Ink & Incantation

By E.V. Everest, Nicole Zoltack, C.L. Cannon and 13 more

Have you ever wished you could fall into the magical libraries of Harry Potter, Beauty and the Beast, or Sorcery of Thorns?

 

We have, too! Join us inside the enchanting pages of Ink & Incantation, a young adult anthology featuring sixteen sci-fi and fantasy short stories. All celebrating the magic of books and libraries!

 

Inside these enchanting pages you will find stories of love, adventure, and extraordinary magic. Starcrossed lovers meet in the world's last remaining print library. A girl is claimed by a sword. Thieves race to find a powerful book. Best friends seek an audience with the dead. Twin witches learn one must die.

Can they escape their fates? It won't be easy with dragons, pirates, and the underworld itself standing in their way. But with a book in their hands, anything is possible…

 

Authors Featured in Ink & Incantation

E. V. Everest, Allison Rose, Ben Green, C.L. Cannon, Jamie Dalton, Jessa Lucas, Joy Lewis, K. R. S. McEntire, Kristen S. Walker, Maria Vermisoglou, Nicole Zoltack, R. L. Medina, R.L. Perez, S. R. Breaker, Sudha Kuruganti, Tricia Copeland

• Language: English
• Publisher: Golden Bird Press
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781957498089

E.V. Everest

E.V. Everest is a tween to teen fantasy author. Ever since she discovered the summer reading program, she’s been unstoppable. After all, if books contain worlds, she’s pretty much an intergalactic traveler, right? When she’s not visiting other worlds or inventing her own, Evelina enjoys drinking too much coffee, playing her trombone, and petting her four fur babies. Sign up for E.V.’s newsletter and get writing prompts and inspiration straight to your inbox! Visit www.evelinaeverest.com.

Book preview

Golden Bird Press

Ink & Incantation

An Enchanting YA Anthology Featuring Books & Libraries

First published by Golden Bird Press 2022

Copyright © 2022 by Golden Bird Press

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

First edition

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Contents

I. RUTHLESS HEARTS

Ruthless Hearts

II. BECOMING BANNERET

Becoming Banneret

III. A TOMB OF ROSES

A Tomb of Roses

IV. CURSE YOURSELF

Curse Yourself

V. BOOKS & SECRETS

Books & Secrets

VI. THE SENTINEL OF BRAIDWARD LIBRARY

The Sentinel of Braidward Library

VII. A CURSE OF SILVER

A Curse of Silver

VIII. RIWENNE & THE HAUNTED BOOKSTORE

Riwenne & the Haunted Bookstore

IX. WAR OF TIDES & TOMBS

War of Tides & Tombs

X. THE STORY WEAVERS

The Story Weavers

XI. THE BARREN TROVE

The Barren Trove

XII. THE SECRETS OF OSSADIYAH

The Secrets of Ossadiyah

XIII. LOST IN SHADOW

Lost in Shadow

XIV. BOOKWYRM

Bookwyrm

XV. ALAN’S AWAKENING

Alan’s Awakening

XVI. OMENS FOR WAYWARD WITCHES

Omens for Wayward Witches

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I

Ruthless Hearts

E.V. Everest

Ruthless Hearts

Enora had never been more bored in her life.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She had been precisely this bored every Saturday since her eleventh birthday—the age when her mother had begun to demand her attendance at society events.

Today, they were attending a private luncheon at the estate of Lady Sylvia Rockwell. The three of them sat around an elegantly dressed table with a full tea service.

Enora’s mother beamed across the table at the other woman. Her hair was coiffed, not a strand out of place. Enora has the highest grades in her class. She’s doing especially well in finance and literature, she bragged.

Enora fought the urge to roll her eyes. Such kind words were rare when she and her mother were alone. No, that time was reserved for lectures on Enora’s duty to her family and society at large. Often, the lectures were followed by list-making and goal setting to ensure Enora would excel above her peers.

It didn’t matter how high her grades were or how many leaderships positions she earned. Nothing she did was ever good enough.

Lady Rockwell returned a smile. Oh, how lovely. My Peter also enjoys reading though I must admit it’s often military strategy. I suppose he takes after his father. She laughed into her lace-gloved hand.

An excellent role model, Enora’s mother bolstered.

It was painfully clear why they were all here. Lady Rockwell’s son, Peter, was twenty-years-old. Enora would be eighteen in two months. This was political matchmaking. She wondered when the military strategy reading Peter would arrive. Perhaps not until a second meeting but one could never be sure.

It had been two dreadfully dull hours of vapid conversation, and she’d do almost anything for a respite. Peter be damned. She sighed over her teacup.

