also to find answers. But all we came back with were more questions! Everyone talks about the books of the Library as some sacred thing. The books must be preserved. The books are immortal, the letter said, but why? None of the artifacts in the Arcane Wing are. We destroyed enough baubles fighting Andras to prove that. And why Hell? Why are we here, in this realm of all places?”
Claire felt lost in the torrent. It wasn’t just questions; it was the obvious agony of not knowing. Hero’s face echoed the blinding panic that had taken over her every moment since the ink had appeared. She couldn’t face it, so instead she looked down as she shook her head. “None of that has anything to do with this ink business—”
“It has everything to do with it.” Hero’s shoulders had wound up to his ears. “I can feel it. That ink is kin, Claire. Or as near to it as books get. You said yourself, you thought the ink had pulled back from hurting Rosia! I’m a character, as much as she is. I know it won’t reject me.”
“Like your own story did?”
Hero stopped, tight as a wound spring and trembling with a warning kind of tension. “Don’t.”
Once, Claire might have persisted. That Claire had hurt a lot of people. She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. But there’s no way, Hero. It’s too big a risk.”
“It’s the only risk that’s going to lead to answers. We need answers. We’re running out of time.” Certainty straightened Hero’s shoulders. “You can peer at that ink under a microscope all you want—and knowing you, you have. But you’re never going to understand it from the outside. Ink isn’t made for a bottle. It’s made for . . . me.”
“We don’t know that, Hero.”
“I do.” Hero took a small step. He hesitated only a moment before raising and placing his hands on Claire’s shoulders. “I can’t go back to my book. That’s all I know. And it’s going to slowly drive me mad not knowing if I ever will.”
A bramble of distress tangled in Claire’s throat. It felt like loss, and it felt like fear. “You’re really that determined to leave us? Leave the Library, I mean. What about Rami?”
Hero’s lip twitched as if he’d been stung. “Don’t you mean what about me, Claire?” He made a sucking sound with his teeth. “Jealous?”
A laugh, exhausted and inappropriate, bubbled past Claire’s messier emotions. Hero’s surprised blink only made her chuckle again, and feel infinitely tired. “No, not jealous, Hero. Selfishly sad, maybe. But not jealous. You heard me before. I can’t be to you what Rami is. Or what he could be if you allowed him.”
Hero looked caught between insult and vulnerability. His hands flinched back abruptly. “Ha, I don’t know what you’re even talking—”
“Yes, you do. And so does Rami. So be gentle with him.”
“I—” Hero stopped and studied the floor, the pale skin beneath his long lashes slowly turning as red as his cheeks. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what?”
Claire wavered, and Hero pressed on ahead. “This ink is the answer, Claire. I know it. You know it. Help me do this.”
Claire’s breath caught, then snagged on a question. “Why me?”
Hero blinked. “Why? Well, of course you, since you have possession of the ink in question—”
“Do the others know about your idea? Does Rami?”
Hero was not quick enough to hide the guilt that wrung across his features.
Claire nodded. “You rotten creature, with your talk of feelings earlier. Yet you have snuck down here precisely when you knew our overprotective guardian angel would be out.”
“Hardly! As if I care one whit what that tedious man thinks of me. I simply was trying to avoid what would surely be an exhausting explanation of my logic and having to endure the subsequent dramatic objection and . . .” Hero stopped his huffing, cheeks a little flushed. “You said it yourself: he’s overprotective.”
“Right. And you look to me to play your villain, again.”
“You’ve never been my villain, Claire.” Hero risked a look at her. “I’ve been yours. I don’t want to be. I’m—I’m trying to help. Help me get us answers.”
“Help.” Her chair creaked as Claire leaned back with the full weight of her skepticism. “And what do you think he’s going to do when he finds out you went behind his back and I helped you?”
“Nothing,” Hero said as if stating the obvious. “He worships you.”
“He . . .” Claire’s stomach did a small