Jemma puts down her fork. “Sebastian, you don’t have to.”

But he straightens up. “That’s my fault,” he says. “My talent is memory stealing. They don’t remember because sometimes the Lady had me take their memories. Other times, they begged me to help them forget the things they’d done.”

The librarians exchange a surprised glance. Rachel touches the page on her lap, and writing begins to appear upon it. With a start, I realize she’s a book binder. Someone who can bind words to a page with their magic. From what I’ve heard, many of the old histories were written that way.

“What about you, Simone?” asks the younger librarian. “What is your talent?”

I stare at the food on my plate as if I’m willing it to disappear, just to have something to keep me grounded in this conversation.

I have to stay focused and ask them for help. I can’t let my mind wander off like it usually does.

“Mind reading.”

Suddenly, they seem much more interested in me.

Now that is a useful talent, Rachel thinks.

My voice feels strange and gritty in my throat. I don’t like the tenor of these people’s thoughts. But one peek in Sebastian’s direction keeps me rooted in my seat. His mind is full of infectious hope and possibility.

“I don’t recall a lot about the times the Lady used me. But I know it was horrible.”

Disappointment seeps across the table. “You don’t recall anything interesting?” Ida asks.

I shrug, letting my fingers twist together into odd shapes in my lap. The awkward urge to laugh bubbles in my throat, but I choke it down.

Sebastian grabs my hand under the table. His eye twitches. It does that sometimes. The effects of lingering magic. The people who freed us have yet to find a talent that can fix it. Sometimes it feels like we’re little more than hollow, broken dolls.

“Did you ever try to escape?” Ida’s eyes have taken on a keen shine that I’m not sure I like. I wonder if they even could…

I shake my head, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “No, we were bespelled. She used the same spell on the parents of children she stole to prevent them from trying to rescue them.”

The librarians’ frustration balloons. They are almost done with their meal. I’m running out of time.

“Can you help me?” I blurt out, startling them.

“What do you mean?” Rachel says.

“I’m trying to find my family.” I squeeze Sebastian’s hand for encouragement. “We thought you might have a record of their village in your archives.”

“What do you know about this village?” Ida asks.

“Only the name—Wren. It should be in Parilla. But no one has ever heard of it.”

“It doesn’t ring any bells,” Ida muses. “We’d have to assign one of our librarians to pore over the archives, and we just don’t have anyone to spare at the moment. All our librarians are currently assigned to other, more pressing tasks.” She sits up straighter and folds her hands in her lap. “Unless, of course, there was some consideration to make this matter more urgent.”