Page 363 of The Academy of Blood & Shadow

"I wasn't asking permission."

"You aren't going."

"I wasn't inviting you."

"You still aren't going."

Cassian looks toward me. "He's becoming unbearable."

"Becoming?"

Caelen points at me without turning. "You too."

I smile. The Place is open. Not fully. The sign in the window reads: NORMAL HOURS RESUME MONDAY. Someone has written underneath: FINALLY. Cassian stops. Looks at it. Then toward us.

"See? The people have spoken."

Nyra keeps walking. "The people are stupid." A woman passing us looks offended. Nyra doesn't notice. I bite the inside of my cheek.

Four days. That's all it took. Four days without another disappearance. Four days without bells. Four days without grey grass or depleted wards or another name appearing on a board. And already people are beginning to breathe. Maybe they need to. Maybe that's what humans and vampires and fae and wolves and sirens and every other living thing do when fear becomes impossible to sustain. Eventually, the body decides it would rather risk hope than remain afraid forever. I understand that. I just don't trust it.

The old library stands at the eastern end of the square. I've passed it before. Dozens of times. I've never really looked. Today, I do. Three stories. Grey stone darkened by age. Narrow windows. Ivy climbing one side despite the season. A wooden sign hangs above the entrance. No Academy crest. No Council seal. Just a book carved into weathered wood. Beneath it: VARETHIAN CIVIC LIBRARY Nyra stops at the bottom of the steps. Her entire face changes. Not dramatically. But I know her well enough now. She's excited. Cassian sees it too. "Oh, gods."

She looks at him. "What?"

"You look happy."

"I am."

"Terrifying."

Caelen opens the door. A bell rings overhead. One. Small. Ordinary. Every muscle in my body reacts anyway. Rhyven's head turns sharply. So does Caelen's. Cassian freezes. Nyra looks between us. Then up at the tiny brass bell. Silence. Cassian exhales. "Well." He presses a hand against his chest. "That's healthy." No one laughs. Not immediately. Then I do. Quietly. Cassian follows. Even Caelen smiles. Rhyven doesn't. But his shoulders lower again.

The library smells like dust, wood and time. Not the Academy. The Academy library smells polished. Maintained. Organized. Magic keeps the air dry and the books preserved. This place smells alive. Uneven wooden floors. Stone walls. Shelves that don't match. Some reach the ceiling. Others stop halfway. Books are stacked horizontally wherever vertical space apparently ran out. Handwritten labels hang from brass frames. History. Agriculture. Genealogy. Local Records. Maps. Trade. Correspondence. There are chairs that look older than my father. Pressed flowers sit inside a glass frame near the stairs. A clock ticks somewhere I can't see. No magic hums beneath the floor. No ward recognizes my blood. No door seals behind us. I like it immediately.

"Can I help you?" The voice comes from somewhere behind a mountain of books. Then a woman appears. Small. Silver hair twisted into a knot. Dark green dress. Round spectacles. She looks approximately one hundred and capable of killing all five of us with a bookmark. Her gaze moves over our uniforms. Weapons. Council authorization. Rhyven. Caelen. Back to the weapons. "No."

Caelen blinks. "We haven't asked anything."