Page 56 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

“Come on,” he said with a grin. “Snacks are this way. Mr. Jones prefers no food in here, which I assume you won’t argue with.”

Max definitely wouldn’t. The preservation spells should help ensure that no damage came to the books, but there was no point in taking silly risks.

“The latch apparently doesn’t open if there’s someone out there who’s not part of the ward spell,” Rory explained as they got to the door. “It can be overridden by pressing it three times, but it’s meant to help reduce the chance that any normal people catch sight of the room—though really, I don’t think anyone would be surprised that a library like this has a secret room.”

No, probably not. But it was still good to take precautions.

In this case, the door pulled open easily, and they were able to pass into the main library and gobble down some tea sandwiches, fresh fruit, and cookies.

“I can see why Mr. Jones likes having a personal cook,” Max admitted.

Rory was grinning again. “I checked again when Mrs. Finch delivered the snacks if she’d like to come work for us, but she just laughed.”

Max assumed that she was well paid, and she seemed happy enough, not that Max had had an in-depth conversation with her or anything.

“We’re managing very well with the changes you’ve implemented,” Max pointed out with a smile. “The cookies and coffee were inspired.”

Rory looked very pleased. “I’m glad you think so. I want everything to go right with the shop.”

Honestly, Rory seemed as invested as Max was.

And then the realization hit him, and he jolted straighter in his chair. “The bookshop!”

“Relax,” Rory soothed, smiling reassuringly at him. “Alex and I have been texting. Everything’s going totally fine, and they’re not worried about anything. I told them to text or call me if anything came up.”

Max hadn’t even heard his phone beep. “Oh. Uh, thank you.”

Rory’s smile was soft. “Of course.”

Max had never met someone who anticipated his needs quite as well as Rory did. Nothing seemed to faze the man, and it made Max feel more comfortable than he could ever have imagined. He didn’t feel guilty or defensive of his interests, and as a result, he voluntarily spent a lot more time with Rory. Why had there been no people other than his family like this in his life before now?

Or was it because he wasn’t supposed to find it until Rory? He still wasn’t sure about this whole fate thing.

Once they’d polished off the tray, they went back into the hidden room, and Max went back to his perusal of the shelves, trying to get a better idea of what was in there. Rory settled down with his book, not bothered by Max’s preoccupation.

Max was more aware of the other man this time, though. “Come take a look at this.”

Rory jumped to his feet and came over to look.

Max pointed. “This whole section of the book is labeled ‘spells for your enemy,’ and I don’t know who did it or when, but someone has gone in and made modifications that break the spells. I can’t even tell where the damage is. Maybe they were copied wrong from the very beginning? But none of them are working spells.”

Rory smiled. “See? You’re not the only one trying to make sure that witches use spells responsibly.”

Max was glad of that. There was only one of him, and he appreciated very much any help he could get, even if it was from years or decades before. (In fact, that meant more years where the spells couldn’t have been used by anyone, which was awesome.)

But Max was beginning to think that Spellsmiths hadn’t been punished severely enough for inventing some really awful spells.

On the other hand, when your entire society was structured around one small group of people being able to make spells, there was probably a point at which they could kind effectively hold everyone else hostage if they wanted to. The witch society depended on them—if not quite utterly, certainly for anything new that needed to be invented.

Max was trying to lay the groundwork for less dependence. They were a long way from that at the moment, but the more collections Max had access to, the more spells he could catalogue. He doubted any one Spellreader could read all the spells that existed in the world, but as long as repositories weren’t lost, all that knowledge could accumulate and pass down.

Max was continuing his mother’s work, after all.

It seemed like no time at all before Rory was reminding him that they had dinner at 5:30. A look at his watch showed him that it was already after five.

Max was quite certain he could spend the next few years in here and not run out of spells.

But that wasn’t on the cards right now. Thanks to cleaning spells, the room had been spotless, but after spending hours in there, Max still felt like he should stretch, splash some water on his face, and wash his hands before he headed into dinner.