AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“If you think so.”
“I do.”
Emmett only nodded in response and turned to leave. Calum stopped him as he reached the door. His voice was quiet and desperate.
“You will tell me what she thinks of the library, won’t you?”
Emmett turned around, a sad smile on his face. “Of course, Your Highness. Of course.” He couldn’t help but let the honorific slip, and he left Calum’s office before he could protest.
Chapter Twelve
Even with the exhaustion of the past few days, Fern hadn’t been sleeping. When Emmett showed up on her front step a day later, she was pleasant and was excited to see him, but her enthusiasm was forced.
They chatted aimlessly on the walk to the library, and Emmett happily filled in the silence so she didn’t feel the need to talk. The library was tucked into a row of Victorian buildings, with a short set of steps up to the front door.
“Oh, I’ve never met a library I didn’t love,” Fern squealed with genuine excitement as they approached it.
A small, blue plaque stood out against the grey wall, indicating the library. As Fern walked past it, the sign moved. Even though the sky was overcast, the letters glittered in the light, and the shape shifted. Fern paused on the steps, watching as they rearranged themselves.
“Go on.” Emmett nudged her, and Fern kept walking before she could see what the sign now said.
He followed Fern up the stairs, where she waited for him to enter first.
“Welcome,” Emmett beamed, “to the Department of Highland Magic’s library.” Fern stepped inside and nearly collapsed at the sight.
Her first observation was that the building was larger inside than it looked; it was bewitched. Fern was standing in a magnificent hall at least four stories high that went so far back, she couldn’t see where it ended. She was standing on a balcony with a double staircase leading down to the main floor. It almost reminded her of the Peabody Library, yet somehow even grander.
On the floor, rows of desks were decorated with banker lamps and tabletop lights with Tiffany’s glass. Magical creatures of all sorts, without their glamours, were taking notes or were deeply entrenched in whatever they were reading. The desks were flanked on both sides by mazes of shelves decorated with lit torches.
Fern could hardly catch her breath as she looked up, catching glimpses of the levels above them. Each floor looked out over the main hall. A massive model of the universe hung from the ceiling, and Fern was dying to get up to one of the higher floors to look closer. The ceiling itself was a massive dome, decorated in stained glass with mythical depictions that she was itching to decode.
A series of movements caught her eye, and Fern nearly let out a squeal when she realized what she was seeing. Brownies and sprites were flying back and forth, up the main atrium and disappearing into other parts of the building. All of them were carrying manuscripts or bound tomes, and Fern realized they were re-shelving them.
The entire space crackled with magic and smelled like ink and old books. Fern almost fainted as she tried to take it all in.
“The School of Scottish Studies is a front.” Emmett sounded pleased with himself. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
Fern sucked in a deep breath and blinked rapidly. Her face lit up. “This place is amazing. I could get lost in here for hours.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Emmett started walking down the steps to the main floor and indicated for Fern to follow. “It became a bit of a pet project of Calum’s over the centuries. This library and the department office are the only places on campus that you’ll find people without their glamours.”
Fern said nothing, but her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Calum’s name. She followed Emmett as he weaved his way through the bookshelves, nearly losing sight of him as she stopped to read the titles.
An Appendix of Wulver Activity in the Highlands
The Care and Keeping of Bewitched Creatures
1,001 Magical Uses for Heather [and Other Indigenous Plant Life], Vol. I
The Art of Negotiation and Territorial Disputes: from Clan Lands to Castles
“Fern,” Emmett poked his head from around a shelf, “this way.” Fern looked longingly at all the books that surrounded her, and he laughed, reassuring her, “You can come back any time you’d like.” Only then did Fern give the shelves a final, departing look and followed him through the maze.
Emmett stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of an office door with a frosted windowpane. The words ‘Emmett O’Neill, Senior Archivist’ were printed in gold across it.
“This is me,” he grinned. “I’m in charge of most of the class rosters, so I’ve got your schedule inside.” A quick pang of disappointment went through Fern when she realized she wouldn’t need to speak to Calum for that information.
“I’d assumed you’d want me researching the…curse all semester.” Fern’s words were stilted.
