I found the library because I got lost.
Not metaphorically. Literally. I took a wrong turn in the second-floor corridor while looking for the study Damian had mentioned last week—a study Mrs. Sari had pointed out but that somehow turned out to be harder to find than it should have been in a house I had technically been living in for two weeks.
The door at the end of the right corridor was supposed to be that study.
It wasn't.
The room was larger than I would have imagined for something no one had ever mentioned—three walls lined with dark wooden bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling, books arranged according to a system that wasn't immediately obvious but clearly existed, a reading table in the center with a hanging lamp above it, and two old brown leather armchairs in the corne