Her mother shot her a glance that said quite clearly, No sighing at the table. Sit up straight and be pleasant, young lady!

So, she slouched further in her chair and gave a dramatic sigh.

This time, her movements attracted Lady Rockwell’s attention too. Enora, my dear. Are you feeling well?

Enora almost smirked, but she held back. Instead, in a stroke of brilliance, she pulled her face into a pained expression. I have a terrible headache, and I fear I may be coming down with something.

Oh, my dear, you must go and rest then.

While the woman was addressing Enora, her mother was shooting her a look that could kill.

Enora ignored it. You’re quite right, Lady Rockwell. I should adjourn, but please give my best to Potter.

The woman’s smile faltered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly. "When you’re feeling better, I look forward to introducing you to Peter."

It was a subtle correction, but neither Enora nor her mother missed it. Of course, Enora already knew his name. She had an exceptional memory. What she didn’t have was any interest in this arranged marriage or any other.

She stood and dipped a small curtsy.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. There would be words later.

But for now, she was free.

* * *

As she exited the estate, Enora held a demure hand to her temple and made sure to look faint.

She must have overdone it because the doorman insisted on calling a hovercar. It arrived in minutes— small, dark, and sleek. The vehicle levitated just overhead and then lowered to ground level, so she could board. She thanked the doorman in a sickly voice for his kindness.

Inside, with the vehicle doors secured, Enora allowed herself to slump down in her seat. She groaned. What now? She couldn’t go anywhere fun. Her coordinates would be recorded. The only place she could go was home, and that was the last place she wanted to go.

So, she programmed in her family’s residence in the capitol city. Their home in the Northern Province was much closer, but she had already decided to give herself the afternoon off. After all, she’d earned it.

She exited the hovercar just outside of the family skyscraper, only blocks from the bustling financial district. She lingered outside the opulent doors until the hovercar was a distant memory.

Then, she started walking. It looked like rain. Maybe, she could go shopping or try to call a few friends. She couldn’t be the only one in the city this weekend.

She hadn’t decided on a destination yet when a familiar hovercar turn the corner. It was her mother. She swore under her breath. The Seven royal families might claim they rejected all cyber mods but sometimes she swore her mom had chipped her.

She turned onto the next street and broke into a run. After that, she made another turn. Then, hoping she had thrown her off, she turned into the first building that appeared to have a public entrance. She had no idea what it was, and she didn’t care.

Inside, she leaned against the door and clutched her side, trying to catch her breath.

Gold letters twinkled in the air before her. Welcome to the Archives, Enora Jacobs, they read.

A tall, thin man in a rich blue uniform approached her. Welcome to the Bellatonian Archives, he echoed. The largest and only remaining print library on the planet. He looked up at the words still twinkling in gold. Wait a minute. You’re a Jacobs. This is the Sixth Entrance, not the Fifth. Your entrance is four blocks south of here.

Couldn’t you make an exception? she wheedled. My mom doesn’t like me walking in the city alone, and— she added glancing out the window— look, it just started raining.

He twirled the end of his mustache thoughtfully. Fine. Just this once. But next time, make sure your driver drops you at the correct entrance.

She beamed at him. Of course.

Now, if you’ll just join me at the security booth.

She followed, taking in the room.

Your full name, he prompted.

Enora Lyn Jacobs.

And your date of birth.

10/29/1918.

And Ms. Jacobs, are you carrying any ink-based products—pens, quills, markers, etc. on your person.

Enora shook her head. How silly. Who would carry around such archaic tripe?

And do you have any modifications?

She recoiled. Of course not. What did he think she was? Some dirty cyber?

My apologies, miss. We’re required to ask all patrons.

She nodded crisply, still not quite forgiving his gauche question.

And do you have any digital devices on you? Holovision, streamers, virtual glasses, smartwatches, infotabs, or any similar items?

She snorted. Who doesn’t?

If you’ll please follow me, I’ll take you to our visitor storage. You may safely stow your items there and collect them upon your departure.

He showed her to a set of lockers with DNA-based mechanisms.

I’m not sure about this, she muttered. When was the last time she had been without a digital device?

I assure you your items will be safe upon your return. We haven’t had an incident in decades.

Channeling her mother, she said in a haughty voice, "That implies there has been an incident."

You could always depart the Archives, the man said, calling her bluff.

Enora frowned. Fine, fine. You win. She stowed no less than four gadgets before securing the lock.

The man smiled. Well then, you’re nearly ready. Here’s your map. Steer clear of the restricted sections. Several are quite dangerous. If you near one, the map will glow red. The main thoroughfare is lit up on the smart paper in blue. The Archives close at 9 o’clock.

