“I mean, there’s no way you could possibly improve the Arcanaeum, boss lady. It’s the best building in the world.”
His puppy eyes are seriously unfair. The card disappears, strikeless.
I’m getting soft.
“Pick something from the book you think would help you on the court.” I wave him towards the corner alcove I set up for tonight, clearing away everything on the table except the syllabus. “From memory, there are at least three bombs and a handful of elixirs that contain herbs from your required learning.”
Lambert spreads open the first book, cracking the spine without care, and I swear Galileo and I both stiffen in actual pain at his carelessness.
“Oh my god,” he grins, oblivious. “This one!”
Frowning, because he’s only looked at one page, I float over his shoulder and sigh at the recipe for acidic immobilisation bombs.
The damage he could do to his opponents with that one makes the pens on my desk roll around with anticipatory remorse. Not only do magiball players have to concentrate on the three heavily enchanted and deadly balls, sabotaging the opposite team is highly encouraged andapparentlypart of the fun.
“Oh.” This is…complex. “Perhaps you should start with something simpler. Besides, there’s only one herb from the syllabus in this bomb.”
“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’. “Can you imagine the looks on their faces when they’re stuck to the floor, feet burning, and can’t even jump? I want to learn this one.”
The savage glint in his eyes makes me wish I hadn’t suggested anything.
“We can start making it today.” It’ll take longer to brew, however. “The Arcanaeum has most of the ingredients growing either in this hall or in the gardens.”
“Gardens?” Galileo’s head snaps towards me. “What gardens?”
I swallow, cursing myself for the slip. This is why I don’t talk to patrons. Some things should remain private.
“They’re not for public use. You would both do well to forget you ever heard about them.”
If I had arcanists begging me to raid the Arcanaeum’s gardens, there would be nothing left. As it is, I’ve had to strike more than one entitled idiot who thought to prune a few leaves from the plants in the Botanical Hall.
Don’t take what doesn’t belong to you. Why is that so hard to understand? Besides, the mist in the gardens might not hurt the plants, but arcanists who come into contact with it for long periods of time tend to fare badly.
“Are there more places like that?” Galileo presses, apparently not about to let the subject drop. “Places scholars can’t go beyond the restricted section for magisters?”
There it is, a crack in his calm, studious demeanour. Almost…desperate. In my life—or unlife—I’ve come to learn that there are few things as dangerous as a desperate man.
For the first time, I summonhiscard into my hand.
He shuts down, forcing himself to relax back into his seat with a stiffness that fools no one. “Apologies, Librarian. I was merely curious.”
“Hey, boss. Why does this call for ‘lion’s tooth’?”
Lambert’s innocent question distracts me, ending the staring contest that we’re stuck in.
“It’s a plant,” I say. “An old name for a dandelion.”
“Oh, good. I didn’t want to hurt a defenceless animal.”
Magic, please tell me he wasn’t considering wrestling an actual lion?
Galileo raises a brow. “Yet here we are, learning to construct a bomb that might cause a magiball player to lose their life.”
Lambert shrugs. “The game is vicious, but we choose to take the risk. The lion didn’t. Besides, anything’s worth it for the greatest game on Earth.” His mouth splits into one of those sun-bright smiles. “I’m going to rule the court with these things on my belt.”
“Stay here.” I sigh, dismissing his cocky optimism. “I’ll return with what you need.”
In the space of a second, I pop into the western courtyard. When I return with a bunch of carefully gathered herbs floating above my cupped palms, they’ve got their heads together, whispering.
