Chapter 30

Thirty

Kyrith

F rom the moment the doors open and the first patron catches sight of me, the whispers start. I should’ve known it wouldn’t stop there, but perhaps I underestimated my own importance, because one moment I’m alone at my desk, and the next Rector Talcott, Isidora Carlton, and Artemius ó Rinn are staring me down from the other side.

The patrons peer nosily up from their books, and Magister Hopkinson is lingering in the wings, like he wants to be included, but won’t risk being reprimanded by the triad of power in front of me.

Three parriarchs at once. That’s halfway to six already. The very idea of it makes me tense.

“Librarian,” Rector Talcott greets me.

I’ve never had an issue with him before. He’s young, for a rector of the university, only in his sixties, with a flop of neatly trimmed grey hair, a matching moustache, and square spectacles that glint in the lamplight. The position of rector—and leadership of the arcanists—is cyclical, meaning that each time the incumbent dies or resigns, the replacement is the parriarch of the next family in the cycle.

His youth and good health are the only thing standing between him and Isidora inheriting the position. If Josef outlives her, he’ll be the next rector. If not, it will most likely be North, if he makes it to the rank of magister.

I wonder if anyone has explained that to him yet.

“Rector Talcott.” I nod at him but don’t extend the courtesy to the other two. “Parriarchs.”

The rector’s brown eyes slide over my cracked body, and I force myself not to wiggle under his shrewd gaze. “We’ve received reports that you were deteriorating.”

A flash of movement in the corner of my eye draws my gaze to the stairs on my left, but I don’t dare turn my gaze from the people in front of me to check what Pierce is up to.

“I’m perfectly capable of running the Arcanaeum,” I say flatly. “There’s no cause for concern.”

“We can hardly consider you impartial on the matter.” Isidora’s cold eyes rake up and down my body. “If your judgement is impaired by your current state?—”

“It isn’t, and claiming as much will not persuade me to rescind my offer of sanctuary,” I reply bluntly. “My condition is a private matter. The Arcanaeum hasn’t suffered for it, and while you are, of course, welcome to use the resources, I will not continue to entertain this line of questioning. The parriarchs hold no authority over this Arcanaeum.”

To my consternation, they regularly require reminders of that fact.

“Dakari is here?” Rector Talcott beams, apparently deciding that a change of subject is the best way to disperse the threatening chill creeping into the Rotunda. “Where is—Ah! There you are!”

I turn to find him stepping out from behind a shelf, not even pretending that he wasn’t eavesdropping. I expected that he might be more pleased to see a relative, but the stubborn set of his jaw and the ticking muscle at his temple aren’t screaming joyful family reunion.

“The Librarian is fine, uncle,” he says derisively, voice rumbling as he steps into the light. “I think?—”

“Ah, what a happy coincidence,” Isidora interrupts, as if she didn’t essentially trap him here. “The rector and I were just talking about you before the news reached us.”

Dakari’s black gaze goes cold. “I’m not interested in whatever schemes the two of you have agreed on.”

Only an idiot would ignore the danger floating in that dark look. Well, either an idiot, or someone so used to power as to believe themselves immortal.

“Yes!” his uncle beams, focusing solely on Isidora. “We’d like you to spend some more time with Isidora’s daughter, Anthea. It’s been a long time since there were any good ties between House Carlton and Talcott.”

Is he saying…?

Dakari is furious. The dark glint in his eyes promises violence as his hand comes casually down to rest on the grimoire at his hip. “That’s cute. Using me to build alliances after you chucked me out. Besides, even if I were inclined to fuck that bitch, Anthea’s banished from the Arcanaeum, and I’m stuck here until Isidora calls off her goons.”

“Come now,” Isidora tuts. “I was protecting my home, which you broke into. But I’m willing to overlook that and your rather poor record within our community for the sake of an alliance. Anthea’s a responsible girl who’s bound to become a steadying presence for such a troubled young man. Abe and I agree that a match between the two of you would only strengthen Talcott’s position.”

I’m speechless, and so is Dakari—though I suspect his condition is more due to rage-induced-stoicism than shock. He’s glaring between the two of them like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. All the while, Isidora’s cunning smile only grows wider, the light from the Rotunda’s glass ceiling catching in the gems dripping from her ears and casting menacing rainbows across her face.

“Now isn’t the time to be gossiping about your engagement,” the ó Rinn parriarch interjects, looking rather sour-faced. “We are here to discuss the welfare of this great institution, not politics.”

It’s a lie. Everything these people do is political, but I nod woodenly.

“There is nothing to discuss,” I repeat, though it feels pointless. “Either find a book or leave. The Arcanaeum is fully functional, as am I. Even if it wasn’t, we do not bow to the whims of the parriarchy.”

With that, I turn my back on them. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.

