A giant of a man fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame on either side. He''s easily twice the size of any man I''ve ever seen, with pointed ears that stretch back into his salt-and-pepper hair. Despite the gray streaks, his face is unwrinkled, but his eyes—swirling from blue to black and back again—hold a wisdom that speaks of countless years.


    "You''re late," he bellows, his voice reverberating through the courtyard like a clap of thunder.


    His larger-than-life presence fills the courtyard, very different from the Fae guards who led us here.


    Marcus and Vanessa move to step between us, their stances protective, but the strange man roars at them. "Stand back, you flea-ridden mutts! Let me see my pupil!"


    There''s an excitement in his tone that belies the aggressive volume of his words, leaving me more confused than frightened. Selene slinks forward, her ears pressed back against her skull as she sniffs at the air to scent the new arrival.


    "Your pupil?" I ask, my voice sounding small and uncertain even to my own ears. "Are you the one Sister Miriam told me about?"


    The man throws his head back and laughs, the sound booming like a cannon shot. "Who am I? I''m the one who''s graciously allowed you entry into the Fae Ward, girl. The one who''s going to teach you to control that wild magic of yours before it consumes you whole."


    All the Fae to this point have been elegant, their movements natural and flowing. Even the intimidating guards move with a grace that seems to come from deep within.


    This man, this teacher of mine, is like a bear, with wide movements and a lumbering gait. Even so, his excitement shines through, making his sinister-seeming phone calls feel innocuous now in the light of his energy.


    "You may call me Magister Orion," he says, his voice dropping to a more conversational volume. "And you, Ava Grey, have a great deal to learn. It took you too long to get here."


    "A more friendly phone call might have helped." Trying to keep my words firm and even, I hold out my hand in greeting. "Hello, Magister Orion."


    His massive head tilts, his eyes glittering down at me in the brightest shade of blue I''ve ever seen. "Was I not friendly? I warned you about your friend, and you interrogated me as if I were her captor."@@@@


    It reconstructs his words, but Sister Miriam says it makes him sound sinister. Did it have the same effect on you?"


    The curious look on her face is almost rabid, her eyes eager and glistening.


    "It did," I confirm, watching her over-enthusiastic nod with some confusion. It takes a second for her words to dawn in my overwhelmed mind. "This device of yours is why none of the shifters could understand him?"


    Tinker''s eyes light up, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Precisely! Isn''t it just brilliant? The Fae Ward functions with quite a bit magitech—ah, magical technology—but it doesn''t always work the way we intend. Human innovation is fascinating, but doesn''t seem to mesh well with magic."


    A small notepad appears out of thin air, and she scrawls something on it. The letters are similar to the runes I saw within the book Mrs. Elkins brought me, and I curse myself silently for not bringing it here. I''m sure they would have been able to tell me more about it.


    "Sinister. Hmm. Indeed. I thought the dhampir was being a bit overblown, but I suppose it can''t be helped. The device was supposed to go for austere and majestic."


    Tinker''s words come out in the absent-minded fashion of someone talking to themselves, and I''m not sure if I''m supposed to respond.


    Before I can figure it out, we step into the cottage, and the words die on my tongue. Beside me, Marcus and Vanessa halt abruptly, their eyes widening in shock.


    Despite the unassuming exterior, the inside of the cottage is a true marvel. A spiral staircase dominates the center of the room, stretching up into darkness far above our heads.


    My jaw drops as I take in the sight before me. Books—countless books—line the walls from floor to ceiling. Some float lazily through the air, as if guided by an invisible hand. There''s the scent of ink and paper, a coming-home sort of cozy scent that fills my nostrils, and there''s a huge part of me that wants to live here forever.


    Don''t start thinking like that, Ava, Selene warns. The Fae don''t give back what come willingly into their fold.


    Her warning is like a bucket of ice water on my face, and I stare at the heaven within with a little more wariness after that.


    Magister Orion stands tall amidst the stacks, his chest puffed out with pride. "Impressive, isn''t it?" he booms, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. "Centuries of knowledge, all at our fingertips."