Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Kyrith
Westley is annoying.
Why does the feline feel the need to curl around my ankles or swat at my skirts whenever I’m within striking distance? Worse, why does he insist on charming the patrons?
Hopkinson has started sneaking cat treats into the building. I’ve been turning a blind eye, but if any of the other patrons start, I’ll need to put my foot down. This is getting out of hand.
“You are a pest.” I pet Westley’s little white head with a groan. “And Lambert needs to answer for bringing you here.”
The cat has taken a spot on my lap, and now he’s distracting me from the sheets of paper spread out in front of me.
Pierce’s contract is filled in with immaculate looping black penmanship. Boxes crossed, additional details section meticulously detailed with what he wants in a relationship.
And reading it…confuses the living daylights out of me, because he’s been sincere. Either this is some elaborate scheme to humiliate me or…
“I just don’t understand him.”
Why would anyone who regards me with such scorn go to the trouble of filling this out? Does he even want me?
“I should slip another potion into his tea,” I murmur as the cat rolls around on my lap, sinking his little claws into my thigh. “Maybe I’ll do it with all of them.”
I seem to have misjudged just how complicated this contract would make things. But I didn’t come up here to my room to obsess over them. I’m here because I want answers.
With a wave of my hand, Pierce’s contract is filed away, leaving me free of distractions.
Closing my eyes, I reach for the core of power within me.
If Mathias Ackland has my grimoire, I want to know why he hasn’t used it against me. If Benny thinks that I’ve created bonds to the heirs, I need to know how deep they go. Knowledge wins wars, and it’s painfully obvious that I’m missing key pieces of this puzzle.
That can’t be allowed to stand.
It only takes a few moments to remind me why I don’t do this often. My power is indistinguishable from the Arcanaeum’s, and the Arcanaeum’s is vast. Vast and messy. A Gordian Knot that never fails to overwhelm me.
Thousands of books are tied to the well of power I share with the building.
Hundreds of tiny threads fraying out from the immense ball of yarn that is our magic.
The grimoires in the vault stand out like glowing stars, tethered to the Library by thicker strands.
Some of them are brighter than others—those are the ones I use regularly to cast spells.
I need to find one which has never been used to cast at all.
Far away, my lips part on an agonised sigh, but I’m so deep inside my own mind that it barely registers.
Somewhere in the middle of the search, I notice the first loose thread. Only…it’s not a thread. It’s too thick, almost like a rope.
“What in the world…?”
There doesn’t appear to be anything connected to the other end at first glance.
When I reach out to touch it, I jerk.
Lambert.
This thread feels like Lambert. Strange. I’d never considered myself well acquainted enough with his magic to recognise it so instantly, but the eager sunshine is unmistakable. It looks like a loose cord because I can’t see him on the other end, but he must be there.
This must be the bond Benny talked about. I’ve barely released it when I find another. This one is proud and standoffish.
Pierce.
They’re all here. Seven loose threads, tied to the Arcanaeum’s magic—to my magic—and yet separate from it.
Benny was right. All six heirs and the dagger are connected to the Arcanaeum and me. The dagger strongest of all. A direct line. Not a heart, but a key forged by channelling dozens of sacrifices.
Worse, I can’t see any way to sever any of them from the Library. They might not be fully enmeshed with it like I am, but they’re linked. I can’t cut it because I can’t see them.
I think… I think they could draw from the Arcanaeum—from me—if they needed to. That must go both ways, since the Arcanaeum stole power from them to break the time loop. The closer I look, the more obvious it becomes that the Library is treating them like books.
Maintaining them.
Magic only knows what this means for them. For their lifespans. The Library keeps the collection in good condition, so if I had to guess, I’d say it’s doing the same for the heirs.
I’ve barely started studying them when Dakari’s bursts into blazing brightness. The connection snaps taut as he appears at the other end of the rope. His magical well is immense for an arcanist. If I try, I can see his grimoire, linked to him by a separate thread.
I disentangle myself from the trance, worry eclipsing everything until I recognise the sensation of being surrounded by strong arms.
He’s pulled me into his lap. Westley—apparently unhappy with the adjustment—leaps from where he was napping in my skirts, but neither of us pays the cat any mind.
Touching me makes me physical, but it also links the heirs to the Arcanaeum’s magical well, and by extension, to me. Damn. Is that why they can force me to switch out of my ghost form?
