“Almost there,” Maeve says, a heady sort of anticipation trilling over her that I can’t help but feel too. I pull my talent back. I don’t want to be rude.

The closer we get to the village, the louder all the minds become. My hold on my magic is as tight as possible; otherwise, I could become overwhelmed quickly.

The village is small and quaint, and people smile at us as we make our way to the center where the shops are likely to be. The constant hum of thoughts buzzes around my head, but I breathe deeply and let it flow past me as best I can. Somewhere, someone is playing music on a stringed instrument, the notes dancing with those from a flute. I keep my thoughts focused on that as my feet skip along of their own accord after Maeve.

“Hold on, little one,” Maeve says, a firm hand on my shoulder. She stops at a shop entrance—a grocer’s—and I nearly dance right by. But she just smiles. “There will be plenty of time for dancing later, I promise.”

Maeve isn’t put off my outbursts of strangeness, which is a relief. We enter the grocer’s shop, and she quickly purchases some food. She even lets us each pick out a sweet from the cabinet on the counter.

“Where are you folks headed?” asks the grocer, a short old man wearing a blue apron.

“The Parillan Archives,” Maeve says. “It’s in the mountains just over the plains beyond your village, isn’t it?”

The grocer nods, then narrows his eyes at us. “It is. Though good luck getting in there. They’re serious folks and rather picky about who they let within their walls.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can convince them. We’re researching her family line.” She places her hands on my shoulders. “And I’m certain they will find it to be an intriguing mission.”

The grocer hands Maeve her change and shrugs. “Well, best of luck to you then.” He watches us as we leave, and I can’t help but glance back and take a quick peek at his thoughts.

Poor folks. I hope they don’t have their hearts too set on the library. I can’t imagine them succeeding…

I nearly trip over the step leaving the shop. He seems certain, but then again so does Maeve. She holds her hand out to me and helps me stay upright. I squeeze her fingers in thanks, and we move on.

I trust Maeve. She knows what she’s doing. And I’m sure she won’t lead us astray.

Chapter Nine

I wake the next morning determined. I’ve decided that I must be honest with Maeve: I have to tell her the truth about who I am and why I’m seeking the Parillan Archives. She’ll find out sooner or later. Once we get there and I have to explain exactly what information I’m searching for, I won’t be able to hide why. The longer I hold off, the more insulted she’ll probably be.