Enora nodded. Are there any areas you recommend?

The Celestial Room and the Arkwright Wing are both popular with first-time visitors. If you prefer somewhere quiet, the Intergalactic Wards are a great place to study.

She nodded and made a brisk retreat. She couldn’t imagine her mother stowing her belongings in a locker, but it was better to stay far away from the entrances. Just in case her mother really had chipped her.

Down the main hall, she stopped to look at the map. Archaic just like this place. Why would anyone prefer paper? Could you keyword search this? Could you pull or up on holovision?

Still, it beat another of her mother’s lectures. She decided to make the best of it. The Arkwright Wing was only half a block away. She wondered what made it so noteworthy. Maybe all the shelves were hewn from a precious metal or stone.

The Arkwrights were known for commodities and mining. Each of the Seven royal families on Bellaton had a magical gift that ran in their family line. For Rockwells, it was foresight. For Arkwrights, it was the ability to move metal.

Enora’s family was said to be gifted with numbers. Her father could actually see them as if they surrounded him on a timeline. He could do math in a way that was rare and astounding. But she wasn’t sure she bought into the whole thing. A talent with numbers, an eidetic memory, a neurological diversion…those things weren’t magic. They were science. And the other families weren’t above pretending to have magical gifts to impress one another.

The Arkwright Wing had a palatial entrance hewn from dark, shimmering stone. She stepped through and into the rows and rows of shelves beyond. By her estimation, this wing might take up half a city block.

So far, she didn’t see anything of note here. Just old paper books. A few feet away, she spotted a young man close to her age. He had light brown hair that curled at the ends. He pulled a book from the shelf and carefully examined its spine. He wore the uniform of a library page.

She considered stopping to talk with him. Maybe he could tell her what was so special about the Arkwright Wing. Maybe he was an Arkwright.

Before she could reach him, a man in his thirties sidled up to the page. What are you doing here? he demanded.

The page looked up from his book. Just re-shelving. I need to learn the Arkwright call numbers for the Preservation Squad test.

The older man knocked the book out of the page’s hands. Hasn’t anyone told you? Bastards need not apply.

Enora winced but ignored the two men, choosing to walk down a row of books and out of their eyeline. She had enough trouble of her own.

Several minutes and many rows later, she came to what appeared to be the center of the Arkwright Wing— a large, vaulted space with a ceiling made from midnight blue, deep purple, and charcoal-colored gemstones. Light shone through, forming a moody gradient and casting dancing shadows on the stone-hewn tables below. The atmosphere was rich. But not the best for reading paper, she thought. Luckily, there were lamps on the tables too.

Just as she had decided to sit down and consult her map, the page boy came running into the room. His breath came in gasps, and he doubled over, clutching his side.

She looked around warily. Was he being chased? Bullying was one thing but an actual brawl in a library? How unprofessional could a grown man be? But no one else appeared.

For just a moment, there was stillness.

Then, books began to fly off the shelves, one by one. Soon, there were dozens and dozens floating in midair. They gathered in the center of the room and began to swirl clockwise, right above her head.

Move, the page shouted at her.

She did.

He seemed more resigned to the situation than alarmed. It was almost like he knew this would happen.

Meanwhile, the books were gaining steam. More and more of them were pulling into the air, and they were picking up speed. Books bashed into each other, and pages began to flutter toward the ground.

Enora was more curious than frightened by the display. So, she grabbed a book from a nearby shelf, covered her head, and ran toward the page. He was standing in the relative safety of a nearby aisle. What’s going on? she called over the noise.

The books have metal in their spines, he yelled back. They’re attracted to one another. Someone forgot to demagnetize them!

Are you an Arkwright?

No, he said shortly.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to declare himself.

I’m a bastard. Part Rockwell.

Her mouth opened. The jeers earlier hadn’t just been rude, they’d been true. Still, the way he owned it surprised her. It wasn’t often people surprised her. A small smile passed over her features. I see. And does the bastard have a name?

Castien.

She stuck out her hand, and he grasped it. Surprise was etched on his face, but his handshake was firm.

I’m Enora.

He gave her a dazzling smile. Well, Enora, how would you like to see the Archive’s finest demagnetization system at work?

The books were growing more violent now, and nearly one hundred of them circled overhead in a cloud of dust. Something had to be done and quickly.

At least she couldn’t say her afternoon was boring anymore. She nodded her agreement.

When I say so, we make a break for the opposite wall. You ready?

Ready, she agreed, holding the book over her head once more.

