Sarah Beth Durst

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

with love and raspberry jam

Only the elite, the crème de la crème of the scholars, were allowed to even view the spellbooks, as only the rarefied few were permitted, by imperial law, to use magic.

On wheels, it scooted between the shelves, and she felt a lurch in her stomach as they passed all the full shelves of beautiful, wonderful books. She snagged a few more favorites as they hurried past

Oak trees are struck by lightning more often than any other tree. Apples can
float because they are twenty-five percent air. You can count the number of cricket chirps per second to calculate the outside temperature.”

All of the city of Alyssium was riddled with canals. It was part of what made it one of the world’s most beautiful cities, the jewel of the empire

She thought wistfully of all she’d left—her old journals, her best quill set, a wooden carving in the shape of a mermaid that her parents had given her when she was a child. But Caz was right: better to save themselves. And the books.

We’ll come back when it’s safe, she thought. This is just temporary.

But she hadn’t emptied her cubicle in the library of her personal items. She thought wistfully of all she’d left—her old journals, her best quill set, a wooden carving in the shape of a mermaid that her parents had given her when she was a child. But Caz was right: better to save themselves. And the books

Behind them, the great city burned, with its people (both good and bad) and its history (both good and bad) and its books and its flowers. And she knew she wasn’t coming back

“He must use it to hack through the overgrowth,” Kiela said.

Caz shuddered. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”