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“It’s for the autumn equinox next week. We thought you could wear it in your hair, or maybe around your waist.”

Lore smiled. That was sweet of them. She was sure they didn’t know that she had been forbidden from attending. “This is beautiful. Did you make it yourself?”

“I made it,” Tarun announced, puffing his chest out in pride, before remembering, “Well, Libb helped. A bit.”

Libb scowled, refusing to be outdone. “Tarun didn’t even know how to slice the apples! His mom babies him. She still won’t let him use a sharp knife.” The younger boy declared, “I cut every single one myself and dried them out over our hearth.”

Now that Lore looked a little closer she could see that the apples were indeed cut by a child—they were uneven and some were hacked to bits.

Tarun stomped his foot, forgetting that he was trying to appear more mature than he was. “It’s not my fault that my mom is so overprotective! I’ve told her time and again...”

Lore eyed Asher from where he stood behind the boys, his laughter barely suppressed.

“Boys, boys! It’s lovely. You did a wonderful job, and I can’t tell you how much this kindness means to me. I shall treasure it.” She brought it to her nose and inhaled the smell of autumn before draping it over her hair and tying the garland in a bow at the base of her neck.

“How do I look?”

“Like a princess,” Libb pronounced with all the surety of a little boy.

“Beautiful,” Tarun said, suddenly the shy one, as his cheeks turned a darling shade of pink.

At that, Asher had to cover his bark of laughter with a cough so as not to hurt the boys’ feelings.

“Okay, that’s enough. Run along now and check back in an hour or so to see if this princess needs anything.” The boys did as Asher said, racing back the way they had just come, arguing over who had done more in the creation of their gift.

“I think you have yourself two admirers, Mouse.”

“It’s nice that someone in this gods forsaken place appreciates what I have to offer.” Lore tossed her hair back and checked her nails in an exaggerated fashion before sighing. “I’ve wasted enough of the morning. You heard the steward; I need to increase my pace in finding a collection of books that nobody knows what they’re called, how many there are, or even what they look like.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need all the luck I can get.”

Lore closed the door behind her and looked around. The vastness of the library was daunting again. How was she to compile every book on the stars for the steward?

One book at a time, she supposed.

Lore spoke out loud in a gruff, disdainful way, mimicking Steward Vinelake’s voice, “Astronomy.” The word rang through the library, echoing back to her.

And then she changed her tone, walking past the atrium and heading toward the west end of the library. “Astronomy,” she said, calling back to Asher’s kind intonation.

Then she said it a third time, as the tips of her fingers brushed across the stone edge of a shelf. “A. stron. o. my,” she sounded the word out joyfully. To have a distinctive descriptor for what she loved to do was quite wondrous.

Suddenly, her head cocked to the side. A pulsing sound was coming from somewhere.Odd.

She walked ahead, gingerly, her heartbeat racing. The sound was getting louder the farther she walked to the west. She investigated further until she figured out the source. It was coming from the end of a bookshelf, toward the far wall. She would have to enter the stacks now if she wanted to locate the exact source of the sound.

She hesitated for a moment before taking a halting step into the rows of books. This was an area she had yet to sort through. Hardly any of the books had fallen from the shelves, and at a glance they all seemed relatively organized. She’d been saving this spot as a little treat for a later date when she would need to spend the day cataloguing but might not be in the mood to do any heavy lifting.

Curious, Lore moved farther in, the sound growing louder.

When she reached the source, she gasped.

A number of the books on either side of her had begun toquiveras if, well, it didn’t make any sense, but it was as if they wereexcited.

She tilted her head again, honing in on a muffled sound emanating from a few of the individual books. Lore leaned in close to one, straining her ears, and focused on just one sound, trying to block out the others. After a moment the sound became clear, and she realized with a start that the book was calling to her, a tinny sound, repeating “astronomy,” again and again. The book was mimicking her own voice in a way, conveying perfectly that wondrous feeling she herself had imbued into the word.

“The Stargazers Companion,” Lore read one of the wiggling titles aloud. She read the title of the book next to it, which was vibrating as well: “TeneciaJobari’sCelestial Observations,” Lore said to the stacks. Another tome, this one higher up on the shelf, was jostling so hard it was about to wriggle itself right off the shelf and onto Lore’s face. She rose up on her tippy toes to take a closer look. This one didn’t have a title on its spine, but the picture of acircle with tapered points jutting from its edges made it perfectly clear what the contents of the book would pertain to.Stars.Lore had the feeling this one was begging to be opened by her.