Now!

Together, they tore across the wide expanse and toward the opposite wall. Pages fell, but to her relief, the books stayed aloft. They found shelter under a two-foot obsidian overhang.

Castien moved a few feet down toward a small panel on the wall. He pressed a red button, and a warning alarm began to blare. An old-fashioned recording began to repeat, Ladies and gentlemen, the Arkwright Wing is now closed for maintenance. For your own safety, we ask that you follow the lighted path and please exit immediately.

Now what? she breathed, her heart hammering in her chest.

We wait for everyone to leave.

The books had now formed a swirling vortex, and they were pulling more and more tomes from the shelf. If they didn’t do something soon, the entire wing would be turned to wreckage.

The button turned yellow, and the readout above it showed the number one. That means there is only one patron left in the wing, you. He put his hand on a large metal switch. This is going to be loud, he warned. You might want to cover your ears.

She dropped her book and did as instructed.

Castien pulled the switch down, hard.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, a huge gale of wind began to howl. It came in gusts from every corner of the ceiling. More pages fell, and dust filled the air. The force of the wind grew so strong that it began to push the cluster of books toward the center of the room.

She moved her hands from her ears to her hair. Strands were falling from her bun and whipping around her face.

A moment later, the strongest gust yet came. All at once, one hundred books came clattering to the floor. The wind slowed and then died.

Whoa! she said, tucking an auburn curl behind her ear. Is that it? Is it safe now?

For now, he said with a smile. But those books need to be wiped down immediately, or it’ll all start again. Care to lend a hand?

She shrugged. You did save my life.

He laughed. I don’t know about that. At worst, I saved you from an asthma attack from all that swirling dust.

She sat next to him on the floor, and he handed her a special cloth.

Just wipe the spines, he instructed. The cloth will demagnetize them. That’s where the metal is.

Why do they have metal in the spines anyway? What’s the point?

A lot of this collection is old. When the Archives opened this wing, we had thousands of donations from family libraries. He shrugged and gave a small smile. I guess the Arkwrights who possess the gift like to be able to float their books down from the top shelves.

She laughed. Are you serious? How often does this happen?

He picked up a book, wiped its spine, and set it in a neat stack to his left. Not often. Never since I’ve been here.

She squinted at him, You were so calm. It was almost like you knew it would happen…

You saw the head page who works in this section, he said and trailed off.

You noticed me?

He gave a short laugh. Yeah, I noticed you.

They spent the next hour and a half wiping book spines and talking. She didn’t mind helping. Not really.

She had nowhere else to be, and as she studied him, she noticed he was just her type—warm hazel eyes and a smile that made her want to do anything he asked.

* * *

Enora finally met Peter.

She was in the middle of her third tea party with Lady Sylvia Rockwell and her mother when the prodigal son finally appeared.

Drat. Despite her best efforts to be subtly off-putting, she had somehow passed muster with Lady Rockwell. What a shame.

Peter was good-looking, objectively speaking, though not her type at all. He was muscular, thick-jawed, and inexpressive. His facial features were chiseled and bold. His body appeared to be hewn from stone as if he had never missed a day at the gym.

She rose and curtsied, giving him a slight smile.

He inclined his head toward her but said nothing.

Why don’t you take Enora for a tour of our gardens? Lady Rockwell said pointedly.

Peter nodded. Sure. Yeah. He didn’t pull out Enora’s chair for her, and that was fine. She didn’t need anyone to do so.

She followed behind him as he led her toward the glass doors and out into the yard. Once they were out of earshot of their mothers, she said, I’m Enora.

Peter, he rumbled in a low voice.

How unbelievable! Even his voice sounded strong but boring. So boring. She hoped his intellect wasn’t this glacial too.

Decorum dictated that Peter be the first to introduce a topic, so she waited as they drifted into the gardens. And waited some more.

Finally, she interjected, So, your mother tells me you enjoy reading?

He furrowed his thick eyebrows. Reading?

I believe she mentioned military history, she prompted. Come on, she thought, please give me something to work with.

He opened up to the topic of military history and spent the next twenty minutes talking slowly and relentlessly about various interplanetary sieges over the centuries.

When they reached a new section of the garden, she tried to change the subject. These roses are lovely. I’ve never seen any quite this large. I especially like the ones with the striated white and red petals. They look like a home cultivar.

Mmm, he grunted in reply.

Does your mother garden? she asked, hoping a more direct question would be helpful.

Yes. Often.

She let the subject drop, and after a few minutes, he returned to the topic of military history. She let her mind drift to the beautiful flowers around her. Perhaps, she would take up gardening when she was married. Someday, long from now, of course. When she met a man she actually wanted to marry.

