Page 16 of On Edge

God, I’m losing it.

I pick up a scone, which looks innocent enough. And as soon as I swallow one bite, a wave of hunger hits, and I end up devouring it in one go. Pretty soon, I’m piling my plate high with bread, salad, and cheese quiche, avoiding any meat.Thankfully, there’s no one around to see me stuffing my face.

Severin doesn’t turn up for lunch, for which I’m grateful.

Lunch is peaceful. Even if, outside the leaded windows, the rain is lashing against the remaining tower. I really want to go up there, but climbing up it is probably very dangerous when wet. Tomorrow, maybe?

Halfway through, Mrs. Oakley hands me a sweater that looks too big to be hers. I don’t dare put it on.

Afterwards, I make my way to the library. It’s the only inviting space I’ve found in this vast mansion. Books have always made me feel at home, though no one in my family ever understood why. When our parents had parties, Nell liked to spy from the staircase, dangling her legs between the bannisters. I’d hide with a book.

Funny how I’m the spy now.

Inside the library, the hearth is dead. But the books are alive. Floor-to-ceiling shelves crowd every wall. A beautifully worn leather sofa faces a coffee table and an oxblood leather armchair. The armchair has an open book splayed face-down on top of its dipped seat, like someone was reading and meant to come back.

Placing the sweater on the chair,I walk slowly around the room, feeling myself thaw in the intimacy of the shelves, devouring titles and breathing in the scent of old paper and leather.

I’m tempted to read one.

Books never lie,Nell whispers.

I’m inclined to agree. But I don’t take one from the shelf. I don’t even trail my fingers over the spines.

If I touch a book, I’ll open it.

And if I open it, I’ll read it.

And then I’ll be lost for hours.

I have to force myself to ignore the books, scanning the room for things that stick out instead. I’m rewarded when my gaze snags on a bookshelf at the far end, slightly off kilter from the rest.

Getting closer, there’s a gap. I push it and it opens. Inside is another room, tucked behind the shelves. A warm lamp glows, illuminating a desk cluttered with messy stacks of paper and the filing cabinet behind it.

A thrill surges in my veins.

Oh my God, it’s a secret room…an office hidden behind a bookcase.

I love things like this, where you have to tilt a book to open it properly. Looking around for a tilted book, I catch myself grinning like an idiot, until it dawns on me whose horrid office this probably is.

Troy Severin’s.

But why is the door open? Does he know it’s unlocked? Did he leave it that way on purpose? Is it a trap?

Nervously, I glance back into the library, toward the entrance. No one has come running in. Not yet, anyway. I should go, leave the room with the door cracked just as I found it, before someone comes. But I hesitate on the threshold.

Severin isn’t here; no one is.

I might never get this chance again. A quick look won’t hurt, right? It’s what I’m here to do. What kind of spy would I be if I ran away now? Still, my chest tightens at the thought of him catching me in his private space.

Don’t be such a baby,Nell whispers.He’s not even here.

She’s right. I hate her sometimes.

Breathing slowly and steadily, I step inside. Despite the lamp, the room feels dark, and a shiver steals over my bare arms, raising goose flesh. The office door closes with a soft click that sounds deafening in the silence. I suddenly think to check I haven’t accidentally locked myself in and quickly try the handle from the inside.

It opens.

My breath leaves my body in a whoosh.