Chapter 7
Seven
Kyrith
It seemed rather radical to close the Arcanaeum for the holidays, but the building took the decision out of my hands, and I’m grateful for it.
Almost three weeks of peace has allowed me to come to terms with my new half-life.
Perhaps that’s why the Library did it. All of that time without experiencing a single deathly re-enactment has definitely rejuvenated me, and time apart from the heirs has helped me regain my composure.
The only man I’ve seen since ‘the pizza incident’ has been North, and that was on Christmas Day when Eddy demanded his presence. And it was nice. More than nice. Homey.
I spent most of my break curled up in the world’s most comfortable reading nook, cradling warm mugs of tea as I turned pages with grateful reverence.
I missed paper so much. Showers are a novel experience, and one I’ve wholeheartedly embraced, along with scalding-hot baths.
Soft blankets are gradually taking over my side of the clock tower, although I’ll deny it if anyone asks.
For the first time since I can remember, I feel human. Having the space to reclaim that for myself without dealing with pushy heirs and their dubious motivations has been priceless.
It’s also given me time to get used to the added layer of perception that is having normal senses on top of the Arcanaeum’s.
The first few times Eddy thundered down the stairs unexpectedly, I almost fell over.
Having the building tied to a living body is like developing an entirely new set of senses, and while it isn’t so bad when I’m a ghost, it’s taken some getting used to in my physical form.
The Arcanaeum may have enforced our closure, but it’s rustling with anticipation as the doors begin to open on the second of January, admitting arcanists from across the world.
The new academic term officially begins next week, but nineteen days of closure is the longest in the Arcanaeum’s history.
I am recovered, rested, and ready to get back to work.
Plus…I missed the heirs, as crazy as that sounds. I grew used to their company. Now that I’m alive, I’d like to experience all the emotions they bring with them to their fullest extent.
And yes, I’m vividly aware that I may regret saying that later, given their tendency to vex me.
Hopkinson is among the first to arrive, bouncing towards my desk like it’s not bright and early on a Monday morning. The stampede of other footsteps entering is disconcerting for a second, but I practiced ignoring Eddy’s movements around the building, and I draw on that experience to mute it.
The magister draws up short when he catches sight of me, and I have to stop myself from fiddling with the ruffles around the scooping neckline of my blouse.
Eddy says the outfit we settled on is ‘librarian chic’, which felt a little on the nose, but I do like the way the flared plaid skirt and white airy bell sleeves make me feel when I’m in my physical form.
They don’t look too bad when I’m ghosting either, which I’ve resolved to continue doing while the Arcanaeum is open to patrons.
They’ll get used to my outfit changing, but I think my revival is better kept private. I’m not about to invite questions I don’t know the answers to or broadcast a potential new weakness.
Can I be killed in my physical form?
I have no idea.
I stubbed my toe and felt it. I bled from the paper cut I received while stacking shelves; therefore, I can be wounded.
Returning to my ghost form healed both but drained the Arcanaeum’s reserves infinitesimally.
I’d like to assume that, as long as the building stands, I can’t be killed, but I have no real proof of that, so caution seems prudent.
Especially while we’re caught in the middle of so many quibbling families.
The loss of the cracks will hopefully put to rest any rumours of my instability, at least.
“Librarian…” Hopkinson reaches me, takes in my new outfit curiously, then finally says, “All set for a new term?”
Nice manners, I muse fondly, are criminally undervalued. Younger arcanists would be sticking their noses where they don’t belong, but he’s old enough and wise enough to know when to mind his own business.
“Indeed.” I adjust the ruffled cuffs, frowning as a group of patrons enters the Rotunda from the Bewitching Hall entrance, chattering a little too loudly for my taste.
“I’m happy to continue hosting your lectures if you still wish to hold them here.
Your classroom is ready for you to begin next week. ”
He beams, and I find my own lips quirking in response.
Magic, now I’m smiling. Whatever next?
“Wonderful! I was so hoping you’d say that, but of course, one ought never to be presumptuous—”
Someone clears their throat, and he turns, looking at the line of patrons that’s formed behind him.
“Ah, I’m holding up the queue. Only to be expected, I suppose. I hope you enjoyed your Christmas!”
