Perhaps the arrival of the Lord of the Howling Mountain will liven up her night.

Black smoke pours in through the windows and swirls together into the form of a man, standing in the middle of the room in a clear spot that is much clearer by the time he finishes materializing. He looks around and smiles. People freeze in place when his gaze falls upon them, and it's not entirely clear whether he's doing that by force of personality or by magic.

It takes a few seconds for her to look up from her book.

...it's a good book.

This draws Lord Tanaikon's attention. People edge out of the way until there is a corridor through the crowd leading directly from him to her couch.

The movement causes her to look up briefly, at first irritated, then...not.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.  She's pretty.  And this isn't her being conceited, this is just a thing she knows about herself.  She's pretty and she's alone and the Lord of the Howling Mountain is coming towards her oh fuck.

He laughs.

"Good evening!" he says, walking up to her. "What are you reading?"

"Um.  Lady of the House," she says tentatively.  "You, um, you've probably heard of it, it's the one about the woman who has two lovers and they don't know about each other, but it's not a comedy like you would think.  It's more of meditative exploration of the main character's, um, emotional state, because, you see, she knows she's not going to get away with it, and she lives in this constant state of dread...oh wow that's, um, weirdly appropriate, huh?"  She laughs nervously.  It sounds a lot less casual and a lot more strangled than she intended.

"A bit, yes."

"Have you read this one?" says Ria.  "Because you can borrow it if you want, I wouldn't mind.  I've never heard of you, um, descending from the mountain shrouded in a cloak of darkness go book shopping or anything like that, so I guess I don't know how or if you get new books.  So you could just, um, keep it, if you like it."

She's babbling.  She is aware that she's babbling.  She can't seem to stop babbling.  At this point it's a choice between 'continued babbling' and 'uncontrollable sobbing.'

"It doesn't sound familiar, but I might have a copy in my library. I don't always get around to reading a book in the same decade I take it home."

Okay, well, if the Lord of the Howling Mountain wants to talk about books, she can definitely talk about books.

"Wow, I actually don't think I could let a book sit that long but I guess you're busier than me," she says.  "Also, I'm just now realizing that I know nothing about your taste in books, so maybe I shouldn't be making recommendations.  Although I could probably make some guesses based on your, um, aesthetic sense."

He laughs. He has a surprisingly nice laugh.

"Go on, then," he says. "What books would you recommend to me?"

She feels very encouraged by the nice laugh!  She's still, you know, scared, but no longer terrified.

"Um," she says, "Definitely check out some lyric plays by Aravedes, he's great at high drama and the language is gorgeous.  Ansati Ghosts is sort of creepy and surreal, but also has surprisingly in-depth characterization.  Leila Nevethire does atmospheric horror stories with surprising twists, it's hard to find her work because some of it is controversial but I'm sure you'll manage."  She pauses.  "And if I were you I would've read all the, uh, you-themed literature I could find, possibly just to make fun of it.  If you haven't, I recommend it.  It ranges from 'profound meditation on the unquenchable human desire to tame the untamable' to 'thinly-veiled self-insert erotica' and you'll probably find it entertaining given that you, um, know the truth."

He giggles. "You know," he says, "I'm very tempted to show you my library. I think you'd like it."

Oh my god he's giggling, evil woman-kidnapping rapists don't giggle, do they?  Focus, Ilimore, focus.

"That," she says, wondering if there's a polite way to ask if she has a choice, because he did not phrase it as though she had a choice even though he is being very friendly, "sounds really exciting.  But that would involve leaving with you for an indefinite period of time, probably, and I don't know if I should.  Can.  I don't know if I can."

"Oh? What's stopping you?"

"Well, if I'm gone too long my mother will start to worry, and so will my grandparents, and they'll really miss me.  Like, whatever you're thinking, you're probably underestimating it.  And I have deadlines to meet for the next couple anthologies I'm appearing in, and, look, even though you are very charming, you also have a clearly carefully maintained reputation for being the sort of person who doesn't return your guests home on time or at all."

Admittedly, his reputation also involves not asking his guests' permission, but she's trying not to think about that. 

"That's true," he acknowledges. "But where else are you going to get a chance to see the biggest collection of books in the world? And you can tell me what I'm missing! My collection is very extensive but a little haphazard."

"The biggest collection in the world?"

"I'm three thousand years old. Things tend to accumulate."

"Right, right.  Wow, um."  It's possible that if she said no, he would leave her alone.  Then she could get through the rest of this party and then go home, finish that piece on Oroshe's social scene she was writing, read, attend one of her grandmother's functions, make small talk with any successful university classmates she happens to run across, eat some sugary desserts, start a relationship she knows won't go anywhere, maybe look up Lakune and see if he's single or willing to pretend to be...

...yeah you know what, given the choice between that and the exciting, handsome stranger with the three-thousand-year-old library, she really wants to go with the second option.  Even with the chance that he'll do something terrible to her.

"Do you mind if I write a letter to my mother first?"

He shrugs. "I'm not in a hurry."

She locates a piece of paper and a writing implement of some sort and writes.

She writes very quickly.  She write a lot.  She occasionally glances nervously at the Lord of the Howling Mountain.

Then she finds one of the terrified people in the crowd to send it for her, turns to him, and says, "I'm ready."

He offers her his hand.

She takes it.

And then they are a gust of wind, flowing through the sky toward the Howling Mountain.

There is a lake there, and a castle. And in the castle, under an enormous glass skylight, there is a library eight floors high, each floor having shelves and shelves of books radiating outward from an empty space in the center enclosed by a sturdy railing. The gust of wind sneaks in through the ceiling, and they rematerialize on the top floor, looking down over the railing at the other seven.