Elisabeth exited the office a minute later, she wondered what kinds of gatherings robed officials were holding in dusty rooms, discussing the revelation that the Great Libraries had been created to summon the Archon. Soon, the news would tear the Collegium apart. And oddly enough, she thought that might be a good thing. It was about time that the old gears got ripped out and replaced with something new.
She and Katrien turned a corner. Deep in her thoughts, Elisabeth almost collided with a boy wearing the robes of a junior librarian.
“Hullo,” he said, brightening at the sight of them. He turned from Elisabeth to Katrien. “Are you Katrien Quillworthy? My name’s Parsifal. I’m the one who’s supposed to show you to your room, and then give you a tour of the library.” He swiveled back to Elisabeth, beaming. “And you must be Elisabeth Scrivener.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, sticking out her hand.
He gave it a conspiratorial shake. He also, possibly, attempted to wink—either that, or a piece of dust had flown past his spectacles and gotten in his eye. She couldn’t tell which.
It had been a relief to discover that he was still alive. Contrary to her expectations, few librarians had perished during the summoning. When Ashcroft arrived with an army of demons to begin his ritual, they had barricaded themselves here in the offices of the Northeast Wing. Surprisingly, after the atrium collapsed, Parsifal himself had borrowed an axe from the armory to break them out.
Elisabeth prepared herself to walk on alone. Before they went their separate ways, Katrien caught her arm. “How are you doing—truly?” she whispered under her breath.
Elisabeth attempted a smile. “I’m all right.”
Katrien’s expression grew serious. “I know you cared about him. He meant a lot to you.”
She nodded, her throat tight. “It’s been . . . difficult. But things are getting better.” Hoping she wasn’t changing the topic too obviously, she glanced at Parsifal. “You’ll like Parsifal. He’s kind. Smart. And—er, gullible.”
“Oh, perfect,” Katrien said.
“Don’t get him into too much trouble.” She had a strong feeling that Parsifal was going to replace Stefan as Katrien’s unwitting collaborator.
She grinned. “I will, but I’ll get him out of it afterward. I promise.”
Elisabeth spirits lifted as she crossed the atrium. The sound of workmen hammering echoed throughout the space, nearly drowning out the friendly rustling of pages. The sorcerers were long finished by now, but she had been there to watch them work as they raised the shattered balconies, mended pillars, made the bookshelves whole again, like a marvel at the dawning of the world. The atrium wasn’t quite as it once was; half the shelves stood empty, and the map in the tiles hadn’t been replaced. But beams of sapphire light still filtered through the newly repaired dome, and the air still smelled of parchment dust and magic. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt a stirring, a whisper—a ghost of the consciousness that had woken to rouse the library to battle, now lapsed into a long and peaceful slumber.
When she slipped past a group of librarians out the front doors, the chill in the air startled her. It was so warm inside, she had briefly forgotten that it was already winter.
A tall, slim shadow was leaning against one of the statues flanking the entry. As she made her way down the steps, the shadow detached, limping into the light with the help of a cane. Her heart leaped. After spending all those hours trapped in the wreckage, uncertain of Nathaniel’s fate, she still experienced a moment of joy every time she saw him.
The emerald cloak was a thing of the past. In its place, he wore a dark overcoat with its collar turned up against the cold. It looked especially striking against his pale, angular features, with the breeze tousling his pitch-black hair; by now, she had gotten used to the way it looked without the silver streak. Another difference was the cane, which never left his side. As it turned out, there were some wounds even his household wards couldn’t heal, especially after spending hours awaiting rescue in a library’s rubble.
It was a miracle that they had survived. Hundreds of tons of stone and glass, and it had happened to fall in such a way that both of them had been spared. A miracle, people said, but Elisabeth knew the truth. It had been the library’s doing, watching out for them until the very end.
“You’re smiling,” he observed, his gray eyes sparkling.