The Spellshop

But I do know books—and that meant there was nothing she couldn’t know, eventually. That was a magic in and of itself.

Halfway down, the wind pulling at her hair, she felt unglued,
like a book whose pages had scattered on the floor. She couldn’t shake the sense that if she released the railing, she’d fly into the air like a bird … Which would be ridiculous, she told herself firmly

It was a perfect day: blue sky peeking between the trees, birds warbling to one another, a breeze from the sea that carried the fresh scent of salty air. Within the walls of the library, she’d forgotten the wonder of a summer breeze