The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,155
light as it should have been. He gestured to his face. “I suppose there’s no being mistaken for a hero now.”
Claire turned back to the shelves. “Don’t be silly. You could be a grimdark darling. Heartless and rugged.”
“Rugged. Now, there’s something I’ve never been called.” Hero chuckled, the act of which made him grimace. “But this place is dark enough for both of us.”
“Andras was not a bright person. Spaces match their owners.” Claire gave the warren of bleak cages a baleful look.
“So why isn’t it changing?”
The way Claire blinked at him elicited another chuckle that looked like it hurt. Hero rubbed his ribs ruefully. “It never occurred to you. You’re still thinking of this place as Andras’s. It’s yours now, isn’t it?”
It stung a little, but Claire had to nod. Hero made an imperious gesture. “Then Claire-ify it. Oh—clarify! God, I’m clever.”
“Please stop,” Claire groaned, and surveyed the lab, if only to shut him up. It was too dark, too sterile, too much a cross between Frankenstein’s laboratory and a Gothic parlor. She concentrated, remembering the golden glow of the Library, shabbily appointed chairs, and hot tea. She couldn’t re-create that, but perhaps she could create something adjacent.
The shift was slow, like that of a photo developing in a dark room. Color slowly seeped into the walls, warming the wood. Pools of light sprang up with lamps where there were none a moment before. The orientation of the lab seemed to pivot around her until all had changed. Claire twisted around slowly to take it in.
Tidy cubbies built of dark wood made neat rows along the sides of the large room. Each row was spotted intermittently with a globe lamp. An ordinary lamp, not like those in the Library she knew, made of frosted glass and brass, but tidy and functional. Generous worktables dotted the front, gleaming with polished wood and more brass tools lit by overhead lights. It was warm, orderly, if too mechanical. Not quite the Unwritten Wing, but approximate. Some tension slowly began to leak from Claire’s chest.
Hero made an approving sound in his throat, soft and a little surprised. “Nicely done.”
“It . . . it will do.” Claire dusted her hands, though she hadn’t used them, and focused on Hero. “I suppose you’re here to blackmail me. You were going to run off and tell the courts what a horrible librarian I am, weren’t you?”
Hero pursed his lips and looked away. Claire thought she almost detected red in his cheeks. He reached a hand up to rub his cheek but stopped when his fingertips touched the scars. “I . . . was angry when I said that. Besides, I suppose that’s lost any bargaining power now. Now that you’re not . . .”
Claire shrugged. “They could always demote me to janitor.”
Hero chuckled and winced. Up close, Claire could see there were still feathers of bruised ink clinging to the skin around the scars. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
Claire snorted, turning her head to survey the room again. She was aware of Hero’s watching her for a reaction. “I suppose I wanted to see the place. And give Brevity some room to settle in.”
“You haven’t been exiled, you know. The Unwritten Wing needs plenty of help. One big, happy Library, after all.”
“One big, happy,” Claire repeated.
Hero rolled his eyes. “What are you going to call the place?”
“Call it? It’s the Arcane Wing.”
“That’s incredibly boring. Besides, I can’t see calling you the Arcanist. How about . . . the Vaults?”
Claire wrinkled her nose. “Too steampunk. Arcane lab?”
“Too nerdy. You do lock things up. How about the Cells?”
“What, so you can keep calling me warden? No, thanks.” Claire’s smile stilled as her eyes landed on the empty cages at the back. Her chest felt hollow. “Maybe a place like this shouldn’t have a name.”
“Oh, come, now.” Hero made a sharp noise. “I won’t have you sulking down here by yourself. You’re no fun when you brood.”
“I’m no longer here for your amusement. Not your librarian now, remember?”
“True. You’re not the warden anymore.” Hero considered. “I suppose I’ll just have to run away again. Brevity won’t have time to miss me for a while.”
That was bait that Claire was in no mood to ignore. She whipped her head back around and stabbed a finger at Hero’s chest. “You absolutely will not. Brevity will have a hard enough ti—”
“Peace,” Hero interrupted, and slid his gaze lazily around her face before coming to a conclusion. “How about a truce? You stick around, I’ll stick around.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Is it?” Hero mused. “I thought that’s what friends did.”
Claire pressed her lips together, silenced by that. Artifacts gleamed underneath their new, cozy lights. Gems winked with dark eyes, all turned toward their new keeper. The force of the gaze felt heavy on Claire’s shoulders, harsh but not hostile. The wing listened. The wing watched.
Hero broke the spell after a moment, clicking his tongue. He squeezed her arm.