Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Kyrith
Leading Pierce across the parapet seems like an admission of failure.
I went into that meeting smug in the certainty that I had the upper hand.
I drugged their tea and read all that I could about liches.
Now, I’m reeling. On top of all those revelations, I’ve now got to come to terms with the possibility that I might have six housemates by the end of this—seven, if North decides to drag Eddy back here.
“It’s magiball night tonight,” I find myself saying, just to fill the stiff silence. “There won’t be much time to get you settled in.”
Magic, the tower is so much bigger than it was before. Previously, it narrowed towards the top, but that’s changed. Now it rises straight and true into the night, taller than ever. The great round clock faces also seem larger, and I dread to think what that means for my bedroom.
When I push open the door, the shelves and small snug from before have been replaced with a large, open-plan living area.
Somehow, the Library has managed to fit a kitchen, a dining table, and a huge corner sofa into the new space.
There’s still a comforting mixture of stained-glass windows, bookshelves, and a few of the Arcanaeum’s random doors tucked into the space.
The stairs have switched to rest against the far wall, and there’s even a massive Chesterfield armchair that I suspect Leo will take over as soon as he sees it.
I can picture North sprawled across the settee, Lambert baking in the kitchen, and Dakari and Jasper with their heads pressed together at the large island.
All in all, it’s homey.
Then I catch the hum of electricity and freeze.
Is that a modern fridge? And a freezer? Oh, magic. That’s an induction hob and, worse…a television.
Suppressing a full-body shudder, I fix my arms close to my sides and abandon my ghost form. Every single one of those things will fry when I glide through them. It’s only a matter of time. We’ll be replacing them constantly.
How is the Arcanaeum even powering all of this?
The building helpfully nudges my attention to the roof, where brand new solar panels have been installed on the Welsh slate.
There’s no sun here, but there must be enough diffused light to produce energy.
Of course, the fog is probably impacting their efficacy, but there are so many that I doubt it’s an issue.
“We are going to talk about this later,” I hiss under my breath.
“Later,” Pierce agrees, misinterpreting my threat as being aimed at him. “I take it my room is up there?”
He’s already heading for the staircase along the far wall, shrugging off his suit jacket as he goes, followed by his tie.
Artfully dishevelled is a good look on him, but his posture is stiff and uninviting, so I force my gaze away.
“Make yourself at home,” I grumble as he disappears.
The Arcanaeum distracts me by tugging me up to the clock room.
I dread to think what awaits me up here, but as I rematerialise in the middle of the room, I relax incrementally.
Some small part of me expected there to be a sex dungeon, or something equally obscene, but that’s not the case.
Sure, the bed is a lot bigger than it was, and the heart-shaped throw pillows are obnoxious, but the essence of my room remains the same.
The belfry above is hidden by a fresco of starlit clouds.
My armchair has been replaced by a modern monstrosity, which promises to swallow me so completely that I never want to leave.
“I suppose you think this is terribly clever.” I cross my arms over my chest as I address the building.
Far from being quelled, the clock hands whiz around on the four dials with amusement.
“We may as well open a hotel.” I pace the room, ignoring the comforting thunks of the timekeeping mechanism. “And why are there rings on the headboard? What kind of—”
In answer, one of my racier reads—one with the alpha heroine staring out of the cover beside her black wolf—appears atop the quilt.
“Just because she tied her men to the bed doesn’t mean I have plans—”
Another book falls on top. Then another.
All of them containing bondage. And the pile just keeps growing.
“Stop it!” I grumble. “Just because I have a fantasy does not mean—”
“Fantasy?” Lambert interrupts, his voice too close for comfort. “What fantasy?”
With a snap of my fingers, I summon a throw blanket over the pile that just keeps growing on the bed, then whirl to face him.
“Cute room,” he says, grinning.
He’s ready for the game, I notice, taking in his man bun and his uniform. His jacket is slung over his arm, and in his hand is a familiar piece of paper.
My cheeks blaze with heat.
“Did you send that contract to all of them?” I demand furiously of the shelves on my left. “I cannot believe—”
“Hey, boss, it’s cool. Don’t worry. I already filled it out, and Google helped with the long words.”
That is not what I’m worried about, and it only gets worse when Lambert pulls me into a hug and adds. “North is filling his out downstairs, and I think Jasper finished his already.”
