Palmer Reader Novels & Stories

Reader’s POV The moment Palmer halted outside the palace, Miller did the same and after a quick survey to ascertain no one was watching them, she pinned him against the wall. “What are you going to get from this?" She said through her teeth, pushing him further into the wall like she was going to embed him inside. “Nothing, I’m just being selfless." He said and with a single push, he made her stumble backwards. He was already heading in the opposite direction when she ran up to him, now walking side by side, she whispered, “Tell me, do you think they heard us?"

“Now, come and sign the papers.” Deborah just made a grimace as she approached the desk to take the papers. “Deborah…” [Calm down.] Deborah wrote while smiling, turning to take the documents to read them. But Cameron immediately snatched them from her hands. [What’s wrong with you?] “I told you to sign, not to read.” [And why can’t I read it?] “Just sign.” [First, I’m going to read it.] “Mr. Palmer…” Hunter looked a bit nervous, glancing intently at the time on his wristwatch.

“A reader. You attach it to any book, codex, or artifact that contains recorded knowledge. When activated, it transfers the contents directly, without opening the object or disturbing any seals bound to it.” His eyes sharpened with interest after my explanation. “Directly… to my mind?” I raised a brow at that. “No, mine,” I corrected subtly, “or to itself. It stores what it reads. The information can be retrieved later, intact. It doesn't depend on the creator’s mana, only activation.” Silence fell between us. Feline let out a low breath, something between disbelief and awe. He stared at the reader as though he were witnessing the finest creation of his time, and heat crept up my cheeks desp

Khali said. "You want me to check it?" Rye asked Khali said nothing, but she blushed. Rye was staring at the sea. Since it was dawn, the breeze was cold. They were silent for a few minutes and did not talk. "Am I boring?" Rye suddenly asked Khali turned to him. "Of course not. Why did you come up with that?" "I just thought about it." Rye just said. Khali wasn't saying anything; she averted her eyes from Rye. She loses control of her ability. She could read Rye's thoughts; it was as though her thoughts were breaking her heart. Khali's tears came out of thin air.

My voice did not shake. The man tilted his head. He didn't have a face, just a shifting darkness where his features should be. "You can call me the Reader," he said. His voice sounded like paper rubbing together. "I am the one who pays for the ink. I am the one who decides if your story ends here or keeps going." Bryan stepped in front of me, his hand on his pistol. "He’s another code, Hazel. Don’t listen to him." The Reader laughed. It was a dry, thin sound. "A copy thinks he has a choice. How cute."

“But you can never be too sure.” Her eyes flickered up to meet mine briefly, and she gave a little dainty shrug before depositing the contents of her fork into her mouth. For a few moments I watched her chew, not sure of what it was exactly that I was witnessing. “I’m Palmer by the way,” she introduced, offering her hand up for a handshake. After some careful consideration I took the outstretched palm, and almost immediately I was struck by how soft they were, the total lack of calluses… what that signified.

he muttered softly, "I didn't mean to startle you." She looked at him, tilting her head, her eyes questioning. "My name is Benjamin Palmer," he explained, raising his head again as he mindfully approached, willing to present himself to her as nonthreatening. "You might consider me the librarian here. Of course, I like to think of myself as the bookkeeper," he stretched out his hand, and patiently waited for her to accept it along with the warm welcome. "Perhaps there's one that might interest you," he invitingly commented with a friendly smile.

Not the way his lips shaped the words, not the furrow of concentration in his brow, not the strength threaded into the calm of his delivery. My chest tightened with something both thrilling and terrifying: Kael Palmer was reading in my book club. Sitting among my friends. Stepping into my life like he’d always belonged there. When he finished, there was a pause, as if no one wanted to break the spell. Then a round of applause broke out. “You came well prepared,” April said as she slapped. “Don't be too surprised,” he said with a bright smile. I clenched my jaw, though a smile tugged at me. While they saw Kael as handsome, untouchable, wealthy, I saw the soft guy who had broken down on my cou

What had come next had taken fifteen years to arrive. Don read the letter again. He saw, in the editor's words, something he had not anticipated. The editor had not simply been a professional facilitator of the books' publication. She had been a reader. Not a reader like the general audience — a reader inside the argument in a way that only the person closest to the making could be. She had read every draft of every book. She had written comments in the margins. She had called him when a section was not working and had said: "The argument is not here yet, but it is approaching." She had been the first reader of everything he had written for fifteen years.

Palmer hummed faintly as if she didn’t believe me, and then she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against my wrist before trailing upward with careful precision, mapping my skin like she was reading a story only she could understand. “You’re shaking,” she observed gently. “I’m not.” A pause. Then a soft smile in her voice. “You are.” I swallowed, forcing myself to stay still even as something uncomfortable tightened in my chest, because no one had ever noticed me this closely without wanting something in return, and I wasn’t sure what to do with gentleness that expected nothing. Palmer moved away only to return moments later with a small first aid box, and before I could even protest