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CHAPTER10

It was in a tree, Tamsin had said, when she’d told Cathy and the rest of the gang about her own visit to Aodhan’s library. Her hands had sketched vague shapes in the air, trying to convey something she couldn’t find words to describe. A really big tree.

Cathy had thus been picturing… well, a tree. An impressive, magical tree, of course, big enough to support multiple platforms in its branches and a few rooms within the trunk itself, but still just a tree.

If I ever get back home, I am going to have words with Tamsin about her mastery of understatement.

The tree was not ‘really big.’ It was enormous.

Her own modest house would have fit five times over into the area covered by the base of the trunk alone. Dozens of windows glittered amidst deep, furrowed ridges of bark. Craning her neck back, she could barely make out the vast, spreading crown, so high up that she honestly wouldn’t have been surprised to see clouds caught amidst the gnarled branches. There were honest-to-God towers up there, with round, pitched roofs like witches’ hats. Calling this living cathedral a ‘tree’ was like referring to a skyscraper as a building; technically correct, and not even remotely helpful.

But the outside was nothing compared to what lay within.

Cathy froze in the doorway, her brain simply refusing to process the sight. When Aodhan had said he had an ‘extensive’ collection of books, she’d assumed he meant by medieval standards. She couldn’t imagine that fairies had printing presses. To him, a few hundred books probably would be a vast library. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she’d been prepared to fake a suitably impressed expression.

As it turned out, she should have been more worried about not looking like a landed haddock.

The whole tree was hollow. Narrow beams of sunlight filtered through small, scattered windows, barely illuminating a fraction of the cavernous interior. A complex network of platforms linked by arching walkways spiraled up the sides of the chamber, disappearing into shadow.

And the entire vast, curving space was lined with books.

There were books everywhere. Some shelves displayed volumes in neat, matching rows, while others were crammed full with higgledy-piggledy stacks. There were giant leather-bound volumes longer than her arm; flimsy pamphlets; pigeonholes full of carefully archived scrolls. Everywhere she looked, she saw books of every color and shape and size.

Dozens of mobile ladders mounted onto tracks gave access to even the most remote shelves. Down at ground level, low tables bore yet more books. Many were open, or had dozens of bookmarks sprouting from their pages. Scattered notes in precise copperplate handwriting covered every surface like drifts of fallen leaves.

This was not some archive of carefully preserved, unread tomes, as sterile and dead as butterflies pinned in glass cases. This was a living library, in every sense. She could hear the slow, deep groan of the tree shifting on its roots, sap humming through the thick walls. The green smell of growing leaves mixed in with the drier, dustier scents of leather and paper.

It took Aodhan a moment to realize she wasn’t following him. He turned, one eyebrow raising quizzically. “Something wrong?”

Cathy couldn’t answer, still stunned by the staggering wealth of accumulated knowledge. She didn’t dare move, in case she dislodged some critical piece of paper and ruined months of work. It was like walking into the mind of a genius, caught up in the middle of some vast, complicated thought; like stepping into Aodhan’s mind.

“For Herne’s sake, human. They’re books, not rabid weasels. They won’t bite.” Aodhan paused, as though reconsidering this statement. “Well. Most of them won’t.”

Cathy, who’d been in the middle of a tentative step forward, froze again. “Are they magic?”

“Of course.” Aodhan’s eyebrow arched higher. “They’re books.”

Noodle, who’d been at her heels, yapped impatiently. A brief chill tingled up Cathy’s legs as the black dog phased through her shins. Apparently not at all concerned by the prospect of death by hardback, the puppy trotted over to investigate the nearest shelf. He sniffed thoughtfully at a protruding tome.

“That is an original edition of Caerlian’s commentaries on goblin inter-clan economics,” Aodhan informed the puppy. “I assure you, it is quite indigestible.”

Cathy snatched up the puppy before he could start chewing on anything magical. “Maybe we should put him somewhere without books?”

“That’s going to be a challenge,” Aodhan said dryly. “And even if I possessed such a pointless room, may I remind you the beast can walk through walls. Don’t worry, you can let it go. I wouldn’t have let the wretched thing within six leagues of my oak if it could do any real damage.”

Cathy tightened her grip on Noodle’s collar anyway, as though that was going to do anything to stop a selectively intangible dog from ripping Aodhan’s library to shreds. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. The first thing I do with any book that comes into my possession is perform a preservation and protection ritual of my own devising. Repels all pests, from woodworm to wyverns. I’ve tested it extensively.” Aodhan looked pained. “Believe me, letting termites get into a magical grimoire is the sort of mistake you only make once.”

Cathy released Noodle, though she stayed poised to catch the dog again, just in case. Fortunately, either the puppy was well-trained, or Aodhan’s spells were indeed effective. Noodle sniffed at a few more books, but showed no inclination to take a bite—or worse, lift a leg.

“Come on.” Aodhan turned, threading his way through the stacks of books with the unconscious grace of someone who could have navigated the room blindfolded. “My personal chamber is at the top. You can get dried off there.”

Cathy looked up at the dizzying spiderweb of mezzanine floors and ladders overhead and swallowed a wave of vertigo. Her knees, already unhappy with the abuse they’d received today, threatened mutiny. “That’s a long way to climb.”

Aodhan flashed her a distinctly smug look over his shoulder. With brisk, confident strides, the mage headed for the only patch of wall not covered in bookshelves. Cathy half-expected him to walk straight through it—by this point, nothing would have surprised her—but he paused, fixing the blank wood with a stern glare.

“Bedroom.” Aodhan spoke in firm, clear tones, as though addressing a somewhat disobedient dog. “And, just to clarify, I would like the door at the same level as the floor this time. Not up by the ceiling.”


Tags: Zoe Chant Fae Mates Paranormal