The only time I get to leave is when my mother summons me, and that isn’t exactly fun.
At least with Eddy, very little thinking is required—beyond stopping her from getting run over.
“Did you even look?” I demand, grabbing her elbow for the tenth time to steer her out of the path of a bus. Unfortunately, I get a handful of theawfulsynthetic fluff of her monstrously oversized cardigan. Worse, it’s damp from the intermittent January rain that has plagued us all morning. Ugh.
I release her with a grimace.
Apparently, today’s outfit is artsy. In reality, it looks like she skinned Mr Blobby and decided to wear him as a coat.
At least the garish colour will make it harder to lose her.
“They’re not going to run me over. Besides, it’s a crossing.”
We’re a good twenty feet away from the stripes on the road to our left, and my unimpressed glare tells her so.
“If it happens again, I’ll let you get hit,” I grunt, shoving past her.
The cutesy market town the Arcanaeum chose to dump us in is disgustingly quaint. It’s the kind of place the elderly love and young people abandon as soon as they come of age. There’s even Union Jack bunting.
Now, as Eddy pulls me towards the shambling little row of craft stores, I have to stop myself from grinding my teeth.
“We’ve already been in here,” I protest.
Sure, it was hours ago, before the manicure and the nauseating inept tarot reader, but I remember the rainbow display.
“I decided I wanted that gold shimmer paint after all.”
More likely, she just wants to spend as much time as possible outside of the Library before she’s cooped up again. I can almost sympathise. Groaning, I eye the coffee shop opposite. No big chains here. Perhaps that improves my chances of getting something better than the watery instant shit I’ve been drinking recently.
I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed my coffee.
“Fine. I’ll be in there.” I jerk my thumb towards the café. “Don’t get killed.”
There’s outdoor seating. It should be simple enough to keep an eye on her.
Northcliff’s sister is already gone, the bell above the art store door tinkling as she dives back into the world of glitter and paintbrushes. And she’s left me with all of her bags. Great.
Thankfully, the barista doesn’t try to smile at me as he delivers my coffee. I take a seat at a rickety outdoor table, hating the damp that seeps through into my bones. Could shenot have picked a sunnier day to do this? At least the breeze has warmed up a bit.
Why the Library picked here of all places is beyond me. It was probably the Librarian, punishing me for pushing her buttons down in the Vault. She’s been avoiding me since.
Small mercies.
I don’t know what possessed me to sign that contract. Jealousy? Possibly.
After all, why should the other heirs get to enjoy a gorgeous woman and I be stuck on the fringes?
I’m well aware that Kyrith only offered it to me out of a sense of obligation. The famously impartial Librarian refuses to pick one house over the others, even in this. If she wants to cling to her precious neutrality so badly, she can live with the consequences.
It seems only fair, given that the rest of us have endured the repercussions of her inaction for our entire lives.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had the time to indulge in anything beyond a casual relationship. Why would I bother, when my mother and Mathias studied everything I did? Anyone I give a damn about tends to end up sacrificed. After all, everything in this life is impermanent, except power.
My hand clenches on the cooling cup as I remember the last one. Mrs Beck, the elderly neighbour who snuck me treats when my mother wasn’t looking.
Isidora turned the other cheek for years, and I chose to believe that meant she was safe.
No. It turned out she was just saving the old woman for my first human sacrifice. It was another test.
