Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
Kyrith
Ihave no idea what Lambert is baking, but it smells divine.
For the last fifteen minutes, he’s been humming and weaving around the kitchen with a cheery kind of ease, completely oblivious to the illegal magic being cast behind him.
The easy contentment wafting from him is infectious. It takes the edge off my nerves as I work, and I’m grateful.
Turning the page of the black book in front of me, I trace the letters of Pierce’s neat handwriting with one finger as I hold my other hand over the blank, but identical grimoire on my right.
In front of me, a jar of ink slowly empties as the diagrams are copied across.
Lambert sees nothing except me poring over papers filled with star charts.
The clatter of a plate being set down by my elbow breaks my focused bubble, then he kisses my cheek and returns to whatever he’s doing behind me.
The two of us are the only ones down here this early, in what’s become our ritual since we returned to the Arcanaeum a week ago. When I get up, he’s already running circuits around the Library or at training. That’s good, because he’s not there to watch me set up my book forging enterprise.
I always have the Carlton heir’s grimoire hidden beneath multiple illusions by the time Lambert returns to the Clock Tower. Not that it really matters much. After his shower, his attention is consumed with baking something for our breakfast. He barely glances at my work.
Thank goodness.
It took three mornings of quiet study while Pierce slept, but I finally managed to duplicate the exact materials needed to recreate the book. Now, almost a week later, I’m so close to being done.
My speed is partly down to how many pages I have to leave out.
Stars, I knew Pierce used necromancy, but until I looked in his grimoire, I never really understood the depths of his involvement.
It’s probably the predominant school in his repertoire, with destruction and ensorcellment a close second. If enforcement ever got their hands on this book, he’d be executed.
Given that discovery, I’m surprised Pierce ever let me borrow it—even reluctantly. Then again, what does he have to be ashamed of? He never wanted to learn any of it.
However, he was very specific that the others can’t know.
I agree.
If this does go badly, if Pierce and I are discovered, there’ll be hell to pay. The other five should be able to swear under a truth spell that they know nothing about his use of dark magic. Ignorance keeps them safe.
As far as they’re aware, I’m working on the spell to destroy the phylactery, which I am, but my progress on that is slower. This is more urgent.
Tomorrow, we’re reopening the Arcanaeum. That will no doubt bring enforcement running. Isidora accused Pierce of using necromancy before she died, and if he can’t disprove it, he’ll be hunted to the ends of the earth.
Even my granting him Sanctuary wouldn’t save him. It would just put the Library at risk.
Thrusting those worries aside, I turn the next page, holding our bond tight in my mind as I begin anew, lips moving on a near-silent incantation. I only have three pages left after this.
Every single runeform is edged with Pierce’s magic, borrowed through our bond, which adds authenticity. The binding rune itself was created with power I skimmed from him when he was sleeping.
I’m also ageing the ink after it dries, which requires complex transmutation spells. It’s necessary to fool anyone inspecting the book into believing the grimoire was put together over many years, rather than cobbled together over days.
My knowledge and our connection work together to make this the most convincing forgery I’ve ever seen.
Doing this without the Arcanaeum is still risky. There are a handful of spells that I won’t be able to fool. Fortunately, I’ve watched enforcement check grimoires before. I know their methods.
The fake will pass an initial check, and probably some of the more invasive ones too.
When the Library is back to normal, we can make it a true replica.
“Eat up while it’s warm,” Lambert prods, as the sound of the tap running intrudes on my work.
I’m in the middle of casting, so I have to finish the page before I turn to examine what he’s made.
“What is it?” I ask, stretching my arms above my head with a yawn.
“Pear and hazelnut.”
I’ve just lifted the muffin to my lips when a creak on the stairs jerks my head up.
What time is it?
My eyes dart to the clock, and I silently curse. I’ve gotten too involved in my work, and now someone else is up early.
Lambert alone isn’t much of a risk. He’s so trusting and unbothered by my work that I never have to worry about him asking questions.
Leo trudges down the stairs, Dakari not far behind. They’re both sleep rumpled, but the sight of Lambert’s baking brightens them up.
Great. If there’s anyone who can see through my illusions, it’s the ó Rinn heir. Add in Dakari’s perceptiveness, and I’ll be lucky to make it through this without one of them realising something is up.
It’s too late to pack away now. All I can do is act like nothing is wrong and pray they’re not awake enough to look too closely.
Taking a casual bite of the delicious muffin, I offer them both a small smile.
