He’s desperate and has no other options,I correct silently, smoothing the paper out on the side table that rises a few inches, tilting to become a lectern. Last time, I didn’t dare touch him for fear of cracking further, but it will simplify the transfer of magic from my body to his and free up my mind to focus on the spell.
It’s a valid reason.
So why do I find it so hard to meet his eyes as my fingertips skim the line of his mark, tracing down to the centre of the glowing runeform?
He’s so warm, his muscles hard and unforgiving, the counterpoint to the cool, fragile paper beneath my other hand. He might be thin from neglect, but the lack of body fat has thrown his chest into sharply sculpted relief.
Maybe I pause a little too long, because he tilts his head, drawing my focus back to his face and the microscopic smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Briekshillri vielliu scarsi…” I murmur, pushing the embers of attraction from my mind and focusing on the nullification spell.
Magicflares. Power swells between my fingertips and seeps into his skin and the parchment, heating the point where we connect until I may as well have sunk both hands into lava. I don’t pull away. Lambert hovers around us as the paper runeform starts to smoke, filling my nostrils with the scent of sulphur and burning. Still, I don’t lift my hand away, even when numbness tingles at my fingertips and flames smoulder at the edges. Leo isn’t much better. The runeform on his chest is searing.
Stubbornness alone keeps me upright as weakness settles in my limbs, dizziness swamping me. Magic surges as I utter the final syllables of the incantation on a gasped breath.
Done.
I stumble back as the red glow of Leo’s mark intensifies, then cuts out entirely. Only Lambert’s quick reactions keep me from falling. I’m too busy holding my breath to thank him, struggling to see past the blurry sunspots clouding my vision. The runeform on Leo’s chest fades away like mist.
Replaced with something…horrifying.
My knees sag,and Lambert’s hold on my waist grows firmer until he gives up on supporting me and sweeps me into his arms instead. The move sends stinging pain racing from my fingers to my spine. At some point, Leo must have passed out. The lines of agony and tension are still entrenched in his features even in unconsciousness.
It’s probably for the best. It means he doesn’t hear Lambert’s soft curse or see my wince.
Because instead of being replaced by a single new runeform, as Ammie’s grimoire told us it would be, there are four. Three smaller glyphs are interlocked with a larger one in the centre.
“Boss?” Lambert ventures. “Are you okay?”
I try to nod, but my head seems to have been filled with lead. Surely it wasn’t this heavy a few minutes ago?
He lowers to a crouch, carefully depositing me on the floor so I’m leaning against Leo’s legs, and takes my hands in his one by one.
My palms and fingertips are red raw and blistered, which explains the pain when he picked me up. They’re healing, thanks to the Arcanaeum, but it will still be a few minutes until my skin is completely back to normal.
The paper that hosted the runeform I was using has been reduced to a pile of black ash. At least I made copies before I cast anything, so my work isn’t lost, but still. I covered that thing with so many fortifying runeforms. It shouldn’t have been this bad.
That it was speaks to the strength of Leo’s curse.
“I really need to find my grimoire,” I mumble, twisting to keep my eyes on Leo, as the beams above us let out a mournful creak.
Ordinarily, it doesn’t matter. It’s rare that I need a spell that hasn’t been written in one of the grimoires in the Vault. But if I’m going to continue creating new powerful spells, having my own is the only way to avoid burns.
“Did that happen because you haven’t got one?” Lambert queries.
“Grimoires which have been properly attuned to their owners are more efficient. If I’d had mine, and I’d been using it for long enough, the magical energy wouldn’t have been lost as heat when casting the spell. Or at least, not to the same degree.”
Occasionally, more costly or complex magic will release wasted energy as light, but overall, grimoires do not catch fire like scraps, even when under duress from incredibly powerful spells. Transmutation experts, like Lambert, can summonfrom their runeform tattoos with no wasted energy whatsoever.
If only I hadn’t placed the binding rune on the cover before my death. I could’ve simply chosen a new grimoire. I theoretically still could, but the second grimoire would never bond to me as deeply, never be as efficient, and the problem would remain.
And so long as the first still exists, it remains connected to me. More unscrupulous arcanists could use it against me.
By the time I was well-read enough to be concerned about such things, the few arcanists who even knew I’d possessed a grimoire were dead. I really ought to ask one of the collectors to search for it. It never seemed worthwhile before, but with Mathias still alive, that might’ve been an oversight.
Surely if he had it, he would’ve used it against me by now?
Leo groans quietly as he starts to stir, disrupting my train of thought. Unfortunately, the movement brings my gaze back to the warped runeform on his chest. It’s so much bigger than the previous one, and so different from Ammie’s original design.
