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“Oh, yes.” I grabbed for the book, which Rook raised above his head. “Top of my class. Of course, that was amongst all the other witless swamp dwellers.”

“Teach me.”

Angry refusal blossomed in my chest. I jumped and snatched the book. Before I could tell Rook to ‘get stuffed’, my indignation gave way to understanding.

Rook couldn’t read.

That’s why he didn’t come in here.

“Yes,” Rook said, confirming my suspicion.

“Another item on my vast list of shortcomings, I suppose.” If I wasn’t trying my best to feign kindness, I might have asked Rook whether he listed illiteracy above or below murder.

Walking through the library, Rook glared at the endless tomes.

“They sit upon the shelves and, oh, how they mock me!”

When I looked at the towering rows of books, I saw freedom. In books, my mind was quiet, and I could escape, even if only for a short while. To Rook, they were useless. What torture it must have been to sit amongst so many books for decades, unable to read a single sentence.

Perhaps I could use that to my advantage.

I slid the book back. “I’ll teach you to read,” I said, catching Rook’s attention, “ if you help me get home.”

The request hardly left my mouth before Rook shook his head. “It’s too dangerous; the wolves will rip you to shreds.”

Heat flared up my neck and I shouted, “I don’t care!” Rook straightened, and I continued, more evenly, “If you promise to help me get home, I’ll teach you to read.”

The outburst betrayed me, and Rook crossed his arms. “What awaits you there?”

I reached out, brushing dust from a shelf.

“My brother… He has a sweating sickness,” I lied.

My eyes stung, and I refused to meet Rook’s gaze, refused to show him any further weakness.

“He doesn’t have much time; I must get back to him.

” When Rook didn’t answer, I glanced back.

The power of the bargain belonged to him.

If I refused to help Rook read, not much would change.

But if he refused to help me escape, Lysander would die.

Rook stroked his chin, pondering the deal.

Fear choked me. Surely, Rook would refuse.

Rook touched the books, mumbling, “I reckon there might be a cure for my affliction amongst these pages, and I’d never know it, trapped here by my own ignorance.”

Excruciating seconds ticked by.

Rook nodded to himself.

Slowly, but deliberately, Rook crossed the library.

With each step, the anger that distorted his features slipped away.

By the time Rook reached me, compassion had softened the hard lines along his face.

Offering me a hand, he whispered, “Teach me to read, and I swear, when I can change again, I’ll help you escape.

” I pondered the deal. Was there a loophole I hadn’t considered?

Should I specify that I must be alive when I got home?

Rook stooped, snapping me out of indecision.

“You will see your brother again,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Maybe there was a shred of humanity left in the beast after all?

I reached for Rook’s hand like one might pull a kettle from the fire, hesitant and wary of scorching.

We shook, and when it came time to part, Rook’s grasp remained.

I noticed a silver bracelet, wrought and twisted like thorns, wrapping his wrist. In all the stress of saving his life, I hadn’t noticed it.

It reminded me of the iron-cuffs I’d seen criminals placed in.

The cuff was hideous, though his hand was not.

It was muscular and lean, bearing all the benefits of having spent many years wielding an axe.

Rook cleared his throat.

Mortified, I snatched my hand away.

“Come,” Rook said. “Teach me.”

“Ask me nicely.”

Rook paused, turning back to me. One eyebrow raised, silently asking, ‘Pardon me?’

“You heard me.” I crossed my arms. “Surely, you possessed some manners before you stumbled in here. If you want to be taught, you’ll treat me with the same respect as any teacher.”

Rook’s eye twitched.

Deal’s off.

At Rook’s side, his fist clenched.

He’s going to change and eat you. He’ll get blood all over these lovely books. Glancing at the nearest shelf, I stepped away.

Rook inhaled and I cringed.

This is it.

“I would be forever indebted to you,” Rook began, “if you might teach me to read.”

“That’s a statement,” I said, pushing my luck. “Not a question.”

Rook’s lips parted. Whether the look on his face was bewilderment or admiration, I didn’t know. “Liliwen,” Rook said, his teeth barely opening to let my name out. “Will you please teach me to read?”

“Of course. Thank you for asking!”

While some part of me toyed with the idea of having him call me Master , like the schoolchildren used to call Mother—Master Liliwen had quite the ring to it—I figured I’d better not push my luck again.

I slipped a book from the shelf and motioned for Rook to sit.

Rook turned and headed to a small writing desk beside the fireplace.

I had to admit, I felt some relief. Rook hadn’t faltered, had looked me in the eye and promised I would see Lysander again.

It might be foolish, but I believed him.

I took the seat opposite Rook, setting the book between us. I just had to do this one thing. Teach Rook to read. Gain my freedom. That didn’t sound so bad. I mean, how hard could it be to teach someone to read?