With a last beaming smile, the magister flounces away, leaving me to face…
A rather hostile Professor Goodberry.
Oh, what now? Please tell me he’s not back to complain about not being allowed to hold classes here again? Before I can open my mouth to offer a strained greeting, he interrupts me.
“What are you playing at?” he demands, folding his arms as he glares at me. “Closing the Arcanaeum for weeks without any notice? This is unheard of. My research was reaching a critical point, and I’ve been completely unable to plan any lessons for the semester.”
I hold my hand up, silencing him. “Access to the Arcanaeum is a privilege, not a right. Plenty of other institutions close for the holidays, and you don’t complain about that.”
“Not the Arcanaeum! Not for weeks! Never in my lifetime has this collection been closed for so long. And for what? So you could go shopping?” His eyes rake over my new outfit with scorn.
“If you were going to inconvenience us all for the sake of fashion, you could at least have given some notice, or allowed the borrowing of books over the holiday—”
“I understand your frustration,” I say, deliberately unclenching my jaw, because I knew this would be an issue. “But I will not continue to engage in this conversation if you cannot calm yourself.”
“Calm myself?” His brows rise. “Librarian, this is—”
“You are aware that making a nuisance of yourself is against the rules.” I summon the copy of the rules that he signed when he first entered all those years ago into the air between us as the Library bristles.
“And nowhere in this agreement does it state that you are entitled to access the Arcanaeum at any point, nor that I am required to give notice when the building needs to shut for repairs or other reasons.”
The Arcanaeum nudges my attention to the spot behind him, where a familiar pair of dark-haired twins has entered the Rotunda. I grimace as North and Eddy take in the queue, and Goodberry, with raised brows.
“Repairs!” an older magister with her hair perfectly coiffed calls from farther down the line. “What utter tripe! The Arcanaeum has never needed repairs before.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the building but the Librarian who was in need of fixing,” Goodberry agrees. “After all, your cracks seem to have miraculously disappeared. The lack of transparency about that whole affair didn’t escape our notice, either.”
My ire rises, but before I can summon his library card into my hand, banish him, and spare myself any further headaches, North appears and leans against my desk. He rolls up one sleeve, then the other, completely at ease and acting as if he has every right to be here.
Beyond him, lingering by the wall, Eddy grins like the Cheshire Cat.
And Goodberry…freezes like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
“Carry on, professor,” North says, and then, when Goodberry continues to gape, he prompts, “You were bitching about shit you aren’t important enough to know.”
The lanky professor shuts his mouth at last, scrambling to gather the dregs of his dignity. “Are you telling me that the Arcanaeum was closed for parriarch business?”
North doesn’t answer, just meets his gaze steadily. Ordinarily, those intent stares don’t work on me. I know they simply mean he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on and is too proud to ask. Goodberry, however, reacts by swallowing and leaning backwards—just slightly.
“Next time, we’d appreciate more notice,” he finally splutters, before turning on his heel.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I mutter. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to banish him.”
“He’s one of my teachers,” North retorts. “I don’t need to listen to him whining about getting kicked out of here next week.”
I snort, but the next person in the line is already approaching.
“If anyone else is going to complain about the Library being closed, you can direct your complaints to Parriarch Ackland rather than wasting the Librarian’s time,” North announces, silencing the man before he can speak. “He’ll be happy to hear your concerns.”
Immediately, half of the patrons in the line disperse.
Oh my. No. He didn’t.
“That’ll piss Josef right off.” Eddy chuckles, her arms full of books as she joins her brother. “Good move.”
“Hey, it’s not like he can complain to Kyrith.” North smirks, and it’s a devilish expression. “He’s not allowed in.”
I will not smile. The image of Josef enduring dozens of complaints about something he was not involved in is not funny, no matter if the Arcanaeum believes otherwise.
The twins have undoubtedly just caused me more drama with the parriarchs in the future. I should be furious.
Library conjures two golden star-shaped stickers and hovers them in front of the twins.
“Stop that,” I grumble. “They’re grown adults, and that was unnecessary.”
“A simple thank you would suffice,” North says, plucking his sticker from the air and adding it to his shirt—just to spite me, I’m sure.
Eddy pops hers on her notebook, blowing the ceiling a kiss in thanks.