ARYA

The first thing I felt was velvet. It was cool and smooth beneath my cheek. The fabric didn't belong to our bed. My eyes fluttered open to dim morning light pouring through high arched windows. Dust danced in lazy spirals in the air, and the faint scent of old books clung to my clothes.

I was in a library.

I blinked once. Then, twice.

My legs were curled beneath me on the chaise near the window, a soft blanket draped across my shoulders that I didn't remember taking. A ...