JASMINE
The North Wing library was nothing short of magnificent. Shelves of polished ebony wood stretched from floor to ceiling, cradling tomes that smelled of ink, dust, and time itself. Arched windows bathed the room in golden light, and the faint crackle of a fire from the hearth kept the chill at bay.
If the north wing didn't have a library, I would've gone crazy. Lucien made sure we had no access to electricity. I'm very much sure that he doesn't want me to call daisy and warn her.
I ran my fingers over the spines of ancient books, their titles embossed in silver, gold, or faded lettering that time had almost devoured.
To me these are answers.
Answers to my questions which are very much needed right now. Answers about this place. About Lucien's strong hatred for the D'Arvenzi's.
