The library welcomed me like an old friend. Its high windows let in a steady spill of sunlight, turning the dust motes into drifting sparks. Shelves towered around me, their spines whispering of stories, history, and knowledge I had barely begun to touch. I trailed my fingers along the polished wood of the nearest shelf, the warmth of Lyra’s words still wrapped around me.
You are the first—and the only.
It replayed in my mind, a balm against the gnawing doubts that had been threatening to take root.
The book I was trying to find some answers in was old — its leather cover cracked, the title long worn away. But curiosity had won out. Because I needed to know. After last night — after the bruise, after the way Varion had said I wanted to mark you — I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ab
