“Pierce Carlton!” I snap, appearing before him on the spiralling staircase of the atrium. “Justwhatdo you think you’re doing?”
“If I can get this far, your security is lacking,” he critiques, in place of answering. “Mathias would’ve made it to the dagger by now.”
He’s still walking, brushing by me as if he has every right to be down here.
“This place is restricted, and you should be in class.” I appear in front of him again, but he merely rolls his eyes at me.
“I’m here to protect the heart. I can’t do that if I don’t even know what’s down here.”
Good point, but still. I don’t trust him. He knows that.
And his unhurried pace makes it clear he doesn’t care.
My body isn’t down here anymore, I reason, drifting ahead of him. I’ll stay hidden, keep myself separate. I can monitor him from among the shelves. Then when he’s gone, I’ll triple the protections.
If only it were so simple.
Pierce isn’t content to pretend that I’m not here.
“The lighting is a concern,” he begins. “Brighter would give intruders fewer places to hide.”
Perhaps. But this isn’t just some room for storing valuables.
“Darkness is important for the preservation of the older texts. And this is a tomb. Fluorescents are hardly appropriate.”
A tiny frisson of tension enters his shoulders, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.
He’s a good actor.
That only makes me trust him less.
“Am I going to find corpses at the bottom of this staircase?” he asks.
“No. Not anymore.”
I’m not sure where my body goes when I switch to my ghostly form. I have an awful feeling that somehow the Arcanaeum absorbs it and then recreates it at my whim, which would mean I only exist as an extension of it.
The altar comes into view, cutting off my existential crisis, and Pierce tsks under his breath.
“These defences are basic.” His hand lands on his grimoire, and the basic invisibility spell I cast over the dagger is ripped away, followed by the shield.
I don’t like the way his eyes narrow on the blade, or how they linger at the tiny chip in the smooth stone below.
“Is this where you were sacrificed?” He glances at the spire above as his fingers trace the runeforms on the altar. “It would’ve been smarter to get rid of it rather than leave it all set up for Mathias to pick up where he left off.”
“These are immensely powerful magical artefacts. Even if destroying them were a matter of simply clicking my fingers, I don’t fully understand what they do or how they would react to my efforts.” I pause. “Things down here are better left alone.”
“Typical. Let me guess, it’s tied into your stupid impartiality somehow?”
The temperature in the already cold room drops another degree. The Arcanaeum doesn’t appreciate his callousness either.
“Not at all. I just respect the dead.”
His grimoire snaps shut, lordly grey eyes roving over me. “You’re too emotionally connected to this place to adequately protect it.”
“You’re treading a dangerous line.”
“Would you rather I protect that dagger or your delicate feelings?”
