Just like that, the peace and exhaustion of the moment are gone. Replaced by the knowledge that today is the day that Dakari, Pierce, and likely Leo, are going to dinner with the enemy.
“Way to kill the mood,” Lambert complains as I jerk upright. “Boss, you can snuggle us for five more minutes.”
“It’s past opening time,” I realise, with a jolt, staring at the shadows of the metal hands visible through the cloudy glass clock faces. “How late did we sleep in?”
I glance back at the two very naked men in my bed, taking in Lambert’s guilty shrug and North’s unapologetic glare with wide eyes.
The former offers me a small smile. “You needed the rest.”
“There’s a queue!”
“They’ll live.” North rolls his eyes.
I blow out a frustrated breath as I conjure my clothes onto my body. “I can’t believe this…”
How many hours do I have? I was hoping maybe I’d crack the final runeform or at least make enough progress that I could convince Leo not to go. Instead, I did exactly what he accused me of?—
I slam into Lambert’s chest before I even realise I’ve begun to pace.
“Boss, if that look is because of Leo, I swear I’ll beat his ass.” There’s real menace in the threat, which draws me back. Lambert is usually so quick to forgive, but apparently Leo has passed some invisible line for him, too. “You don’t have to feel guilty for looking after yourself.”
I want to deny it. After all, I told myself I wouldn’t beg Leo to return. But he is bonded to the Arcanaeum. As much as I may wish otherwise, his fate and mine are intertwined.
“If I don’t do this…Mathias might kill him,” I whisper my greatest fear. “I don’t want that, and neither do you. He’s your brother.”
“So I’ve heard.” Lambert’s jaw ticks. “From everyone except the man himself. The Leo I used to know would want you to have a life and enjoy it.”
And what about the Leo who exists now? The one who’s lost sight of everything beyond the runeform on his chest?
The answer to my question is written in the grim lines around Lambert’s mouth as I ghost away.
Forty-One
Dakari
Kyrith’s hands move in swift, controlled motions as she answers the patron at the desk in confident BSL, pointing him towards the Bewitching Hall with a smile. Despite North and Lambert making the clock tower shake this morning, she’s wasted no time returning to work. She’s been flitting back and forth between the desk and the Divination Tower all day. Even now, her face tilts upwards, like she’s already planning her return.
It’s probably a good thing that she’s distracted. Otherwise, she might’ve noticed the white cat clawing lazy marks into the side of her desk.
With a gentle magical hand, I nudge Westley over to his scratching post, redirecting his destructive urges. The cat—apparently used to arcanists already—continues his play undeterred. A moment later, a book nudges my elbow, drawing my attention to a small foil-wrapped chocolate on the shelf beside me that wasn’t there earlier.
Evidently the Arcanaeum appreciates my saving the furniture, even if the Librarian’s focus is elsewhere.
I came here to get a kiss from my girl before I head to this awful dinner, and to check that she’s really okay with me going. Using Anthea to try to find Kyrith’s grimoire isn’t my first, second, or third choice. Unfortunately, it’s the only plan I’ve got.
Maybe I should just get going. Interrupting now will probably only add to the dark cloud of stress hanging around her. Thankfully, Eddy, curled up in a chair on my left, is watching her carefully. She still hasn’t really recovered from her migraine, so she’s been quiet, but I trust North’s twin to distract Kyrith if she starts trying to work herself into the ground again.
I turn to go, but the Arcanaeum taps Kyrith on the shoulder with a book, drawing her focus down from the ceiling to me. It ruins my plan to sneak away, but the smile she gives me? Breathtaking.
She drifts over, and I duck between the stacks knowing that she’ll follow. Only when we’re safely surrounded by books do I drag her against me.
“You’re leaving early,” she complains.
I’m not, but I understand. The entire day has flown by, swallowed by the threat of Mathias.
“I wanted a kiss for luck.” I lift her—because she’s short when she’s not gliding a few inches above the floor—pressing her back against the shelves.
She lets me, her lips curling up against mine. Kyrith might be stern to everyone else, but when it’s just us, she melts like chocolate.
