It was only a hypothesis, but it made an uncomfortable amount of sense. - Genevieve Cogman

Here and there people sat at desks, carefully turning the pages of manuscripts, or unrolling scrolls and making notes. It comforted her. This is a place built to store books, by people who wanted to preserve books, and used by people who want to read those books. I am not alone.

I honestly thought you'd be happier if you knew nothing about it for the rest of your life. Was I wrong?"
Irene slumped in her chair. "No, you weren't. Everyone's going to say that, aren't they? 'It was for your own good.'"
"Something you'll learn as you get older is that truth and reconciliation may be necessary for nations, but it isn't necessarily best for individuals.

The room on the other side was elegant and gracious, even in the moonlight that slanted in through the long rectangular windows. It breathed with the scent of old books and wax polish: the dark volumes that filled the shelves promised countless secrets, and Irene itched just to reach out and touch them.