“I’ll be fine. Inside this building, I’m untouchable.”
“Are you?” Leo asks. “The Carltons are working for Mathias Ackland. He’s the one person who might actually understand why and how you’re bound to this place, and Pierce deliberately cracked you. You have a body now. Bodies die. What if those two things aren’t unrelated? What if Pierce cracked you to weaken you on Mathias’s orders?”
It’s a theory that has merit, and it sets me to pacing again.
“Nothing will get solved tonight,” Jasper says. “Look, I’ll go home and tell my aunt everything. The clan will protectme, and they’ll protect the Arcanaeum too. They owe you for healing me and granting me Sanctuary.”
I sincerely doubt that Halinor will get that involved, but Jasper’s already shoving to his feet, grabbing his things.
“Someone needs to tell North what just happened,” Lambert realises. “He can’t be out of the loop. Nor can the other parriarchs.”
“My grandfather will want to know,” Leo agrees, a hint of true exhaustion entering his tone.
“I don’t like what Isidora was saying about my uncle,” Dakari grumbles under his breath. “If he’s involved with necromancy, I need to know.”
This is too hasty. We don’t have all of the facts, and they’re rushing off to confront their families.
“Wait,” I interject. “We need more information before you start a war with the Carltons. Yes, there’s a dangerous necromancer on the loose, but he’s been in hiding for centuries. I don’t believe he’s spent that time doing nothing. At the very least, he’ll have a contingency plan should he be discovered.”
“Well, what’s your plan, then?” Leo asks.
I pause, thinking it over a second time, and then a third, before finally saying. “I want to talk to Pierce, and then I suspect I’ll need to speak with Benjamin Carlton.”
Fifteen
Kyrith
Arguing with them is…exhausting. I wouldn’t even say that winning feels like a victory. If anything, watching them leave with promises to keep this to themselves—with the exception of letting North know—is a hollow relief that sinks heavily into my bones.
The Arcanaeum rustles, drawing my attention over my shoulder and back to…Leo…still in his corner.
“What are you…?”
“I’m not leaving.” His tone is flat, cold. Like he anticipates another row. “I know, you can banish me, and I’m politely asking you not to.”
I swallow back my instant retort, taking a deep breath instead. “I assume you have an argument prepared?”
“Several, actually.” His lip quirks. “First and foremost, you shouldn’t be alone after learning that someone who tried to murder you is still out there. Second, I won’t sleep even if I go home, so I may as well be here where I can be productive. And third, I’d like your opinion on my work so far.”
My sigh is long and riddled with unspoken criticisms he chooses not to acknowledge. The Ó Rinn before me is already gaunter than he was a few weeks ago. His eyes are deeper set in his face, adding to the natural menace that falls from him in waves.
He and I… Well, I’d be lying if I said I knew where we stood.
“I have a question before I decide whether to banish you,” I say instead.
His book snaps shut, his piercing eyes drilling into me. “By all means.”
“Does Lambert know you’re his brother?”
“Half,” Leo corrects, not missing a beat. “And who told you that?”
“No one,” I say, stepping closer. “I checked the lineage room because I didn’t understand how you could be so certain that he was the one your curse would take from you. I dismissed the idea at first, because you look almost nothing alike, but…”
There they were, Leo in one book, Lambert in another, connected by a single thread that read: ‘Christine Winthrop, Heir’ and the dates of her birth, marriages, and death.
“My father made my mother leave us, for her own safety,” Leo explains stiffly. “Their marriage was political, which was supposed to spare her, and she moved on quickly, but that didn’t stop him loving her. She chose her second husband for love. A liminal. She redid her life over in the States. Had a new son… I was so jealous of him. He got the family I always wanted.”
Leo lets out a dark, huffing breath.
