Chapter 35

Thirty-Five

Kyrith

“ I t needs tinsel,” Eddy tells me defiantly.

She looks ridiculous, dressed in a huge woollen jumper despite the Arcanaeum’s comfortable temperature, with a floppy red hat on her head.

I’m currently holding her suspended ten feet in the air while she decorates a ‘bare patch’ that I swear she’s imagined. The task grows immeasurably harder as she leans forward to place the bauble and then wiggles to mime getting down.

Surely not moving while you’re being held in the air is common sense.

“I refuse to have plastic cheapening this establishment,” I retort. “This is an Arcanaeum, not some over-commercialised inept nightmare.”

“It’s traditional.”

“How traditional can it be if it was only introduced in the sixties?” I ask rhetorically. “And before that, it was made of lead.”

“It needs sparkles!”

I drop my head into my hands and let out a frustrated little growl as she summons a string of plastic pearls into her hands.

Somewhere above us, the Arcanaeum summons a matching string and waits to see what she does with it.

I dismiss both with a wave of my hands. “Ribbons will suffice.”

“Look, if you won’t allow electricity in here, then?—”

“First, it’s electricity, then it’s those god-forsaken smartphones, and then we’re obsolete because it’s faster to search on a device than take the time to find a book. Critical thinking will decline, because of course that lady in robes making thirty-second videos must be a magister, and magic forbid , students check the provenance of their own sources.”

“You realise other libraries have modernised, right?” Eddy asks dryly. “God, you are such an old lady.”

I am not dignifying that with a response.

With a growl, I turn the subject back to the decorations. “You realise this is an obnoxious amount of time to spend decorating in order to celebrate the commercialised not-birthday of a demi-god you don’t believe in?”

And when she leaves, it will just be another thing to miss in the years that follow.

“Hey! It’s about fostering the spirit of giving and humanity.”

“Well, if it were successful, then homelessness and hunger would be eradicated by now.”

“You are such a Scrooge,” she dismisses, grabbing another red bauble the size of my skull and diligently hooking it onto the thirty-foot tall fir tree she insisted needed to go right in the middle of the Rotunda.

My desk has been shoved aside in favour of the monstrosity, and it appears my dignity is about to follow suit.

Bright gold and red ribbons already radiate from the topmost branches, hanging low before finishing in obnoxiously large bows tied to the railings of the Gallery. The tree itself surely can’t support much more of these decorations before it collapses, and I cannot fathom the sheer number of needles which have already been shed onto the tiles below.

And this is just the room Eddy chose to decorate herself. The Arcanaeum is far too happy to take her ideas and run with them. Every single nook and cranny is now bedecked in Christmas regalia.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Lambert crows, bouncing into the room with his arms spread wide and his mouth open in awe. “Eddy, did you do this? That tree’s huge! Arcanaeum, dude, you are looking slick.”

The building preens, and another two-dozen ribbon bows appear on the tree. I sigh noisily, but Lambert’s presence is a welcome balm to the boredom of the last few days.

Ever since Jasper left a week ago, things have been quiet. Sure, they returned for the latest magiball game a few days ago, even though Lambert’s team wasn’t playing, and they’ll probably return next week for the next one when he is, but it’s not the same.

Dakari still sleeps here but leaves for hours at a time, and the other four I barely see outside of their class with Hopkinson. Even their tutoring has become less frequent as Lambert struggles to find time outside of training, and North does… whatever it is he does to earn so many bruises.

Leo has returned to rarely leaving the Astrology room, where he pores over the runeforms he took from Ammie Talcott’s grimoire night and day. The two of us spend more time together in silence trying to decipher elements of the spell against ageing star charts than we do in conversation. It can hardly be called company.

“Keep your voice down,” I scold, more out of habit than anything else.

“Sorry, boss.” His smile is just as bright as he lifts Eddy up and spins her around before ruffling her short hair. “The decorations are amazing, though.”

A hundred more tiny wisplights flicker into being at his words, illuminating the proudly decorated tree even more.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter to the building, giving up when it simply adds more poxy ribbons in retaliation. “Are you here for a reason, Mr Winthrop, or simply to critique the Arcanaeum’s festive decorations?”

The abruptness in my tone never puts him off, and today is no exception.

“I’m just making sure you’re ready for the game next week.” He offers me an easy smile as he brushes a flyaway lock of hair out of his face. “It’s the last one before term ends.”

He says that as if I’m expected to draw some meaning from his statement, his face open with expectation. When I don’t immediately get it, he shrugs. “I’m heading back home for Christmas. I figured we could celebrate my win together before vacation.”

Oh.

Winter break. How could I forget? Normally, it simply marks a quieter period in the Arcanaeum, during which I tend to spend my time reorganising one hall or another. But I guess it means Lambert will be returning to the States and tutoring will probably stop altogether.

“That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” Eddy bops him on the nose. “We might be commiserating your defeat.”

He just shrugs. “Either way, we can open some presents together before I leave.”

Both of them are practically bouncing on the soles of their feet, and the Arcanaeum decides now is the perfect time to start raining glittering magical snowflakes over us all.

“Can you take me shopping?” Eddy asks him. “I need to grab something without North knowing?—”

“You’re not leaving.” Lambert shuffles uneasily on the spot. “You claimed Sanctuary, Eddy. If you leave?—”

“What? Josef’s gonna hunt me down in the middle of the street? Let him try. Kyrith’s been teaching me self-defence.”

“I have taught you basic nullification,” I correct. “Hardly enough to defend yourself against a magister. You’re also rather weak for an arcanist.” It’s sometimes the way with twins, which has led to multiple unfounded theories of magic being stolen in the womb.