Peter brought her back in a different door and asked her to wait. I want to get you something, he said.

She nodded, and he disappeared in the direction of the gardens.

Suddenly, she wondered if she had been wrong about Peter. Maybe he had gone to cut a rose for her. Maybe he had noticed how much she loved flowers.

A small smile crossed her lips.

Behind his dull exterior could beat the heart of a romantic. The sort of man that didn’t say much with his words but rather his actions.

Enora knew she was far from perfect. She was stubborn, independent, and too quick to judge. She’d often been told she was too opinionated. Perhaps, she had been too hasty.

Peter returned and handed her a physical book. She flipped it over curiously and read the title, Bellaton’s Greatest Battles. It was an old military history book. Since it was print and leather-bound, she supposed it was valuable.

With a broad, dull smile, he said, I look forward to discussing it with you next time.

Her heart plummeted as she thanked him. She would have been happier with a single rose from the garden. Was this her future? Dull conversation and bad gifts?

By the time, he returned her to tea, she was dejected.

On their way home, her mother gave her a harsh look. Don’t make that face, Enora. You’ve only just met. With time, I’m sure you will learn to love him.

How could anyone love a rock?

* * *

The following afternoon, Enora was still moping over the terrible meeting with Peter. She couldn’t marry him. She wouldn’t! There had to be a way out of this, if only she could think of it.

What did her parents admire most? Wealth, status, propriety. She had to find something that would fulfill those expectations. Of course, the simplest solution was to find an alternative match. He’d have to be of equal, if not higher, social standing.

That wouldn’t be easy. Like her, Peter was born into one of the seven ruling families and an advantageous one too. While her family specialized in finance, his family specialized in military. To her parents, this was the perfect match— power and money.

If she couldn’t present them with an alternative match, could she at least postpone the marriage? Was there any internship or fellowship that would be prestigious enough to convince them to delay this wedding disaster?

Just then, her mother popped her head into the room. Enora, darling, I’m off to the club, she called merrily. Try to do something productive while I’m gone.

Enora groaned.

As the skylift doors closed behind her mother, Enora realized all she wanted was to leave too. And why shouldn’t she? Since they were staying in the capitol this weekend, her mother would be out for the entire day. She’d probably have drinks too.

In a flash of inspiration, Enora changed out of her housecoat and into her favorite cream-colored tulle skirt and a matching shirt. Even though it was springtime, it was still cool in the capitol, so she topped it off with a muted denim jacket. The pale color palette complemented her dark auburn hair.

Not that her mother would agree. She would have never let Enora leave in this outfit. She believed tulle was meant as an underskirt only. The material is far too raw to be worn as a separate, she had declared.

Enora grinned and, in her final act of rebellion, slipped on a pair of canvas sneakers. They’d be far easier to walk in.

Without much thought, her defiant footwear led her straight back to the Archives. This time, she used the correct entrance.

To her surprise, the same doorman greeted her.

Do you work all of the entrances? she asked.

Only three— The Jacobses, the Rockwells, and the Arkwrights. I get a notification whenever someone approaches. Then, I take one of the zip-ports over. Voila!

As she wandered the Archives, she was willing to admit to herself that she was hoping to bump into Castien again. Her first stop was the Arkwright Wing. All was calm today. No signs of book tornadoes or the cute page.

Just as she was about to give up, she spotted him at a desk covered in papers and books. He was wearing round glasses and focused on an open book in front of him. Take note, he muttered. Demagnetization must be performed monthly. An Arkwright must be present. Senior level pages only.

Despite all the archaic paper surrounding him, he was using smart glasses to record his notes. She nodded approvingly. Good, he wasn’t a total Luddite. Though, she’d take a well-read Luddite over a well-bred rock any day. Not that anyone would give her the choice. She sighed out loud.

Castien’s head whipped up. When he saw her, a grin spread across his face. I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. Do you want to sit?

He was so straightforward. It was a welcome respite from her mandatory social engagements where pleasantries and formalities were required for even the smallest interaction. From all available evidence, Castien was an open book.

She accepted his invitation and joined him at the table. So, what are you working on? I thought you’d be busy saving the library from imploding, she teased.

He grinned. I’ve got that scheduled for later. Right now, I’m on break.

She raised an eyebrow at the papers and books surrounding him. This doesn’t look like casual reading.

It’s not, he admitted. I’m going to take the Preservation Squad exam.

What’s the Preservation Squad?

It’s the highest clearance you can get in the library.

