She tips her chin up stubbornly, and I know I’m right. I stride past her, and she has to return to her ghost form just to keep up with me. But when the door at the end of the hall swings open, the foyer beyond is…empty?
The floor is littered with discarded grimoires, but there are no arcanists to be seen.
I don’t understand. There was literally just…
A single arcanist drops face-first from the ceiling. I expect him to go splat, but he’s caught by an invisible hand when only inches separate his nose from the floor. A moment later his body drops the rest of the way with a muffled thud, and he scrambles to his feet, snatching his grimoire up indignantly.
Kyrith doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’s now armed, but I tense.
“Librarian, unhand my men this instant!”
His men? Slowly I look up, craning my neck to see the ceiling.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I can’t hold in my snort. There must be at least a dozenmore of these magical military twats up there. Most of them are crushed in awkward positions against the rafters with their mouths sealed shut. One particularly unlucky blonde woman is bent double over a beam, being repeatedly spanked on the ass by a huge tome as her face grows steadily redder and redder.
The noise earns me a scowl from both the Librarian and the man she released, whose grimoire flicks through pages of runeforms without him saying a word.
Kyrith just waves a hand, and the book goes flying.
She puts herself between us, clasping her hands demurely in front of her.
“Kicking or damaging the furniture is against the rules of the Arcanaeum, and that includes the doors, which your men attacked. For that alone, you’re lucky I haven’t banished all of you. It’s only the seriousness of the matter that stayed my hand. Now, dismiss your men, and I shall perform a truth spell on young Northcliff that will clear this matter up without further injuries.”
“Further injuries?” He scoffs. “Librarian, this is?—”
“A reasonable response to aggression directed at the Library,” Kyrith cuts him off. “Now, enough unpleasantness. Testimony under my truth spells has been sufficient for the parriarchs on several prior occasions, a list of which you’ll find here.”
A piece of paper appears between them, and the enforcer frowns as he snatches it out of thin air. “There are allegations of necromancy.”
Kyrith snorts. “Officer Ó Rinn, I can assure you that is not the case, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll ask him about them once the spell is cast.” Then, without so much as a warning, she turns and pins me with a look. “Virecot,”
Just like last time, a compulsive wave sweeps over me like a fog, seeping into my skull before it settles on my tongue with a tingle. It reminds me all over again of trying to break into theVault and Kyrith’s furious reaction. I bite the inside of my cheek to hide the grimace trying to break through. No need to look any guiltier in front of this prick.
“Did you kill Parriarch Josef Ackland?” Kyrith asks without preamble.
I meet the eye of the guy in front of us and smirk as I reply. “No.”
But the asshole isn’t satisfied. “Were you involved in his murder in any way?”
Ugh. “I wasn’t. I had no idea the wanker was dead until I was dragged out of class because of this shit. And for the record, I’ve got no fucking clue how to do necromancy, either.”
Kyrith’s magic fades, and the enforcer takes a step back.
“Now you have the truth,” Kyrith informs him primly.
The officer shakes his head, looking pointedly at the silver letters on the floor. “The truth is a dangerous thing, Librarian. You, of all people, should know that. Release my people, and we’ll be going.”
The roof shakes, beams groaning in protest, and the remaining enforcers drop from the rafters, landing unceremoniously all around us. The woman who was being spanked by a book meets the floor with a sickening crunch, and Kyrith summons her card into her hand with a tut.
“Second strike, Ms Wevill. You’re banished.”
The Librarian presses her finger to the card, and I barely have time to read the name Charlotte before a second red mark scratches itself across the first in an ‘X.’ The woman—who’s unconscious from the fall—is dragged through the nearest door like a rag doll, her card dissipating.
The enforcer sighs. “Was that really necessary?”
Kyrith pins him with the most venomous look I’ve ever seen. “The others I’ll let go with a warning, but the use of fire in the Arcanaeum will never be tolerated. Good day, Officer.”
