Page 80 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
Her smile widened as if the power of her politeness alone would convince us to leave. “As I said, the library is closed. The only ones here are me and the books.”
Sinceno oneshould have been hanging around a library in a cursed forest, her assurances fell flat. With a tight smile, I insisted, “We’d appreciate the chance to look around and confirm for ourselves.”
The strain on her patience finally split her lips, exposing a hint of sharp teeth, before she recovered herself and continued speaking in a proper customer service voice. “I can’t allow patrons to wander the library after hours. You’ll simply have to return when the library opens.”
“When does it open?” Maximus asked.
“We’re open from sun-up to sun-down every day.”
The sun didn’t rise or set in Grimnight. Either the library continued to operate on its old schedule, regardless of whether we could see the sun, or it was always closed.
Trying to reason with her wouldn’t save Fitz.
A black bead of sweat dripped down the librarian’s brow and she swiftly wiped it away. “You need to leave.”
“Fine,” I said, sheathing my sword. “We’ll leave.”
Delilah opened her mouth to argue, but I looped my arm through hers and dragged her out the door. After a few steps, she fixed her gait to match mine and we walked out together, Maximus close onour heels.
The door closed gently behind us. The stone Maximus had used as a doorstop lazily rolled a few inches away before stopping near our feet.
“Why’d we leave?” Delilah demanded. “We never found Fitz!”
“Did you really want to fight a ghost librarian?” I asked. “We’ll find another way in.”
When we walked around the right side of the building, we found a door marked “Staff Only.” In place of a handle, there was an intricate sigil, a magical ward to keep out trespassers.
Maximus traced the looping lines of the sigil with a fingertip. At his touch, they shimmered faintly before fading into the wood.
“It’ll take hours to guess the correct pattern,” I said.
Maximus sighed and flattened his hand over the ward. “Next time.” Then he stepped back, allowing me to take his place.
I thrust my iron sword into the wood, disrupting the magic and the delicate craftsmanship. The sigil sparked and trembled, protesting the sudden invasion. The blade vibrated with enough energy to numb my arm. I gritted my teeth and grabbed the hilt with my other hand, slowly twisting the sword like a key in a lock.
The magic snapped as the ward disappeared, and the door reluctantly creaked open.
It stopped a few inches in as it caught on something. Maximus and I pushed together to shove it open past the blockage. It scraped against the floor until the pressure suddenly released, and we tumbled into the room. An overturned box lay in our path, files spilling onto the floor.
I bent down and gathered them into a pile, scanning each one to figure out the best organization system.
Maximus silently held out his hand and I passed my pile to him while I gathered up another stack. He righted the box and sorted through the remaining contents, ensuring each file went back in its proper place.
“What are youdoing?” Delilah’s whispered hiss snapped me out of my task-driven daze.
I dropped the papers, allowing them to scatter in every direction. Maximus exclaimed in distress and tried to fix the mess, but I kicked the box out of his reach.
He blinked and shook his head, pressing one hand to his forehead.
“A spell,” I explained. “It probably triggered because we broke in rather than deactivating the ward. Anyone caught in the spell would be occupied filing until someone could investigate the break-in.”
The office didn’t look enchanted or haunted. One side of the wall was lined with filing cabinets, the other lined with shelves. Tiny labels marked each section in neat, precise handwriting. Other boxes littered the floor, like someone had abandoned a reorganization project halfway through. I pushed them out of my way with my foot, carving a path toward the door on the far end of the room.
Beyond the field of paper were several desks separated by short walls. Each desk was scattered with half-finished projects and piles of books. Like the employees would return any minute from a break or a staff meeting. Had others stayed behind to guard the library?
We instinctively softened our steps as we walked past the desks, afraid of summoning their ghostly occupants.
The door on the end was closed but not locked. I turned the handle and opened it an inch, peeking into the library. From here, I could see the other side of the information desk, a ledger of some sort, and a cart of books.