“Lambert. Stop. Talking.” I take the paper just to silence him, all too aware of the books that are still falling onto the bed behind me. “This wasn’t ready. I was going to…”
I trail off, because the truth is I was mostly finished. All I probably would’ve done was reword some parts. And over-thought it. And maybe ripped it up and never looked at it again.
Lambert doesn’t respond, and when I frown, he mouths, “Can I talk yet?”
Shoulders slumping, I nod.
“I thought it was really good. The tick boxes were a nice touch. Everyone loves multiple choice.”
Those, of course, had been the Arcanaeum’s doing. I’d almost objected to such a clear-cut list of sex acts, growing steadily more and more kinky as they neared the end of the page, with four tick-boxes, two for me and two for him, to indicate interest in both giving and receiving.
It seemed…ridiculous how open I was to trying all of it. Part of me is still waiting for them to judge me for some of the things I admitted. Or the empty boxes I added at the bottom, in case there were acts or kinks I’d not considered or read about.
But…I’ve done a lot of reading in the last five hundred years. I’ve had a lot of time to fantasise and ponder. Plus, interest doesn’t guarantee enjoyment. I just want to try everything once. Is that so bad?
Lambert gives the contract a pointed look, and I oblige him by skimming the page on exclusivity and contraception, noting that his answers are the same as Dakari’s.
The only one I doubt knows about the potion is Northcliff, and I make a note to tell Eddy about it too. She shouldn’t be forced to endure inept medicine when a side-effect free magical birth control exists.
I pause when I notice he’s refused to select any of the termination options, and an extra clause has been added on the third page.
“You want me to wear that for all of your games?”
Magic, he’s already holding the jacket out in offering.
“And if I win a game, reward me.” He grins, bouncing on his feet. “It doesn’t need to be a sex thing if you’re not in the mood. I love back rubs too! Or hot chocolate. Or even just a smile?”
“It says here ‘blowjobs.’”
“That was just a suggestion! In case, you know…they were on the table?”
One of my favourite things about him is that if I just wait here for long enough, staring expectantly, he’ll dig himself deeper and deeper into a hole, growing more and more flustered as he practically vibrates with nerves.
“It’s not assumed consent, I swear. More like a…hopeful request?” He finishes the last like a question. “I mean, that striptease you gave me was the hottest experience of my life, and I just thought maybe—”
“Lambert?”
“Yes, boss?” His voice hitches.
“I’m happy to celebrate your victories with you. However, blowjobs are only on the table if your team wins without losing any points.”
A gleam enters his eye, and I second-guess the wisdom of my words. But no. Surely, even with Lambert as the team’s reaper, the scorers are the ones responsible for the end result. He’d have to score, finishing the game before they dropped the beta once.
That’s not to say I don’t want to give him one, or that I won’t even if he doesn’t achieve the impossible task I’ve set. But if I’ve learned anything about Lambert, it’s that sometimes he thrives off a little extra motivation.
“Deal,” he agrees. “But… Do I still get other rewards?”
“Yes.”
I let him wrap the jacket around my shoulders, basking in the warm scent of him, then shock him by rising to my tiptoes and claiming a kiss.
When I pull back, his smile is blinding. “You’re adorable in my clothes. Now, get ready to watch the fastest game of magiball you’ve ever seen in your life!” he promises, vaulting over the banister in his haste to leave.
Snorting, I aim one last exasperated eye roll at the pile of books on my bed, then ghost my way downstairs, only to find an exhausted North sitting at the dining table.
He’s chosen the end not cluttered with my pages of work on Leo’s degraded runeform and is flicking through his own copy of the contract with an agitated frown.
“Is this a condition of Sanctuary?” he asks the second I appear. “Because if fucking you is a condition of my sister’s safety, I’d rather be clear about it in advance.”
I flinch at the hostility in his tone, almost dropping Lambert’s contract in shock.
“What in magic’s name gave you that idea?” I retort. “I only wrote that because of Lambert’s foolish suggestion. It’s not an obligation. That’s why the platonic friendship option is right there on the first page!”
I’m not about to make him prostitute himself for protection. Dear stars alive. I’m honestly offended that he thinks so little of me.
North’s head falls into his hand, and the rigid cast of his shoulders eases incrementally. “Sorry. I just… Yeah.” He sighs. “Bad day.”
“Northcliff,” I begin. “You realise I am not here to blackmail you. I am trying to help you both.”