Chapter Twenty-Two
ProserpinaThree nights later, the only sounds in the library are the popping of the fire, the melancholy drone of Becket’s indie playlist, and the sound of pages turning. The first long library table has become a mess of stacks and piles that only makes sense to me and the spreadsheet I’ve made to tabulate everything. The second table is the shared workspace of everyone else as they flip through each text and scan for mentions of what we’re looking for. Only Rebecca is spared going through the books tonight, as Tobias has forwarded over his official archaeological report, and she seems to have an irritated interest in familiarizing herself with the tombs that so rudely interrupted her labyrinth project.
“If I read another Victorian version of Tam Lin, I will crawl i
