Page 60 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

Moerrven made a little sound, and I spun, finding him standing there, Clover’s tack already slung over the wagon’s rail.

Kethilda looked from me, to Moerrven, and back. “I’ll let you two decide,” she said, drifting toward the library, not quite going inside, talking to herself about soulmates.

“We’ll go to the library later,” Moerrven said.

“It’s cute how you think you’re in charge.” I narrowed my eyes at him, then tugged him down and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Especially when she’s giving us a cottage with walls so thick that no one will hear the wicked things I do to you.”

His cheeks flushed a pretty blue. “I need to tend to Clover. She has worked hard to get us here.”

“Okay,” I said. “You do the animals, because you love them and you’re good at it, and I go look at three centuries of portal knowledge with Kethilda, because if I have to stand here and watch you re-park a cart one more time, I am going to start screaming, and not in the fun way.”

He looked at me. The corner of his mouth shifted upward.

“Go,” he said. “Don’t touch anything she tells you not to touch.”

I gasped, shocked. “I would never.”

He raised one disbelieving brow, so adorable I had to jump up into his arms and plant a kiss on his lips. Behind us, Kethilda was audibly swooning. He firmly set me down, then headed off to deal with the horse and wagon, and Kethilda waved me toward the library.

“Come, let’s find those books you’re looking for!”

The library was one large room, stuffed to the gills with books. There were shelves all of the way up to the rafters, ladders that slid on rails, a table buried under open books, and a smell I would have bottled if I could: old paper and candle smoke.

I may have sprinted toward one of the ladders and done a Beauty and the Beast ladder slide, singing a little bit of the song. But seriously, who could blame me? When I finished, Kethilda was staring at me, head tilted.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. That’s a classic book-lovers situation you have going on right there,” I said, pointing to the ladder. “At least where I’m from.”

Her face broke out into a huge grin. “About where you’re from. Runhilda’s missive said you came through a passage from another world,” she said. “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I accidentally discovered a magical mirror. Or my friend Pip did, really, and then I fell through while searching for him.”

Kethilda sat down, not gracefully. She found a chair with the backs of her knees and lowered into it like the news had stunned her.

“You crossed between worlds. I have waited nearly two centuries to meet someone who has crossed, and you just walked right into my library!”

“Your cousin said this was an area of interest for you?” I asked, taking a seat across from her.

“Oh yes! Can I ask how it happened? Wait, let me get paper. I should write this down word for word. You are a primary source. A good librarian would document your account for the records.”

“Of course,” I said as she shoved a stack of books out of the way and laid out a paper and a quill. “So, you’ve heard about this happening, but I’m the first you’ve met?”

“Oh yes. Up until now I’ve collected rumors and second-hand records from Liminia. I only have one account that could point to portal travel in Qoksmere, and that was far on the east coast, along the water.”

Her quill paused, and she pointed it at my feet. “Are those the shoes of your world?”

“Sneakers. Well, Vans.” I lifted one so she could get the full effect of the blue. “Everyone has them where I’m from.”

She wrote that down, too.

“Where is Liminia?”

“It’s another country, a few days’ sail across the eastern sea. Did this mirror of yours appear magical in any way?”

“I mean, it was huge and gaudy. Someone had covered the frame with rhinestones and pink metallic paint, which, okay, iconic, but I’m not sure that was the original look. I think it was original to the building? Secured to the wall.”

“And where did you land?”

I tried to give her my arrival location for her notes, but between my catastrophic sense of direction and the fact that I’d spent my first day in this world as the highwaymen’s hostage, the best I could offer was “a field, near a farm.”