Chapter 14

Fourteen

Kyrith

T here are two men and a woman waiting at the desk below, but the illusion that glides towards them isn’t me. It’s a perfect copy, minus the streaks of black lightning up one arm.

Why didn’t I think of this before? I ask myself, smirking from my hiding spot on the Gallery above.

The first rule of negotiations? Never let your enemy see your weakness.

The three arcanists before the desk are certainly projecting strength. Immaculate, slick blond hair, tailored black suits, and even the heavy, gold statement jewellery around the neck of the woman at their head is all part of the perfect display of wealth and power.

We may no longer wear robes, but it’s not hard to see the same money that once clothed Rector Carlton at work here.

“Yes?” I ask, making the illusion speak.

“The ancestral seat of House Carlton was broken into last night,” the woman in front, Anthea Carlton, begins. “By two fugitives that the Arcanaeum has granted Sanctuary to.”

The illusion’s head cocks to one side, and from above, I watch as the early-bird patrons begin to drift towards the Rotunda like the gossips they are. I assume they all want to know what the Carlton heir needs from me, given that she graduated a while ago.

“Even if that were the case, I fail to see how your presence here is warranted. Unless you’re here to threaten the Arcanaeum or myself in the hopes I might revoke that Sanctuary? That would put you on tenuous ground, given that under the laws?—”

“We know the laws,” she interrupts, her severe blonde ponytail swaying as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms. “But the circumstances are different.”

“Why? Because this time it isn’t your house that I’m extending Sanctuary to?” I ask. “If I remember, the Carltons had no complaints when I granted your great-grandfather and his son Sanctuary from his abusive wife. I spent eight months undoing the ensorcellments she’d put on them. The Arcanaeum protects those in need, as it has always done.”

“It protects criminals.”

My nostrils flare, though no breath emerges. “Do tell me, how is a man who’s been a prisoner of your house for years a criminal? I’m sure clan McKinley would be very interested to hear that tale.”

I’m too far away to read her properly, but even from here I can make out the aggressive stiffening of her shoulders and the way her companions look around warily.

“And as for your other intruder, it would appear to me that he was merely an arcanist seeking to rescue his dear friend. Unless anything else was taken from House Carlton…”

All three of them bristle.

“The Arcanaeum’s survival relies on remaining a place of neutrality.” Anthea’s hand comes to rest over the dark grimoire holstered at her hip, and the Arcanaeum bristles, books rustling on the shelves. Something about that spell book feels slimy . “It would be unwise of the Librarian to change that stance.”

My illusion floats a little higher, not backing down.

“Threatening me will not convince me to change my mind. You are toeing the line of the law as it is. Now leave, before I banish the three of you.”

Under the terms of Sanctuary, no one can enter the Arcanaeum seeking to force those who have claimed protection to leave. Once Dakari and Jasper go, they’re free game, but until then…

“If it isn’t my least favourite cousin.” Lambert—stupid, happy, aggravating Lambert—bursts into the room with North just behind him. “Where’s your bigger, badder baby brother, Anthea? I owe him a black eye.”

He’s wearing jeans and a bright orange t-shirt with a cartoon ghost on it, the stark opposite to the formal black business attire of the Carltons, and in his arms is yet another poorly bound magiball magazine.

A quiet, exasperated breath fills the air beside me, and I jerk.

Galileo has snuck up on me while I wasn’t watching and stares down at the scene below with pure weariness on his face.

My illusion doesn’t flicker, though it’s a very close thing.

“Our parriarch will hear about this,” Anthea grumbles, ignoring Lambert. “She won’t be impressed.”

“Isadora is welcome to be as unhappy as she likes,” my illusion replies. “As long as she adheres to the law.”

I let the magic drop, my illusion disappearing and taking the final word with her.

Below me, Lambert snorts. “Threatening the boss lady, Thea? Really?”

“None of your business.” Anthea spares a glance at North. “And keep the half-dull bastard away from me. I don’t need that kind of taint breathing the same air.”

I know I shouldn’t. In fact, I really do try to hold myself back. This is North , after all, I don’t want to defend him.

But the book soars from the shelf, anyway, hitting Anthea square in the back of her perfect skull.

“The Librarian really dislikes that word,” Lambert supplies, helpfully. “Surely you remember that from your lessons…even if they were decades ago.”

Anthea isn’t old, in her mid-thirties at best, but the insult still hits.

“If your mother…” she begins.

“Why is the heir of House Carlton threatening the Arcanaeum?” Galileo asks, his voice quiet, but no less commanding, as he distracts me.

Abandoning Lambert to fight his own battles—because if he can’t finish what he started, he shouldn’t have started it—I turn to face him.

“It shouldn’t concern you,” I reply evenly. “Though I suppose you’ll find out, anyway. The Arcanaeum is hosting a few guests.”

“Who?”

But my reply is cut off.

“You dare say that to my face!” Anthea screeches.

