The librarian, Harper, sat at his desk as usual, flipping through a cookbook. He always said he was trying to learn how to cook to please his wife, but I’d never been told if it was working or not. He eyed me with a smile as I came in, but he worked for the Asylum and would tell on me as quickly as any of the other workers, no matter our friendship.
“Good morning, Violet,” he said as I walked past him. “Going for the books about dogs again?” I gave him a half-hearted chuckle and kept walking until I was further inside the library. The shelves were all at waist height so we couldn’t hide behind them and do something we’d get in trouble for. That also meant that Harper could see what section I was in, and under the strict orders of my doctor, I wasn’t allowed to read fiction books. I’d get lost in the fantasy, and what with me always making up things like magic is real and the walls make noise, indulging those fantasies wasn’t healthy, or so said my doctor at least.
That meant the only thing I could read was non-fiction. Textbooks, manuals, how to fold paper to look pretty, how to sew, and everything you ever wanted to know about animals. Giving Harper a very casual glance, he was safely nose-deep in ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking’, so I grabbed the giant ‘Encyclopedia of the Dog’ book and sat down at the end of the shelf, in the small spot that Harper couldn’t see. Right in front of my feet was some of the fiction section, old books about elves and dragons. I peeked around the shelf one last time before reaching for the book I’d been reading, ‘Dragonflight’ by Anne McCaffrey.
My fingers ran over the bumps and creases on the aged cover. I’d been waiting a week to read the next chapter, I was practically chomping at the bit for more. I opened the dog encyclopedia across my lap and placed the dragon book on top of it. The advantage of the squeaky floor here was I’d be able to hear anyone coming so I could quickly flip the encyclopedia pages to hide the fiction book and pretend I actually cared about how Dutch Sheepdogs have a life expectancy of fifteen years.
Enough workup, it was time to read more about Lessa. Last time I’d read, she was prepping for her dragon’s mating flight. I flipped the book open to my earmark and the chapter was about sending the new dragon hatchlings somewhere else so they could grow up. What? When had her dragon laid the eggs? Had I skipped too far? That was definitely where I’d last earmarked the page.
Damn it. Why did this keep happening to me? I kept losing time. I never knew what I’d remember or what I’d forget. Maybe… I recalled Olivander’s face in my doorway. He’d displayed more emotion than a stranger should’ve had. I stood up, put the dog book back, and slid ‘Dragonflight’ into my back waistband. It was a risk, but I hoped my reputation of not stealing would mean Harper wouldn’t search me. My bare feet made no noise on the floor, and he didn’t look up as I left the room, too absorbed in French cooking.
Adrenaline running through my system, I scurried down the halls and tried to swallow down my fear that Harper would follow me, find the book, and report me to my doctor. I knew exactly what she’d do if she thought I was fantasizing again, and I didn’t want that to happen.
The adrenaline was souring into pure fear and I could feel sweat pooling on my skin as I searched for Olivander. Something inside me needed to see him, an instinct I couldn’t explain. He wasn’t in the cafeteria, the lounge, or the hallways. I didn’t know his room number, and just as I was starting to panic about asking a worker for it, I pressed my face against the atrium glass and saw someone out there. I hurried to the door, yanked it open, and stepped into the enclosed space full of dead plants and depressing trees.
It was definitely Olivander standing there, his hands shoved into the waistband of his Asylum issued pants, and he turned when he saw me. I ran to him, the last few steps before I got to him dislodging the book from my pants, and it fell to the brush covered ground as I threw my arms around Olivander’s neck.
“Letty,” he whispered, holding me as closely as he could, and I tightened my arms around him in response. He was warm against my cold body. Warm, and safe. I stroked his long blonde hair, his ponytail coming undone under my fingers.
“I think I’ve forgotten a few things,” I said against his shoulder. He choked out a laugh and sunk his fingers into my long hair. I pulled away, regretting it instantly, and stepped back to retrieve the book where it lay in a pile of dead leaves. I brought it up and showed it to him. “I was reading this, and there are parts I don’t remember now. It made me wonder.” He met my eyes over the paperback, the heat from them enough to warm my freezing toes. “What else did they make me forget?”
As an answer, he closed the distance between us, took my cheeks between his two warm hands, and he kissed me, his lips as smooth as velvet, dancing over mine and drawing a groan from both of our throats. He rested our foreheads together, breath ragged, stroking my face with his fingers.
“Everything, Letty,” he answered. “They took everything.”
Olivander and I ended up back in my room, and I shut the door as he sat down on my bed, looking it over and straightening the pillow a bit.
“Have we…” I started, gulping and looking away as he stared back at me. Could he see
