“I met one (that is, a dragon) once,” Irene said. “What did you talk about?” “He complimented me on my… — Genevieve Cogman

She wasn’t actually going to lie, but there was…well, there might be an element of flexibility.

She did find that the books displayed prominently in every chamber had been dusted, but the spines were pristine and uncreased. They had the sad, untouched air of literature paraded for display purposes but never actually used.

It was profoundly depressing.

The atmosphere of the place soothed her automatically; the rich lantern-lights, the sheer scent of paper and leather, and the fact that everywhere she looked, there were books, books, beautiful books.