Rowan had always believed books were meant to be read.
She never expected one to read her back.
Rowan had spent three years as the youngest archivist in the Arcane Athenaeum without ever breaking a single rule.
She was perfect for the role: quiet, meticulous, and painfully shy. At twenty-six, she still blushed when scholars complimented her handwriting. Her uniform was always crisp, high-collared white blouse, long charcoal skirt, sensible shoes, and wire-rimmed glasses that constantly slipped down her nose. While other archivists chased rumors of lost spells and hidden power, Rowan preferred the comfort of cataloging, dusting, and preserving the fragile silence between endless rows of books.
But the Athenaeum had secrets even she couldn’t resist.
Deep beneath the public halls, past t