Both of us turn at once, just in time to see Lambert’s tattoos glow and his skin turn to stone. His arm shoots out to knock North aside. Ackland looks like he’s been slugged by a ten-tonne boulder, which I suppose he has, but Lambert’s quick thinking is the only thing that spares them both as Anthea slams her palm down on a bookmarked page of her grimoire and breathes fire over them.

“Enough!” I snap, completely forgetting my desire to remain hidden. “No flames in the Arcanaeum.”

Making myself as translucent as possible, I zoom between the two arcanists. I land right in the middle of the stream of fire, but it does nothing besides shock Anthea out of her tantrum. The flames fizzle out as she removes her hand from the pages of her book, and I level my best scowl at her.

Summoning Anthea’s card into my hand, I tut under my breath as I realise she already has a strike there. It’s been long enough since she was here that I don’t remember the original infraction, but I don’t give third chances…

Well, apparently, I do, but only to Galileo, Lambert, and Northcliff.

“Banished,” I hiss at the polished Carlton heir. “You know the rules.”

Her face scrunches, but I don’t let my satisfaction show on mine. “He?—”

“ Fire in the library is forbidden.”

The second red strike burns through the paper, and before she can protest further, she’s dragged from the Rotunda by invisible hands. She’s not graceful about it either, screaming and cursing like a banshee.

I look at the two remaining Carlton thugs with disgust. I’m pretty sure these two haven’t been inside the Arcanaeum since first gaining entry years ago. That’s not unusual; many arcanists drift away from using the library after finishing college, but I don’t think I even saw these two during their studies.

“I suggest you also leave, before any more rules are broken.” That earns me clipped nods from both of them before they turn away. “And, Mr Winthrop, you?—”

“Shit, are you okay, Kyrith?” Lambert asks, reaching for me in concern. “Did she get you?”

I dodge so fast he stumbles, his skin still covered in that granite sheen.

Turning the dermis to stone is incredibly advanced transmutation magic, and he’s holding it like it’s nothing . He’s the most easily distractible person I’ve ever met. How on earth did anyone manage to get him to focus long enough to master that school of magic?

Did they tie him down? Tape the books to his face?

“No touching,” I hiss, eyeing his outstretched hand like it’s poison. “Get to class, before you cause any more chaos in my Arcanaeum.”

He pouts, eyes wide like I’ve kicked him, and I instantly feel bad. He holds out his other hand, the one still carrying a now-charred magazine, and I wince.

Glancing over my shoulder to make certain that the remaining Carltons have left, I sigh. “Thank you, Lambert. I’m fine, and the Arcanaeum appreciates your gift.”

I take the offered paper and mumble “ Risturi ,” beneath my breath.

The book is shiny and new and added to the collection before Lambert can drop his transmutation spell. Without it, his skin returns to normal, and North openly gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“Just me being a total badass and saving you from getting torched by a psycho.” Lambert shrugs as if the level of magic required for that spell was nothing special. “Anyway, Kyrith’s right. Time for class.” A pause, followed by a careful look over his shoulder. “Are you coming to this one? Hopkinson is really missing you.”

There’s a tentative hope in his voice, and I look down at the cracks in my arm, grimacing. “I might listen in, but my presence is disruptive.”

“You should sit with us,” Lambert says. “We can?—”

“I might,” I hedge. “But I need a favour. Can you bring food with you tonight?”

“Pizza and tutoring?” Lambert grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I thought food and drink weren’t allowed in the Arcanaeum.” North’s eyes narrow at me, and I look away.

“I can ask someone else?—”

“No, we’ve got this,” Lambert grins. “What’s your favourite pizza? Let me guess, you’re one of those weirdos who eats anchovies and olives?”

“We’re late,” North grumbles, belatedly grabbing his friend’s arm, and dragging him towards Conjurer’s Hall.

Perhaps he, unlike Lambert, has realised that the pizza is not for me.

“We won’t let you down, boss!” Lambert calls as he’s pulled away.

Galileo crosses the Rotunda, following them with a nod at me. “I look forward to our tutoring session tonight,” he murmurs in that silky soft voice of his.

Why does that sound like a threat?

I’m saved from trying to figure out the subtle undertones when a nudge from the Arcanaeum draws my gaze up. A familiar pair of black eyes frown down at me from the Gallery.

Dakari must’ve showered, because his skin is clear of the grime that coated him before, and he’s wearing a fresh set of clothes.

How much of that mess with the Carltons did he see?

All at once, I feel surrounded by them. Suffocated.

Every single heir was in the Arcanaeum together for the first time in centuries.

All of a sudden, I’m transported mentally back to the Vault, surrounded by the six families as they watch my life force bleed out.

Before I can do something melodramatic, like start running down the halls wailing like a true poltergeist, I let go, joining with the Arcanaeum until they can’t find me.

Surely, whatever this is will pass. I just need rest.