She interrupted. Wait a minute. There are library employees with security clearances?

He gave her a charming grin. Knowledge is power.

It was adorable but also incredibly dorky. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes and waited for him to continue.

Anyway, it’s all there in the title. The Preservation Squad helps preserve the Archives and their works. His eyes gleamed with excitement. They have access to the restricted sections and handle the most ancient and valuable books.

Hmm, she said noncommittally.

You think it sounds boring, he accused.

Well… she admitted.

Let me guess, you’re one of those nouveaus who think everything should be digital.

She frowned. It’s only logical. How much is the upkeep for this facility, the staff, the tech, and the books themselves? Is it truly a worthy investment?

He chuckled. So, you’re a Jacobs.

She stuck out her chin. So what if I am?

So nothing. I’ve already told you I’m an outsider. I’m not interested in the royal families or their rivalries. However, I am interested in the Archives which is self-sustaining through donations and subscriptions.

"Really? There are that many people who want to come here?"

Of course! Look around. Don’t you think it’s amazing?

Not really. She winced after she said the words. This was the sort of disagreeable behavior that her parents would never tolerate. They often said she was too opinionated.

Castien didn’t seem to mind though. Instead, he seemed determined to persuade her. Come on. There must be something you’ll love. Where have you been so far?

Just the Rockwell entrance—he raised an eyebrow— a mistake, she added quickly. And the Arkwright Wing. Then, the Jacobs entrance to leave.

He laughed. No wonder. You haven’t seen anything yet! He shuffled his papers and books into a neat stack; then stood. Come along, Miss Jacobs. There’s a whole world out there to explore. He grinned and offered her a hand up.

She accepted it.

So, he asked. What are you into? Advanced mathematics? Music? Botany? 18th-century literature of the Northern Province? Trashy romance novels?

There’s nothing trashy about reading something you enjoy.

He nodded solemnly. True enough. The romance section then?

She laughed. No. I’d say advanced mathematics, but then I’d just think about internships. So, maybe botany? She was still thinking about the rose garden at the Rockwell’s home.

Botany, it is. Wait until you see the Fleur Family Reading Room.

She left her work behind and followed him for two city blocks. The entrance was marked with wooden columns, and vines trailed up both sides, framing the words Fleur Family Reading Room.

She followed him inside.

If elves and fairies were real, she felt certain their learned scholars would walk among these shelves. The sunlight-drenched room was expansive, round, and several stories tall. The walls were wooden and lined with thousands of books. Plants poured out of earthen window boxes and trailed along walls and shelves.

In the center of the room stood the most magnificent grove of trees she had ever seen. Their branches reached up, full of shimmering leaves, to form a gateway. It was just wide enough that visitors could easily pass from one side of the room to the other.

Castien gave her a knowing smile. So, what do you think?

It’s breathtaking, she said with reverence.

Come on, he said tugging her into the room. You haven’t seen anything yet.

He took her to the third floor, and they looked down at the tree grove below. From up here, the leaves looked silver and golden in the dappling sunlight. Small insects with iridescent wings took flight, casting rainbows.

Hidden off to the side, she noticed a large bin of books in various states of disrepair. Many had damaged bindings. Others had ripped pages. A few had what appeared to be mold growing inside them.

What happens to these? she asked, pointing toward the books in the bin.

The Preservation Squad will handle them. They go straight to the paperie where they will be sorted for salvage or recycle. He paused. If you want to explore for a bit, I should actually go through the shelves and add to the bin.

She’d almost forgotten. Castien was supposed to be working. He couldn’t just entertain her all day. She gave him a bright smile. Of course. Thank you for bringing me here. You were right about this place, she said.

He tilted his head back in faux ecstasy. Ah, a girl telling me I’m right, music to my ears!

She wrinkled her nose and swatted him gently. Can you point me toward books about cultivating roses?

There’s an entire section on the second level. Check the 230s. He glanced at her one more time and gave her a small, steady smile. And don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?

Without meaning to, she felt another smile pull at the corner of her lips. I wouldn’t dream of it.

She wandered the shelves for ages, napped in a small nook filled with ferns, and finally decided to check out a book on identifying rare rose species.

Then, she went to find Castien. He was still hard at work, and she offered to help. Together, they worked their way up and down the shelves, rescuing books ensnared by nasty vines and pulling others for the preservation bin. Some were disintegrating from age. The worst had begun to ooze a mysterious green slime.

They talked and laughed, and it made the work fun. Being with Castien was easy.

He glanced up at an old wooden clockface and said, You know, I’m off in half an hour. Can I buy you dinner?

