She’d entered a city made entirely of leather and paper. Celaena put a hand against her heart. Escape routes be damned. “Ive never seen — how many volumes are there?”
Chaol shrugged. “The last time anyone bothered to count, it was a million. But that was two hundred years ago. I’d say maybe more than that, especially given the legends that a second library lies deep beneath, in catacombs and tunnels.”
“Over a million? A million books?” Her heart leapt and danced, and she cracked a smile. “I’d die before I even got through half of that!”