Chapter Twenty Five #2
“And you’re here.”
He shrugs. “Given the invasion, I rather appreciate the clarity of the All Knowing even if I had to repair an inordinate amount of books to get everything in order.”
“Not my doing,” I point out.
“No, but you were the cause,” he volleys.
“Rude,” I mutter. “Accurate, but rude.”
He adjusts his spectacles and peers over them at me like I’m an inconvenient footnote. “Things have changed.”
“I see that.”
The shelves are no longer just towering—they are growing.
Curling upward and outward in spirals that didn’t exist before, threading through one another like branches of an ancient, sentient tree.
Walkways have formed between them, bridges of woven ink and parchment.
Clusters of murmuring books drift together like flocks, their pages flicking open and shut as if gossiping.
Some dart away when we pass while others hover closer, curious.
Ink runs through the air in thin, glowing streams, connecting from shelf to shelf like veins.
But that’s not the biggest change. There are people everywhere I look.
“Why and who?” Nash trails off.
“Refugees,” Gwyneth says.
Creatures—some I recognize, some I don’t—are scattered throughout the Library.
A wolf sits in one corner, spectacles perched on his snout as he carefully turns the pages of a book with one claw, muttering to himself.
A glass slipper leads a charge of various sentient footwear across the wooden floor.
A black cat slinks across the floor, eyes focused on three mice in tiny waistcoats arguing over a map while making threatening motions with tiny swords.
Gwyneth snaps her fingers. “No hunting in the Living Library,” she growls.
The black cat freezes before plonking its butt down and licking its paw as if it has no cares in the world.
Oh, to be a cat.
“Hello, beautiful,” I coo.
“Do not adopt it,” Nash snaps.
“What if it adopts me?”
“We’re establishing a temporary freeze on the acquisition of new team members,” Theo replies with a huff.
His hand brushes mine, grounding me, reassuring me that he has my back.
But it’s also a reminder I need to solidify my connection with him and the twins.
It’s a hard job keeping five sausages happy, but I’m the maiden for the job.
Genie raises a finger. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see a hare about a card game.” He poofs out without waiting for said excuse.
“Follow me, and I’ll explain,” Gwyneth says, walking ahead, her fingers trailing along the spines of books as they lean into her touch. That power in my veins hums in response.
“It’s expanding,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
“How?”
She glances back at me. “It’s responding to the needs of the realm and offering safety to those in peril from the oncoming war.”
My jaw tightens. “The Idols. They need to be managed.”
She chuckles. “Much like you did the Red Queen?”
“That wasn’t intentional, but she was threatening people I love.”
“This started happening the tempo you left to find your dragon.” She gestures vaguely at the air.
“Not sure what the consequences of the obliteration of an Idol will have.” Me either.
“Your return wasn’t written in any story or foretold in any lore.
You escaped your fate, and that set a precedent for others to do the same. ”
“That’s a lot of pressure for a maiden who once got tangled in Rapunzel’s ribbons and caused a village-wide panic that I was turning into a villain with a new method of kidnapping.”
Gwyneth snorts. “Those ribbons had it coming. No one needs thirty-six different colors.”
We follow her deeper, the Library shifting around us as we move, creating new sections.
Entire wings I’ve never seen before spiral into existence, the architecture fluid, responsive.
One corridor forms from stacked books that flatten into a smooth walkway as we step onto it.
Another arches overhead, pages turning to create a canopy of moving text.
“Is it doing this because of us?” Theo asks.
“Yes,” Gwyneth says.
We pass a long table where a group of sidekicks have gathered. A talking teapot. A disgruntled swan. A mirror that keeps trying to interrupt.
“We were essential,” the swan says.
“You were background noise,” the teapot replies.
“I was emotional support.”
“You bit the hero.”
The swan squawks. “He needed humbling.”
The mirror chimes in, “I saw everything—”
“No one asked you,” they say in unison.
I clap a hand over my mouth. “I love them.”
“They’ve been displaced,” Gwyneth explains. “When the stories started loosening, the ones who no longer fit and the ones who were never meant to matter were drawn here.”
My chest tightens. “They matter. They all matter.”
“I know.”
We continue up a spiral staircase that forms beneath our feet with each step we take, across a bridge of ink that ripples like water, and through a corridor where the walls are made entirely of unfinished stories—sentences that stop mid-thought, waiting.
This is astonishing. I can hear the knights murmuring behind me as they take in the spectacle.
We reach the farthest corner where it’s quieter but with a pulse of power, a space carved out away from curious eyes.
The heart of the Living Library. Rooms branch off down a corridor.
