But being in the Abbersett High School library—surrounded in warmth, the scent of aged pages—Riya could almost forget the panic scouring her rib cage.
Almost.
She snappedMythologies of the Fae and Other Creatures. Useless. Just like everything else she’d found so far.Whispers of the Peri: Chronicles of the Enchantedwasn’t promising, either. The only other “records” on peris she could find were fevered speculation written by old white British men who treated peris like mere myths. Peris were almosttoo goodat blending in, it seemed.
Riya skimmed through the pages describing rituals, each more absurd than the last. One method for undoing curses even recommending having “the Accursed bite on a sprig of fresh rosemary while dancing naked beneath a gibbous moon.” But as desperate as she was to end the curse, the thought of Kian dancing naked in the moonlight made her want to stab her eyes out.
Her last hope had been an anonymous message boardspace meant for those with peri blood. She hadn’t expected much, but the only response she got was a scolding:I wouldneverdo something so irresponsible.What is wrong with you? Are you an IDIOT? This is the kind of BS that draws unwanted attention to our kind! You should be ashamed of yourself!
Riya had slammed her laptop shut.
The frustration inside her whistled and shrieked, like a kettle left too long on the stove.
“I’m going to close up for the night,” Ms. Calloway’s voice called from the stacks.
Ms. Calloway was the head librarian, and one of the first people Riya introduced herself to when she came to Abbersett four years ago, when Riya was just a gangly freshman. Sometimes she looked at Riya like she could see right through her—perhaps she was simply the kind of person who noticed things others didn’t. Perhaps it was a librarian thing.
Riya stood and gathered her laptop, her copy ofWhispers of the Peri. “All right. I think I’m done for today, anyway. Thanks for all the recommendations, Ms. Calloway.”
Ms. Calloway gave Riya a sympathetic smile. “It’s hard, researching something so elusive.”
“I’ll manage eventually.” She had to.
Riya stumbled outside into the evening twilight and took a deep breath. The air was beginning to take on that familiar autumnal crispness, the subtle sweetness of decaying leaves.
She pulled her jacket tighter against the chill, the restless edge gnawing at her.
Then she noticed a familiar figure sitting on the stone ledge by the recently massacred flower bed.
Kian. He was hunched slightly, his worn green notebook balanced on his knee, pen tapping against the edge. His silver ear piercings glinted beneath the floodlights.
She frowned. She hadn’t even told him she’d be here.
“There you are!” Kian snapped his notebook shut and pushed off the wall so fast she thought he might face-plant. He nearly did.
Riya tightened her grip on her backpack straps. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting,” he said, breathless.
He stepped closer. Too close. She could feel his presence like a palpable heat against her skin. “I wanted to come in, but I remembered you said you didn’t need my help, so...” He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating just long enough to make her think he might stop there. But then, with an almost feverish eagerness, he added, “Do you need anything else? A shoulder massage? A heating pad? Can I carry your backpack?”
Riya’s body locked up from the sheerintensityof him.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Can you really afford to waste your time like this? Don’t you have... things to do? Friends?”
Kian shrugged, smile flickering. “Not really.”
Riya adjusted her glasses, suddenly feeling insensitive for asking.
“So how was the library?” Kian shoved his hands in his pockets. “Find anything helpful?”
“No,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”
Kian’s forehead creased in a look of concern. “You don’t have to do all this alone.”
“Unless you’re some secret peri historian,” replied Riya, “you’re not really in a position to help.”
“Well, I can still drive you home. If you’d like.”