No matter how many years pass, the parriarchs remain the same. Just as greedy, power hungry, and prying as ever. Now they’ve spotted a weakness they’ll be watching for a chance, like hyenas circling a wounded creature.

Galileo was right. When I’m gone, they’ll fight for control of the Arcanaeum like toddlers. He who controls this building controls the information available to all arcandom. I can picture it now—how the victor would limit access and censor or remove books that don’t support their agenda.

The words gleaming across the floor of the foyer suddenly seem more apt than ever. I may not be perfect, but at least I have enough integrity to ensure all the books are available to everyone, even those I personally disagree with.

“You did well,” Dakari murmurs under his breath as he jogs to catch up with me. “They’re still fuming.”

“They have no power here,” I mutter, gliding through a stack of books floating back to their shelves that he’s forced to dodge around. “I am more concerned with why Isidora Carlton wants you to marry her daughter, and why her son just used that distraction to slip past me.”

Dakari curses, catching on quickly. “Where’s Jasper?”

He’s found a corner of the Restoration Tower where he’s been quietly reading all morning, but Pierce is already there, and that’s what worries me.

“With him,” I confirm, floating a little faster. “But they’re currently only talking.”

“I’ll deal with Pierce,” Dakari suggests, easily keeping pace with me on the stairs. “You’re?—”

“Fine.” Magic, are they also going to treat me like an invalid? “I can handle it.”

Dakari grunts but doesn’t say another word on the subject. Wise man.

He takes the spiral stairs two at a time, but I summon a large pile of biographies into his path just before we reach the room, stopping him.

“Wait. We may learn more if we don’t rush in there.”

“You want to spy on Jasper…?”

No. I want to spy on Pierce, and he must gather that, because those brows crease with judgement. I raise mine, daring him to comment.

His disgruntled look says he doesn’t approve, but he wordlessly waves me forwards. “Two minutes.”

I have no doubt he’ll time me.

Merging with the fabric of the Arcanaeum, I reappear inside a dusty shelf in the room above and search the cluttered room for the two of them. This tower is only used by a few arcanists —mostly because there aren’t many with the power and skill required for master-level magics—and so they’re the only two in here.

Pierce is wearing a navy waistcoat and a pale blue shirt with the top buttons undone. Every strand of his coiffed platinum hair is neatly in place as he leans against the shelf to my left. It might seem casual, if not for the way he’s blocked Jasper between two stacks with his presence alone.

In contrast, the recovering mage is sitting like he’s ready to bolt, muscles coiled and tense. There’s a dark knowledge in those warm eyes, a weariness that wasn’t there before.

“So you see why I came?” Pierce asks.

“I understand.” Jasper gets to his feet woodenly. “But I don’t like it, and I don’t think you do either.”

Something strange passes across the face of the Carlton heir, so fleeting it’s impossible to read.

“I’m not stupid enough to think I have a choice in the matter. We were born heirs. There’s no Sanctuary for men like us.”

That’s a lie, but the defeat on Jasper’s face says he believes him.

“Just give me some time. I’m not recovered. My magic?—”

“You’re only good for healing others, anyway.” Pierce waves a hand so casually that I wouldn’t have paid any mind to it, except that his palm lands closer to the grimoire holstered at this hip.

That’s threatening enough for me to intervene. I appear behind him, clearing my throat just to watch the momentary panic tense his shoulders.

“Mr Carlton, I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from cornering my guests.”

Dakari shoulders his way up the stairs behind me, staring down Pierce until his very presence gives me a little boost of confidence. Suddenly I understand scary dog privilege—not that he’s a dog, but honestly, he’s large, intimidating, and on my side. It counts.

“No harm in having a conversation.” Pierce shrugs so nonchalantly that I’d almost believe him if I hadn’t heard that earlier snippet of their conversation.

My fingers itch to banish him. But I know in my gut that he’s one of them. The Arcanaeum’s already wiped away the strike I gave him. It would simply allow him back in, and once he realises he’s immune to my threats, he’ll have the upper hand.

Better to keep the illusion of control.

“I’m okay, Kyrith,” Jasper says, peering around the body of his onetime captor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Mr Carlton…” I trail off, unsure what I can say to this man that I haven’t already tried.

He’s looking at me strangely now, like he’s calculating something or considering another angle.

“Yes, Kyrith ?”

The way he says my name, like he’s entitled to it, sets my spine straighter. “It’s Librarian to you.”

“Seems like unfair treatment for someone who’s supposed to be impartial.”

It does not! Indignation has me pursing my lips for a second. “Jasper hasn’t threatened me.”

“I’ve only ever been on your side; generously so, I might add.”