Eddy’s eyes narrow, and a flash of stubbornness crosses her face. “I’m not weak.”

“She didn’t mean it like that.” Lambert holds his hands out, trying ineffectually to step between us. “Kyrith’s just blunt.”

“You are not strong enough to master anything beyond foundation level magic,” I say honestly. “That’s not a bad thing.”

She needs to accept it, and fast. Not only for her own safety, but for her sanity.

“I’ve seen too many arcanists obsess over becoming stronger,” I warn. “It never ends well. You have the drive to become an accomplished arcanist, and you have time to discover your talents.”

Eddy isn’t saying anything. Her arms remain crossed over her chest, and she stares me down. Even Lambert is shooting me an expectant look.

What am I supposed to say? Does she want me to lie and tell her she’s a strong arcanist? Is this one of those ‘well, as long as you make an effort, you can be anything you want to be’ lies? Isn’t she a little old for that kind of mollycoddling?

“This is the part where you say you’re sorry,” Eddy coaches. “You don’t call your friends weak.”

My hand finds the edge of my sleeve and tugs as I turn away. “I apologise, but you need to understand that I’m not going to be the last person to call you that. Adepts will shove it in your face at every opportunity, and they’ll do it more often if it becomes clear that it gets to you. Better to own it now than deal with the consequences later.”

Because if there’s one thing that’s worse than being magically weak, it’s being an easy target.

“Or I could just kick them in the balls.” Eddy shrugs.

“That’s not how things work with arcanists,” Lambert nudges. “The boss is right. The moment you even hint at being sensitive over it, it will follow you everywhere.”

“You’re the sister of a future parriarch,” I remind her. “That can go one of two ways. Either you’re an easy target for anyone looking to strike at North, or you’re an asset to his house. Which is it?”

“Like you even have to ask.” She turns her nose up in mock offence. “But seriously… How on earth am I supposed to be useful if I’m so ‘weak?’” She makes finger quotes in the air at the last word.

“Learn everything about everyone,” Lambert suggests. “That was what my dad did for my mom. He was like her social encyclopaedia, which was great, because she hated that shit.”

It’s the first time he’s spoken about his parents, and Eddy shoots him a sympathetic look that makes me certain he won’t make the same mistake again.

To save him from whatever she’s about to say, I add, “Or you can become so talented at foundation magic that no one will dare cross you. People look down on Alchemy until a bomb blows up in their face or they’re begging for the antidote to an incurable poison. Ackland might have some of the strongest destruction school magisters in the world, but they won’t dare assault the McKinley fortress because their nullifiers are just as formidable.”

Eddy’s grin becomes downright luminous, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “I don’t think we’ll get that far. North doesn’t want to become parriarch.”

“Unless he dies, there’s not much of a choice.”

He’s powerful, a direct descendant of the current head of the family, and clearly being groomed for the position. It’s rare for anyone to contest that. No one is stupid enough to want a weakling at the head of the family. They’d be crushed by the other parriarchs.

The only reason our society works is because the houses remain in balance.

Lambert shuffles in place, evidently uncomfortable with the reminder of his own fate. I can’t imagine he’s too fond of the idea of leading the Winthrops, either. He doesn’t exactly have the personality for sitting in on meetings, and he would have to give up his aspirations as well. Perhaps he’s simply hoping that the current Winthrop parriarch outlives his magiball career, or maybe that a more powerful Winthrop cousin is born before she dies.

“Anyway,” he continues. “Christmas shopping?”

“Yes.” Eddy relaxes at the change of subject. “I’ll even put up with you as an escort.”

“Hey! I’m not an escort.”

“No,” she agrees. “They get paid. You’re just a manwhore.”

Lambert snorts, and I…find myself ghosting backwards without meaning to. It’s subtle—I don’t think either of them has noticed yet—but the Arcanaeum has noticed, brightening the lights around us as a way to cover my escape.

I’m harder to see in the light.

“Have fun.” There’s a breeziness in my tone that completely belies the yearning there.

If I were a better person, perhaps I wouldn’t resent the fact that they can leave. If I were sensible, I wouldn’t have let them all grow so close to me that I began comparing myself to them.

In a blink, I’m back in the clock tower, looking at the jarring difference between my side and Eddy’s. Since she arrived, she’s been steadily encroaching on my space with her colourful cushions and beanbags and even adding a vanity full of modern makeup that I watch her put on with fascination each morning. The result? What used to be her ‘corner’ has truly become her half.

I don’t really mind, since she steers clear of my little shelf of gifts, but the stark difference between my sombre jewel tones and her bright ones is another nightmare reminder.

“Magic damnit!” I curse, eyeing the messy sheets on her bed compared to the lifeless, neatly made ones on mine.

This is too much. The last time.

In all my years, I’ve never been one for self-destructiveness like this. I’ve kept a strict boundary between me and everyone else to avoid exactly this situation. I am not a mopey, whining caricature of a ghost who so longs for company that she throws herself into situations where her existence is imperilled just to assuage the loneliness of death.

Whatever it is about the six heirs, and now Eddy, that has me wound up tight and conflicted like this, it needs to stop.

I have a duty as Librarian. I have to protect the Arcanaeum, and to do that, I have to remain in one piece. If the cracks weren’t warning enough, then perhaps watching them slowly getting on with their lives away from here will be.

I don’t want to kick Eddy out, but once she’s safe… No more law of sanctuary. No more tutoring. Once the semester is over, I have to call a stop to it all, because even though I can’t feel, I still…hurt.