It was too early for bed, and watching TV alone in my room didn’t appeal to me for once. I opened my door, wondering if any of the other trainees were hanging out downstairs. Seeking out company was a new experience for me, but I’d never really felt lonely before I came here. I’d enjoyed having dinner with the others tonight, instead of eating alone like I normally did. For the first time since I arrived, it felt like I’d connected with other people. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that until today.
The common rooms were empty except for a warrior I didn’t know watching an old black-and-white movie in one of them. I stood in the main hall and debated where to go. The north wing and west wing housed mostly living quarters like my own, so there was nothing to see there. The first floor of the west wing was training rooms and I’d seen more than enough of them already. The south wing held the offices, meeting rooms, security, and the living quarters for Lord Tristan, some of the senior warriors, and important visitors. That left the east wing. During my tour, Claire had pointed out the medical ward on the first floor. She’d also told me there was a sick warrior recuperating in the wing. I stayed away from the first floor so I didn’t disturb him, and I was very quiet when I took the stairs to the second floor.
Strolling down the long second-floor hallway, I ran a hand lightly along the dark paneling, struck for the hundredth time by the grandeur of my new home. The walls on this floor were hung with beautiful oil paintings and ornate wall sconces that had been converted from gas to electric. I had not asked anyone how old the building was, but I suspected it was well over a hundred years old. The Mohiri lived for centuries, so it was no surprise for them to hold onto their homes for a long time. What was it like to live that long and to witness the coming of electricity, automobiles, and the age of technology? What wonders and changes in the world would I live to see over my own lifetime?
At the end of the hallway, light spilled from a room with the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open and I could barely contain my excitement at the sight of the shelves of books lining the walls from floor to ceiling. There was a large library off the main hall, but it didn’t hold a candle to this room. This one looked like something out of an English manor with dark walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a large fireplace at one end of the room. Two high-backed chairs faced the fire that crackled in the hearth, and a lamp on the small table between the chairs cast a soft glow over the room. It looked like someone had just stepped out of the room, and I hesitated, worried they would mind my intrusion. I turned to leave, but one more look at all those books changed my mind.
The only problem with so many books was choosing one. I liked a lot of the classics, but I had tons of them in the boxes of books that had come with me from home. I inhaled the smell of old paper, and a smile spread across my face. I had a feeling I was going to be spending a lot of time here, and I couldn’t help but think that my dad would have loved this room, too.
I scanned the titles to see what treasures the little library held. Automatically, my eyes searched for the Bs because something told me there had to be some Brontë on these shelves. I found what I was looking for high above my head, and I had to roll the squeaky wooden ladder over so I could reach the books. Reverently, I pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre and fingered the cloth-covered spine. My copy was a dog-eared paperback that was falling apart from too many readings. I opened the cover to the first page and felt my eyes bug out. A first edition Jane Eyre in perfect condition!
I shouldn’t be touching these. Regretfully, I reached up to slide the book back into its place on the shelf. My old copy would do just fine. I’d be too nervous about damaging the rare book to enjoy it.
The thought had barely passed through my mind when my hold on the ladder slipped. I let out a loud gasp as I lost my grip on the precious tome and it fell to the floor with a thud. I grabbed the ladder again, just in time to keep from falling. Climbing down, I picked up the book, relieved to see no damage to the cover.
“If you are quite finished making a racket, I’d like to get back to my book now,” said a voice in clipped English from behind one of the chairs.
Startled, I almost dropped the book again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“Well, now you do. There is a perfectly nice library downstairs where you can bother someone else.”
I bristled at his rudeness. I might have disturbed him, but that was no reason to be nasty. I’d dealt with too many bullies in my lifetime to let a faceless person push me around. “Thank you for pointing that out, but I am perfectly content here.” I moved toward the chairs near the fireplace, fully intending to make myself at home.