
“Agreed,” Gwyneth answers. I savor every bite, and when it's all gone, I feel a twinge of sadness in my full stomach. I can't fit in a single sausage more. There’s always mid meal—perhaps they serve sausages the whole of the diurnal? Could a girl ever have too many sausages? The answer is no.
“These books will not file themselves,” Gwyneth says. “We must make a good impression on the key librarian, so he asks us to stay.”
I stand and stretch my arms above my head. “Let’s do this.” The plate that I’m positive was securely on my chair, falls to the floor with a thud. But it doesn’t break, so that’s a sign we are in the right place.
Gwyneth picks up my plate and puts it on the end of the table alongside her own. “Maybe you should stick to the ground floor,” she says.
