Page 52

Chapter Fifty-Two

“ W e need to head to the library. The archival area where the quill will be stored before going on display is in there.”

I followed Callan down a swirling staircase that wound inside the tree we’d just reached. There were exits at different levels, leading to treehouses and platforms throughout the conservatory.

As much as my heart was racing from what had just happened between us, I hadn’t forgotten what Yasmin had said about the conservatory libraries potentially having books on the Renaissance botanists.

While I knew that wasn’t a priority while we were here, if I had an opportunity to peek, I was sure as sunflowers going to take it.

When we reached the forest floor, there were wooden signs pointing toward a variety of research rooms including signs for Transgenic Breeding Lab, Bonsai Garden, and Agronomy. The one labeled Library was pointing north. Callan headed straight for it, never glancing at the sign.

Being on the ground floor of the tree conservatory was strange.

There were layers of treehouses and trails above us, so in some ways it felt like there was a roof over our heads, but in many ways, it also felt like we were outside, with smooth dirt and moss making up the floor.

Mushrooms were scattered across the ground like gumdrops, coalescing around the bases of the trees.

Callan came to a halt, and I looked around for the entrance to the library. It was like we were in any part of the forest, except the trees around us were massive and each was adorned with an antique-looking brass lantern about eight feet up their thick trunks.

Callan seemed to read my mind. “You’re looking at it. Each tree is a different section of the library. They’re hollowed inside like the tree at the Evergreen Academy library. The archival area is in a tree hollow toward the back.”

We wended our way through the library, where botanists were flitting in and out of tree hollows.

Thankfully, none of them gave Callan or me a second glance.

While this place was enormous and there were likely hundreds of people here, Patricia being on a first name basis with him at the entrance hadn’t boded well for us going incognito.

But Callan had previously assured me that he knew very few of the workers here.

His parents mostly hobnobbed with the higher-ups, who came in for special occasions or were locked away in high-level meetings.

“I wish I had more time to look around the library,” I said wistfully.

“Actually, I think that may be in the cards for you today, local.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“The quill isn’t going to be sitting there defenseless.

I need to test it and its container for any protective charms that are surrounding it and then unravel them before swapping it out.

It shouldn’t be too bad. It’ll be basic tree defense mechanisms. Nothing as advanced as what you’ve been working with. ”

I suppressed a smile. While my field studies assignment was supposed to be top secret, it didn’t surprise me that Callan had guessed at least part of what I was doing there .

“Okay, so you’ll do that while I look around and then come and get me?”

“Yep, if I haven’t found you in thirty minutes, come back here.”

He made it sound so simple, and I nodded again, trusting his plan despite my anxiousness. We arrived in front of a tree that was engraved Archives.

“Here it is.” He scanned the area around the tree. “No sign of scouting vines. Okay, I’m going in. See you in thirty minutes. Less, if my magic’s any good.”

“Your magic’s always good. Callan”—I reached out and took his hand, giving it a little squeeze—“good luck.”

His palm pressed warmth into mine in return, and I practically floated at the emotion that I somehow felt in it.

“Thanks, local. Try not to get too lost in the library hollows.”

My heart gave a soft flutter as he flashed me a gorgeous, mischievous smile before pulling away. I touched a hand to my lips, still imagining the feeling of his there. Stay focused, Briar .

I watched as he stepped up to the opening of the archival tree, posture and steps casual and confident as always.

Then I turned my attention to the nearest available library hollow.

The word magically carved into the bark was Dendrology.

I moved past it and scanned the titles on the other hollows until I saw one labeled Historical Texts - Unsorted .

On an impulse, I pulled open the arched door and stepped inside.

The space was small, and rounded bookshelves formed a circle lining the entire interior, stopping only to break for the doorway. I let my hands run along the shelves. The old but well-preserved bindings were reminiscent of older texts I had seen and studied at Evergreen Academy.

When I reached a section of texts with worn brown bindings, I knelt to examine them. After skimming over a few of the faded titles, my fingers began to warm as if I were getting ready to perform magic. I frowned.

My magic was blocked in here, and I didn’t see any plants in the room to connect with anyway, except for the tree I was in. My hands continued to tingle with warmth, increasing in strength until they landed on a book with a soft brown cover.

I slid the tome off the shelf, noting the yellowed edges and lack of anything on the fabric cover before I carefully flipped it open.

I turned to the front interior page, looking for an author, but there wasn’t one.

The text on the first few pages was extremely faded, so it was possible any previous authorship denoted there was lost to time.

My hands tingled warmly again, and adrenaline flooded me. I had only felt this sensation once before, and it had been when I held the botanical journals of Leonardo da Vinci at Evergreen Academy.

I crouched there and skimmed the pages, trying to make out the faded drawings. There were many sections where the ink markings were impossible to discern.

While I was lost in exploring the book on the floor of the library hollow, half an hour slipped away in the blink of an eye.

At the whooshing sound of someone opening the door, I sat up, expecting to see Callan.

But another magical botanist entered the room and immediately went to work scanning one of the shelves, paying no attention to me.

With a prick of concern, I knew it was time that I go check on Callan.

I looked around for some kind of system to borrow the book, but didn’t see one.

Besides, Callan had gone to some lengths to make it seem like we had never been here.

I didn’t need to go blowing our cover by putting my name to a library slip.

After a moment’s ethical deliberation and a check over my shoulder that the other magical botanist was still occupied, I tucked the book into my backpack. I would return it eventually.

For a moment, I wondered if there might be enchantments on the library books, protecting them from unauthorized movements. But the warmth distributed by the book when I held it made me hopeful that this book, at least, wouldn’t be subject to such enchantments.

I left the library hollow and headed straight toward the archival tree. There were a few botanists entering or exiting other tree hollows, with a short line queued outside one of them, but other than that, nothing had changed.

As I was about to turn the corner toward the archival tree, a strong breeze wrapped around me and whisked me between two nearby sequoias.

I let out a gasp as I tried to tug my arms free but found them trapped to my sides. Panic swelled in my chest until a comforting caress touched the back of my neck. My breathing relaxed. I’d felt that touch before.

Callan .

Callan was doing this.

But why? Before I could formulate any theories, I heard a voice.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise. Long time no see, brother.”