Charming disappears inside one, and my capons come barreling out, clucking in a way that tells me they have seen things that need scrubbing from their tiny brains.
I scoop up Hamish and bop her on the nose. “You are still the most wise, and yes, I missed you too.”
Eugene pecks my boot. I set Hamish down and pick her sister up. “And you are still the most beautiful. I missed you too.” Eugene blinks and pecks my nose. I smile as I put her down.
“These are our quarters,” Gwyneth says.
I blink. “Ours?”
She nods. “The Living Library provides for those who protect it.” She points to another open doorway. “That’s your chamber.”
Chamber. One. I suppose we could take turns, a rolling schedule of who gets the bed. My face heats a little at the thought. Hopefully, they’re soundproof.
Theo snorts, and everyone turns to look at him. His eyes dance with mirth as he shakes his head.
Charming reappears with a shawl in hand and wraps it around my sister’s shoulders. I glare at the ease between them, and then at the chamber doorway. Do they share a chamber? She can stay with me if that’s the case.
We need a sister talk, free from the sausage fest surrounding us.
I grab her hand and wave over my shoulder.
“Girl talk. No sausage allowed unless it’s edible.
Then give us a holler.” I stride into the chambers she declared were mine—ours—and slam the door closed in the faces of four knights and one confused prince.
“What in the Blazes, Daphne?” she huffs.
I point at her. “Sit and explain everything to me about why Charming is fetching shawls from your chambers.” She blushes drops onto the edge of a huge bed. I’ll need to circle back to that well thought out and practical item later.
“Things have changed,” she whispers. “You were gone.”
“I know. But him? Anyone but him, surely?”
She shrugs and blows out a breath. “It just happened.”
“Was there enchanted footwear involved?”
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“Not this time.”
“A love potion?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I throw my hands up. “You could have anyone in the realm. You’re smart—smarter than smart. And more beautiful than any princess could ever hope to be, even without the horrible unicorn horn glow-up.”
“Don’t judge me. Please, Daphne, I couldn’t stand it.”
I drop to my knees in front of her and clasp her hands in mine.
“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant.” Our foreheads touch, both of our cheeks damp with tears.
“I could never judge you. Blazes, I am the maiden juggling not one but four knights. Although none of them demanded I spend a night in their chambers, all because of some poorly designed footwear. But I assume, if he is in your good graces, that he’s learning how to be better. ”
“He is.”
“And you do love a project.”
She blows out a breath. “I do.”
I shrug. “And after we’ve finished fixing the Hallows, you’ll still need something to keep you busy.”
She chuckles. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
She wriggles her hands free and cups my face. “Follow your heart, but please, for the love of me and those heartbroken knights, stop dying, drowning, or any other permutations of a future where you are not in it.”
“Deal. But about that.”
She squints at me. “What happened?”
I glance at the closed door behind me and bite my lip. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
She tilts her head. “Did one of those Stirlings do something? Because no matter how pretty they are, I will—”
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. This is since I dealt with the Red Queen.”
“Exploded her, you mean.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t accept that description on account of the lack of goo.”
“Right. No evidence means no murder.”
“Hard to prove without a body. But I’m getting off topic.” I stand and take a step back, not entirely sure what I’m about to do or what the consequences are. But if anyone can figure it out, it’s Gwyneth and that enormous, clever brain of hers.
I shudder as the power rises beneath my skin, pressing against my nerve endings. Light blooms from my fingertips, followed by a wisp of sparkly red magic. “Ooh, pretty,” I murmur.
“Daphne, what’s happening?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.”
The swell continues to rise, up and up until it feels like I’m choking. A roar comes from outside, and the door flies open as Theo thunders through, eyes gleaming gold. His clothing shreds and his dragon tears through.
Oh, no. Nope. There’s not enough room in here for a damn overgrown dragon.
“Theo, stop,” I shout as the dragon’s head pushes against the ceiling. I wave my hand. “You won’t fit.” Magic flares in the air and hits him square on the snout. He sneezes, blinks, and begins to shrink, smaller and then smaller still. But he’s still a dragon.
The knights and Charming join us in the chambers, and I cover my mouth with my hand. He’s not going to keep shrinking, right?
He stops at knee height, cute as a button and significantly less terrifying.
Hart throws his head back and laughs.
“Never a dull tempo,” Malachi muses with a raised brow in my direction.
“I didn’t do that.”
Baby Theo sneezes again, a little puff of smoke curling into the air. He blinks at me, toddles over, and curls up at my feet like an obedient pet.
I ask the only thing anyone sane would. “Can I keep him?”