It makes sense. They cracked me when they touched me for the same reason.
Mystery solved, I dive back into the trance rather than face Dakari. I need answers. I need to find my grimoire. Without it, there’s a possibility I won’t be able to break Leo’s curse. We’ll need to find someone else, and—
There.
A withered thread.
My grimoire is so loosely anchored to the Arcanaeum that it appears on the verge of floating away. I suppose that’s not surprising. I never used it. It’s been five hundred years since I even laid eyes on it.
Which would explain why Mathias hasn’t been able to wield it against me.
The bond between the book and me is far too weak. It would grow over time if I regularly cast from it, but right now…it would be no different from using any other random grimoire to break into the Arcanaeum.
Unfortunately, the weakness of that tether makes attempting to locate it impossible.
Satisfied, I draw out of the trance, slowly forcing my awareness back into my fingertips. My toes. The warmth at my back steals my attention, and Dakari’s lips brush the column of my neck.
“You back?”
“How could you tell?”
I feel his shrug against my spine. “Your breathing changed. Are you okay?”
My cheeks flush. “You’re too observant.”
“You’re deflecting.”
Because I need to process what I’ve just learned. I need to work out how to tell this man about the inchoate connection between us. Magic, I need to tell all of them.
None of them will like this.
I’m not sure I like it either. Such bonds are likely to deepen with time and repeated connections. The more we touch, the more magic is exchanged between us… Who knows what the ramifications could be?
It definitely warrants further study.
“I can’t tell you where my grimoire is,” I say. “I tried to find it, but whatever link I have to it is weak.”
Dakari nods.
“Are you still planning to go to dinner at Carlton Manor?”
“Only if it doesn’t bother you.”
“You don’t need my permission.”
He raises that scarred brow. “I wasn’t asking for it, but I respect your feelings on the matter.
Anthea means less than nothing to me, but that probably won’t stop our families from shoving us together, or her trying to play the role of fiancée.
I might have to play along to get her alone, so I can knock her out and search for your grimoire. ”
He might have to seduce her, he means.
My spine straightens, and he kisses the side of my neck again.
“I won’t touch her, but if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll tell my uncle to shove it and find another way in.”
But using Anthea would be the safest, and it would get his uncle, the rector, off his back. If he were to sneak in, the risk of discovery would be too high, and he was wounded last time when he broke Jasper out.
No, it’s better to catch the Carltons off guard, even if the idea of him around another woman sets my teeth on edge.
“Do it,” I murmur, turning my head to capture his lips with mine. “But don’t take any risks.”
His hand comes up to cup my jaw, keeping me in place as he kisses me again, deeper this time, imprinting his taste into my very cells. Beneath my ass, the length of him stirs, and I rotate my hips, twisting to reach more of him. Somehow, I end up straddling him—
Just in time for the Arcanaeum to tug sharply on my attention.
I’m so caught up in Dakari that it’s a struggle to pull back and focus.
Someone is coming up the stairs.
I barely manage to drag our faces apart before Leo makes it to the top and catches sight of us.
“For fecks sake!” he growls, turning on his heel. “First Pierce, now the bloody Talcott? And on the same day? Do you plan to deal with the lich, the ensorcellment, or the Carltons this century? Or do we need to wait for—”
“Shut it.” Dakari shifts me out of his lap, planting himself squarely between me and Galileo like a shield. “Before your temper makes you say something you’ll regret.”
His words are heavy with the threat of violence, despite the covenant.
I rise to my knees, putting my hand on his shoulder to move him out of the way, but he’s a rock beneath my palm. Unmoving. Protective. It would be sweet if I needed protecting from Leo. Unfortunately, he’s just making this worse.
Galileo belts out a humourless laugh, throwing his head back in disbelief.
The light streaming through the clock faces on all sides plays across his features, lending them more sharpness than usual as he replies, “My temper? You’re one to talk.
Last time you threw a tantrum, you levelled an entire fecking village! ”
“That was different.” I’m amazed that Dakari’s tone doesn’t rise to match Leo’s. “I was younger than you, and I learned a valuable lesson.”
Leo rolls his eyes. “What? How much power it takes to destroy everything within a mile?”
“No. How easy it is to hurt others when you act without thinking.”
The words are deep, full of warning, and yet… I don’t think Leo is in any place to listen.