Pierce slips past me with a smug little smirk I don’t trust. “Think about what I said,” he calls over his shoulder. “You know where to go.” A pause as he reaches the wall of muscle that is Dakari. “Oh, would you like me to help you pick a ring for Anthea? She likes pearls, hates sapphires, and?—”

Pierce Carlton flies up into the ceiling like a rag doll, slamming against the rafters with an awful crack that makes me flinch. As quickly as he ascended, he drops, splatting onto the carpet with a surprisingly muted thud. The three of us wait apprehensively for him to get up.

He doesn’t.

Oh dear. Not another incident to deal with? I swipe a hand down my face in exasperation.

Dakari didn’t even need to move or speak an incantation. His hand slips free of the pages of his grimoire as he offers me an unapologetic shrug.

“Now he’s unconscious and cluttering up the room,” I grumble.

“What did I miss?” Jasper asks, frowning. “Why are you both so…?”

“What did Pierce say to you?” I float over the top of the Carlton heir and examine him for any lingering paleness or disorientation from last night.

“Just that my family was aware I was alive and making trouble for his mother.” Jasper pushes out of his chair with deliberate slowness, giving me a chance to move away. “Some warnings that they might be in danger. What did I miss?”

He raises a hand to my new cracks, but I dodge back before it can make contact.

“Don’t touch me. You’ll make it worse,” I tell him, honestly. “North accidentally caught me before your seizure, and then when you did…”

His face falls, and guilt eclipses his warm eyes, turning them cold and morose.

“So I was partially responsible?”

“It was an accident. I don’t understand why it keeps happening, and why it’s only you six.”

“Six?” Dakari edges his way between me and the unconscious Pierce.

“Yes,” I admit, resignation weighing down the word.

I avoided talking about it, but keeping it a secret didn’t stop it from happening. They all know now, anyway. Everyone except the arcanist on the floor behind me and Lambert.

I’ll never tell the former, for obvious reasons, and the latter… One of the others must have mentioned it, because there hasn’t been a hug-attempt since the shower incident. Not that it matters. He’s moved on to his next conquest now, anyway.

I am not bitter about that.

Being bitter would mean I had expectations, and there was literally no way a relationship could have worked. Even if there was, Lambert isn’t that kind of guy. He has a different girl tucked under his arm in every class. I knew that when I decided to join him.

I turn back to Pierce to distract myself from the topic. “I should probably heal him.”

If I don’t, there will be allegations of favouritism—more than there are already. Reluctantly, I float closer, only to freeze.

His eyes are open, the grey orbs focused and alert.

He heard everything. The smirk he’s wearing confirms it.

“Don’t waste your magic.” He pushes himself up onto his elbows with a sly look I don’t trust for one second, smoothing back his princely blond hair with one hand. “So, touching the heirs is causing the cracks? Well, that’s interesting to know, isn’t it?”

He knows something. The certainty slams into me like an ice shard.

Dakari reaches for his grimoire, but Pierce has used our distraction to his advantage, and he’s faster.

Instead of the attack I’m prepared for, he mutters a swift spell and disappears in a flash of light. The last notes of his cultured voice hang in the air a second—transportation spells in and out of the Arcanaeum always taking a little longer than they should—and then there’s only silence, made heavier with the knowledge that I just made an incalculable error.

“Is he gone?” Dakari asks, his hand still pressed to the pages, power radiating from him.

I nod. “Yes. That was a quick transport spell. He must have set up a beacon before he came here, which means he was expecting to get caught.”

Ordinarily, the Arcanaeum would’ve blocked such an attempt…but not Pierce.

Why are these six men the exception to every rule?

Dakari grimaces. “We won’t let him get close enough to touch you.”

Shaking my head, I move towards the stairs. “I would rather enjoy the magiball game with you both than worry about something that’s out of our control.”

“Kyrith.” He steps in front of me. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Meeting those predatory eyes takes a lot of bravery, and I fold my arms over my abdomen as if it will help me hold myself together.

“Pierce believes that the reason for the cracks is because the Arcanaeum is running out of power. He said he wouldn’t have to get rid of me, because sooner or later, I’ll die, anyway.”

Jasper curses. “We can help. We’re heirs. Power is our thing, right?”

Dakari is silent, thinking it over. “You don’t think he was telling the truth?”

“Pierce Carlton is no stranger to necromancy,” I say with a soft certainty that makes the shelves around us dip with sadness. “But his theory doesn’t add up. I can still use a tremendous amount of power without tiring. The Arcanaeum is still running normally.”

“So he’s talking out of his ass.”

Honestly, I don’t know. No one knows. This isn’t something that’s ever happened before. There aren’t any other Arcanaeums or librarians to draw comparisons from.

So I shrug. “I can only hope that he’s drawing the wrong conclusions, and therefore likely to underestimate me.”

Except, I think back to that look he gave me before he disappeared, and wonder…

What if I’m wrong?