When you think of a house library, you picture bookshelves full of books, or an entire wall, tops. But this wasn't an ordinary house, and knowing already that "ordinary" couldn't describe Tristan's life in any way, the library shouldn't have been a surprise to my eyes.

Iron chandeliers hung from an arched ceiling, casting a dim golden light on towering walls of books. Buttoned leather couches and upholstered chairs (probably more expensive than my entire house) sat at the center of ...