Marple: The Body In The Library นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It was the Royal Library. “Oh, wow!” Mars forgot his companion entirely, darting inside like a moth drawn to flame. The library was a temple of knowledge, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, supported by pillars carved as towering papyrus stalks. Countless shelves, reaching towards the heavens, were crammed with scrolls stored in alabaster jars and leather-bound codices. The air was thick with the sacred scent of old paper, ink, and cedar. “So many books!” he awed, his fingers trailing over spines embossed with gold leaf. “I had my suspicions but you actually know how to read?” Keith questioned, watching him with an unreadable expression as Mars flitted from one section to another.

A worthy sacrifice. This wasn’t a room. It was her mother’s soul made solid. After the accident, when Marcella locked the villa’s main rooms and Papa vanished into grief, Amara would slip through the library’s hidden panel—a bookshelf that swung open with a push on Don Quixote’s spine. Mama’s voice would hum La Vie en Rose as they shelved books, the scent of lavender on her skin mixing with paper dust.

Like she’s peeling me open layer by layer, and I hate how easily it works. I told her to leave me alone because if she doesn’t… I don’t trust myself. At the same time I am questioning why fate keeps on bringing us together?? ~MARCELLA~ I don’t expect to see him there. That’s the worst part. The university library is supposed to be neutral ground. Quiet. Predictable. Safe. I push through the heavy glass doors, the familiar scent of books and polished wood wrapping around me like a blanket. The space is hushed, broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional cough.

It was no ordinary book and neither was it meant for ordinary people. ‘’I need to get something for myself’’ Mara says walking onto the shelf hidden at the far end of the room. It is composed of books from history to spell casting and some hybrid notifications. She was not interested in any of the books, not until the red cover book fell to the ground catching her attention. ‘’Ways to make it work’’ the title read. Mara had no idea of what the book was about; those words were all it had and the back was completely plain and painted red.

The place was like a mystical painting painted with vivid colors of herbs and flowers and plants, and healthy moss covered every inch of the dark marble flooring. Shutting my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. The suffused scent of old books, night flowers with a subtle hint of the scent of leaves and chlorophyll and medicinal herbs and plants. It felt subtly divine to be there. Zosha had disappeared in that place. I couldn’t blame her. For a few minutes, this library had extracted all my thoughts right off my mind as well. Lightly brushing the tip of my fingers against the books, I sauntered on the path Zosha had taken.

The dust in the air clearing and holey shit. The once calm atmosphere was now catastrophic our guests a mix of panic and lifeless body parts. A once extravagant dining table blown into millions of pieces, Blood, screams, fear. My eyes landing on a lifeless body pinned to the floor by a large splinter of wood through the mans chest, that man was Lorenzo. I see Death. This can’t be, this cannot be. Maria’s pov- I felt pain in my head, my skin was stinging. I looked down at myself, my arms and hands covered in miniature slices. My fingers instinctively going to my face, gliding over the stinging skin. I don’t understand, what was happening.

Money follows money. So they say, she smelt rich and so was Marley and together, they made a perfect match, perfect enough to own a heated romance novel cover; both clinging champagne flutes with wealthy smiles on their faces in an extremely luminous ballroom with huge crystal chandeliers here and there or better still, him holding her delicate fingers against his thick chest with the other firmly fastened on the arch of her back as their beam of smiles darken each other's eyes. "Zaphrina it's not what you think, she's-" she heard Marley's pleading voice fade away with each step she took.

Damian lay still, his hand still warm from Rowan's grip. Nathan pressed closer to him. "He is going to be fine." "I know." Rowan sprinted toward the library and pushed open the door. Marshal was already seated at his usual place, the book open before him, his spectacles perched on his nose, his finger tracing the ancient script. He looked up when Rowan entered, but his expression did not change. Rowan slipped into his usual seat, his breath still coming fast, his heart still pounding. He cleared his throat.

The library in the Calhoun estate always smelled faintly of sandalwood and secrets. Late morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows, scattering light over old tomes, gleaming decanters, and walls lined with shelves far older than any of its current occupants. Marcello stood by the fireplace, lazily swirling a glass of deep red wine, his black shirt slightly rumpled as if he hadn’t slept well. Across from him, Seraphina reclined on a velvet chaise, legs crossed, manicured fingers scrolling through something on her phone. She was dressed in black lace and silk, as usual—soft luxury with sharp edges. Her expression was unreadable, lips pursed in mild boredom.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the signing. Not the contract itself. Not even the way my name now sat next to his on that paper. It was the way Kael had spoken up for me. Twice now. Nobody had ever done that before. I hated how much it stuck with me. Mara found me in the library the next morning. “Would you like to see more of the Citadel, my lady? It might help you settle in.” I nodded. Anything beat sitting alone with my thoughts.