Page 18 of The Scars Within
“Do you know where the library is?” I asked her.
Laney smiled, and I knew we wouldn’t be heading to our bedchambers early tonight.
She called over her shoulder, “TT, Cleo. Want to join us on a trip to the library?”
“Meh!” Tatum groaned as she continued walking into our dorm.
“Pass,” Cleo said, following Tatum.
Once we passed through the library’s grand archway, I was instantly struck with awe. Mageia’s library is the largest room I’ve seen, with a vaulted ceiling stretching three levels up. I craned my neck to admire the beautiful ceiling above. It’s painted in deep shades of blue and adorned with cascading vines that hang parchment lanterns from them.
The temperature is cool and controlled, proving the testament of the efforts to preserve the books. There is a dormant fireplace on the bottom floor of each corner, the warmth being unnecessary during the summer months but would provide the coziest feel in the winter.
In the center of the room, an extraordinary round staircase spirals upward, winding its way around the trunk of a majestic weeping willow. Its cascading branches gracefully hang over four bridged walkways, leading to the second—and third-level bookcases. Soft breezes gently stir the tree branches, their movement barely audible—a soothing background to the tranquil atmosphere.
“Isn’t it fascinating?” Laney’s eyes sparkled.
“This is the most magical place I’ve ever seen,” I murmured with a starstruck smile.
Laney skipped up the central staircase, and I followed, taking in every intricate detail entwined in its design. She exited onto the second floor and brushed her fingers along the books on the shelves as she hummed. Her daily enthusiasm is infectious, making it seem like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
She stopped at one section, standing with her finger on her lip as if searching for something specific.
“What is your favorite genre?” she asked.
I hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve only been lucky enough to get my hands on maybe ten books in my lifetime. All of them were nonfiction.”
She stared at me, puzzled, then reached high on her tiptoes for a novel with a deep blue leather cover. Handing it to me, she said, “Here, it’s one of my favorite stories.”
I took the book and read the cover aloud, “Throne of Steel. What continent’s story is this about?”
“Oh, no,” she giggled. “It’s fiction. But it is a series, so if you like that one, we can come back to get the others for you. The female character in it is my role model. I think you’ll like her too. The series as a whole inspired me to join Mageia and put my badass-ery to good use.”
“Deal,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “What are you going to get?”
“I’ve been searching all over for this novel calledHelpless. It’s got a real ‘beast gets the beauty’ vibe. Aha!” she shrieked. “Found it! Now let’s stay up all night reading and ignore being responsible and well-rested for tomorrow.”
We practically ran out of the library, books in our arms, eager to dive into our new fantasy worlds. Slipping quietly through the hallways, we passed a group of uniformed men when I overheard a name that struck me straight in the chest.
“Captain Thorne will not be pleased,” one of the men said as we walked by. I stopped in my tracks.
“But did you tell him about…” another began, but his companion cut him off once he noticed my sudden halt. Embarrassed, I quickly turned and hurried to catch up with Laney.
She was talking a mile a minute, utterly oblivious to the name I had just heard.
Thorne. Captain Thorne.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
Chapter 8
Mornings were never my thing, especially after staying up too late, nose-deep in a book. Laney and I had been up until the early hours, engrossed in our novels from the library. She wasn’t wrong—I am really enjoying the female lead.
Today, we’ll be attending Intro to Water Wielding and History of Warfare. It’s also the first day of our work assignments, which I am surprisingly excited about. The mere thought of a hot cup of coffee had me springing out of bed, throwing on my clothes, and heading to the bathing chambers to freshen up.
With my hair brushed and teeth scrubbed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—my hazel eyes staring back at me. Usually, I don’t care much about how I look, but today, for some reason, I felt the need to appear at least somewhat put together. My wavy brown hair is cut to a medium length, and I reached behind to braid it down my back. As I reached up and behind my head with my arms, I noticed another random bruise under my right elbow.