Her eyes bulged. Dinner? Already?

He gave her an uneasy smile. I mean it is nearly seven o’clock, but it’s okay if you don’t want—

I’d love to, really, she assured him. But I have to go. My mom will, well, let’s just say, she’ll be expecting me.

He nodded. I understand.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. Did he really understand? She wasn’t rejecting him. She just had to go. Unsure what else to say, she started to leave.

Wait, he said.

She turned around.

Before you go, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.

She allowed her dark eyelashes to flutter shut. Her heart quickened in anticipation. Then, to her surprise, she heard a flurry of paper and felt something being pressed into the palm of her hand.

You can open your eyes, he said.

She did. In her hand was an origami flower, made from the folded pages of an old book with long-faded ink.

It was a rose. A perfect paper rose.

Castien smiled down at her. Thanks for helping me today. You’d better hurry if you want to make it home for dinner.

Enora felt light and happy. After her marriage meeting with Peter, her heart had begun to freeze, but with this one gesture from Castien, she felt the ice melt away. She looked down at the paper rose. Castien already understood her better than Peter ever would. Her heart bloomed, and it was summer once more.

She didn’t want to leave with him feeling uncertain. Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Are you sure you can’t stay? he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

She gave him a doe-eyed look and waved goodbye.

* * *

Enora wanted to return to the Archives, but it was difficult to get away.

As her graduation approached, her parents filled her time with exam preparation, mandatory social engagements, and, of course, time with her not-so-beloved, Peter. Her schedule was as boring as it was full.

By comparison, her time at the Archives felt like a daydream— a clever boy, a tornado of flying books, and a sun-drenched reading wonderland.

She liked Castien. He was cute, straightforward, and ambitious. It was too bad her family would never approve of the match. In fact, they’d be furious if they found out she was spending time with a library page.

Yesterday, she had tried to slip away unnoticed and been caught. Her mother had been standing in front of her dressing mirror, preparing for an evening out. The timing seemed perfect.

Enora had slipped into the hallway when her mother called out, And where do you think you’re going?

To the Bellatonian Archives, she answered.

"There is absolutely no reason to go all the way to the capitol to do schoolwork. You have every resource available to you right here! You have an infotab to pull up recordings and documents. All you have to do is search.

It is beginning to seem like you’re just trying to get away from me. She placed her hands on her hips. "Enora, I know you’re not happy about the match, but this is just the way of the world.

There is no running away from your duty.

* * *

But Enora wanted to run away from her duty.

One week later, she got her chance. Her parents ran a highly successful wealth management business, and they had just signed a very large client. For the next month, her father would be away onboarding the new account while her mother managed the business in his stead.

Enora was free.

There was no one to make her attend extra tutoring sessions or late-night supplementary lectures. There was no one to drag her to dull social events or marriage meetings on the weekends.

It felt too good to be true.

On her first afternoon off, she made her way back to the Archives. When she finally stepped through the doors, she felt her tension melt away. Her parents really were busy. They weren’t following her. She could really enjoy herself.

Unfortunately, as she stowed her devices, Enora realized she had no way to find Castien. After her daring kiss, she had practically run out of the room. They hadn’t exchanged any contact information. The Archives took up multiple city blocks. It could take an entire weekend to search all of the collections, and she only had a few hours.

Determined to make the best of it, she headed for the Arkwright Wing. After all, she’d found him there twice. Maybe, he’d be there again.

Her luck didn’t hold. Castien was nowhere to be seen. So, she made the long walk to the Fleur Family Reading Room, hoping to find him sorting books. He wasn’t there either.

Feeling defeated, she settled in a sunny nook and started reading a book on rare plants. As she turned the latest page, she cut her finger on the paper. Ouch, she cried, promptly sticking the finger in her mouth.

A shadow cast over her book, obscuring the words, and she looked up. To her surprise, it was Castien.

She pulled her finger out of her mouth and gave him a quick smile. Hey, I was hoping to run into you.

Me too. It’s been a while since your last visit. I wasn’t sure you were coming back.

She sighed. I wanted to, but my parents…

Enough said. He sat down beside her and gestured at her finger. What happened there? Paper cut?

Yes. This is why the world is rapidly going paperless, she muttered.

He chuckled. Such a nouveau.

I’m just being practical.

He stood, undeterred. Well, practical Enora, shall we attend to that finger?

It’s nothing, truly. I don’t need a med kit.

Oh, I have something far better in mind. Do you trust me?

She raised a suspicious eyebrow. Aren’t you supposed to be working? I don’t want you to get in trouble.

