Page 93 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Cornelius rattled his twigs. “Lady Thorn, then. I suppose Himself can accompany you, if he keeps winter out of my library.”

“Thank you, Mr. Yarrow.” Pippa handed him the book, which he cradled as gently as if it were a baby bird fallen from a nest. “Miss Cavendish will do fine.”

“It bloody won’t,” Lachlan muttered. There was snow around his head. An owl screeched.

“Stop that,” Pippa scolded him.

The cottage was fair bursting with plants and saplings with bright green leaves. They hung from the ceiling in wicker baskets and rope hammocks; they nestled in chipped teacups and ale jugs. Every other available surface was stacked with books. Pippa knew exactly how to deal with an elderly and slightly cantankerous book lover. Thank you, Mr. Brackenberry. “We’ve come about a medieval collection. The Red Grimoire?”

“I’m not that old, surely.” He paused. “Am I?”

“I’m afraid I do not know, but I do know you borrowed the collection in March of 1491.”

“Did I?”

“I do understand,” Pippa said sympathetically. “It can be quite difficult to recall all the books one has read after so many years.”

Cornelius blinked at her. A worm wriggled out of the dirt in a nearby pot to join him in his affronted blinking. The sound of dried leaves and seed pods and clacking branches grew nearly deafening. “Young lady,” Cornelius finally said, offended right down to the acorns that served as his toes, “I will have you know that I can remember every word I have ever read.”

“That is remarkable. I wish I had that gift.”

“Hmph. What book again?”

“The Red Grimoire.”

He frowned. Pippa held her breath. She crossed her fingers for good measure. She had not thought to bring any four-leaf clovers or silver pennies for luck. “Ah yes, I was feeling nostalgic and the elder sapling had ennui. I thought the old songs might cheer him. And I remembered my granny talked about one of the tree spells.”

“I had no idea trees could get ennui.”

“Only on this side of a fairy ring,” he said, snorting. “You humans know nothing about trees. Deaf and dumb, the lot of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s all right.” Cornelius smiled, patting her hand. “Don’t know what you don’t know. My, you are warm, aren’t you?”

Pippa inched away.

“I’ve got the coal fire stoked too high, I reckon.”

She smiled weakly.

“Now, where were we?”

“The Red Grimoire.”

“Ah yes. A few old spells and such. Can’t think why it’s of any interest to a young woman such as yourself.”

“I am a Librarian,” Pippa reminded him, as though that were explanation enough.

And it was.

“Fair enough, fair enough. Tricky book, that one. Likes to hide, and I’m too busy to chase my books.”

“Of course. Do you remember any of those spells? It would be very helpful to my…research.”

“Suppose I do,” he said. He closed his eyes for such a long moment that Pippa was afraid he had fallen asleep. Lachlan shot her a wry glance. She pressed her finger to her lips in a scolding gesture as natural to her, as a Librarian, as breathing. His eyes flared in a way that suggested he was not insulted. Not at all.

Flustered, she turned back to Cornelius.