He grinned. My shift ended half an hour ago, but I had a feeling I might run into a pretty girl with auburn hair and a stubborn smile if I was patient.

She blushed.

He offered her his hand. So, what do you say? Want to see something wonderful?

She accepted his hand, and he laced his fingers through hers. Together, they left the Fleur Family Reading Room and made their way back to the main thoroughfare.

Where are we going? she asked.

To see one of the Seven Wonders of the Bellatonian Library. The Halt Healing Pavilion.

Enora wrinkled her nose. You don’t really believe all that, do you? That the royal lines contain magical gifts? That the Halts can heal?

He shrugged. You don’t?

No way unless you’re trying to tell me your Rockwell half can see straight into the future. She snorted.

You’re right. That’s ridiculous. Still, you’ll like the Halt Pavilion. The water feature really will fix that up for you.

Probably just beneficial bio-engineered bacteria in the water.

He gave her a crooked smile. Probably.

Unlike her, Castien didn’t need a map to navigate the Archives. He led them down expansive hallways and down narrow, twisting offshoots.

"So, what are the Seven Wonders of the Bellatonian Archives?" she asked.

Well, you’ve already seen two— the Tree of Knowledge and the Floating Books.

She raised an eyebrow. Floating?

He frowned. The books are usually handled by Arkwrights, and it’s more a spectacle and less of an impending disaster.

And the rest? she asked.

The Singing Stars, the Healing Waters, the Balance of Power, and the Looking Glass.

She crinkled her brow. But that’s only six total.

Ah, I almost forgot. You’re a Jacobs. He chuckled. The seventh is a secret. It’s rumored to be held in one of the Restricted Sections.

So, once you pass the Preservation Squad exam, you’ll get to see it?

He nodded, and his eyes gleamed with excitement.

"When is your exam?"

The next exam is in just over a month, though I’m not sure I’ll be ready in time. It’s a lot of material, he admitted.

She shrugged. I’ll help you study.

"But what about you? Aren’t you worried about your final exams?"

She laughed. My parents are worried enough for all of us. How about you show me the Seven Wonders of the Bellatonian Archives, and in exchange, I’ll help you pass your Preservation Squad exam?

He grinned. Deal.

She hadn’t been paying attention to where they were walking until she heard Castien groan, Closed?

She looked up and realized the walls had turned to sandstone and the floor to shells. Just ahead, a large plaque read Halt Family Pavilion. Unfortunately, a large metal door was blocking the walkway. Did we come to the wrong entrance? she asked.

He frowned. Do you have your map with you?

She pulled it out and handed it to him.

He scanned it quickly. It says the Halt Pavilion is closed, but that doesn’t make any sense. No maintenance was scheduled this week. He looked back up at her, disappointment in his eyes. I’m sorry. It’s rare an entire section is closed, especially during visiting hours.

She hurried to assure him. It’s okay. The paper cut is nothing. We can just walk around if you’d like.

Not to be deterred in his role as tour guide, Castien asked, How about dinner under the stars?

Her eyes lit up. Never in her life had a boy asked her to do something so romantic. Usually, her dates were chaperoned and choreographed. There was nothing improvised. Her face fell as she remembered the time. I’d love to, but I have to leave for home by seven.

To her surprise, he beamed back at her. That’s great! We have plenty of time.

It was hard not to smile when Castien was smiling, but what he was saying made no sense. It won’t get dark for hours. How can we see the stars?

Let me worry about that. Is takeout okay?

She nodded.

He led her to a staff-only section and asked her to wait outside. I’ll only be a minute, he promised.

True to his word, he returned with a picnic basket filled to the brim. I hope you like a variety. We’ve got an intergalactic staff with eclectic tastes.

I love it, she lied. The truth was she had rarely eaten intergalactic food and never takeout. Still, she was excited to try it and even more excited to eat with Castien.

As if reading her expression, he said, It’s just stuff from the staff stasis machine. Don’t get your hopes too high, but I think you’ll like the view.

Castien led her to the Celestial Room— the one the doorman had told her was a popular destination for newcomers. As she stepped through its large mahogany doors, she could immediately see why. She felt like she had just entered the forbidden workshop of an ancient astronomer. The walls were midnight blue with hand-painted constellations.

Castien led her past antique brass instruments and shelves of books toward a spiral staircase. They took it up to a domed observation deck. As they emerged from the staircase, the room darkened automatically, and they watched the stars move across the night sky. She knew it was an illusion, but it was spectacular.

They found a spot to settle on the ground and unpack their picnic. Castien had brought enough food for four people, so she could easily pick through and find a few familiar items.

They laughed and ate and stargazed. And