Dakari kisses me on his way to the coffeemaker, grumbling as he battles the complicated contraption that’s normally Pierce’s domain. To this day, I haven’t worked out if he actually likes his coffee black or if it’s just the simplest option on the elaborate machine.
Leo, however, moves so he’s standing over the island.
“No luck with the phylactery?” he asks.
I shrug noncommittally. “Some, but it’s slow going.”
When I’m not sneakily stealing and replicating grimoires under their noses, I have actually made good progress on them—ironically, thanks in part to the knowledge I’ve gained from Pierce’s grimoire.
He might not have been taught the complicated constellations in the incantation, but the runeforms he’s written down pointed me in the right direction.
Perhaps I should’ve asked for his help in the beginning, after all…
No. I couldn’t ask it of him. The ones who taught him to use that school also took Benny from him, and that loss is still raw.
Leo hums under his breath. “I can help.”
My eyes go wide before I can school my expression. “Have some breakfast,” I suggest, a little too quickly.
He hesitates, head tilting to one side.
“Boss lady’s right,” Lambert adds around a mouthful of muffin. “You need to try these. I’m actually impressed with myself.”
“You’re always impressed with yourself,” Dakari mutters, but takes one anyway.
“Tell me they’re not good.” Lambert’s smile only grows as the other man swallows and rolls his eyes.
“They’re delicious.” The acknowledgement is grudging.
“Thank you, Lambert…” The Winthrop heir drags the sentence out in a puerile taunt.
I’m almost certain that the only reason Dakari doesn’t smack him for it is the giant, amiable grin on his face, and the plate of muffins held out like an offering between them.
Dakari takes another with a sigh. “Thank you. Now, bake some more because there aren’t going to be any left by the time the others wake up.”
He grabs his coffee, kisses me as he walks past, and settles onto the sofa with a tiny head shake of disbelief.
The lull in their banter drags my attention back to my work.
I freeze.
Leo’s shadow has shifted closer without me noticing. He’s looking down at the island—directly at the place where the books are hidden beneath my illusion—one hand inconspicuously tucked in his grimoire.
There’s a tiny runeform by his left eye, but it’s gone with a blink.
A lead weight settles deep in the pit of my abdomen as his cold stare meets mine.
A silent argument promptly ensues.
His right eyebrow rises in question.
I shift my grimoire over the top of the others.
The corner of his lip curls down, and he runs a hand through his hair. His next look is a warning.
My shoulders stiffen, and the set of my jaw turns stubborn as I momentarily debate ensorcelling him to make him leave me alone.
Leo can only speculate. The page I’m working on is a simple transmutation spell—likely one Pierce inked there to help with the renovations. Sure, only one of our number has a black grimoire, but that’s not proof. The colour is very traditional. It could be any spellbook from the Vault.
I soften as I beg him with my gaze. Please look away. Don’t ask questions I don’t want to give you the answers to.
He has every right to demand an explanation. After all, wasn’t I furious at him for doing things behind my back that had the potential to blow up in our faces?
But this is Pierce’s business, and I’m protecting all of them by hiding it.
Lambert shoves a plate at his brother. “Stop bothering the boss. She comes down this early specifically so she can think without you lot hovering over her.”
I tug at my sleeves. While I have noticed he’s been unusually quiet during our morning routine, I didn’t realise that was because he thought I was seeking out solitude for productivity’s sake.
My heart melts, and I grab his hand as he passes, pulling him down for a grateful kiss.
Leo reluctantly moves aside, heading for his normal chair with a final look at the illusion.
Trying not to let my body slump in relief, I hurriedly copy the final few pages, then flick through once more to check everything is as it should be.
Almost perfect.
The final spell will work better if Pierce is the one to cast it.
I suppose that means it’s time to show him my work.
Taking one long, steadying breath, I slide off my stool, cradling both illusion-shrouded books against my chest as I head for the stairs.
“Taking a break?” Dakari asks.
My smile wavers infinitesimally as I jog up the stairs. “I just need to check something.”
Pierce’s room is on the first landing. He’s probably still asleep, so I whisper the unlocking spell and slip inside—
Only to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, like he was waiting for me.
I pull my spine straighter and force a little more confidence into my step as I approach. The illusion falls away, and I’m left holding out both grimoires.
“The duplicate should work to fool enforcement, but I’d recommend keeping it as a last resort.”
He accepts the books without a word. Those pianist’s fingers trace over the covers, flicking through the thinner volume.
The silence is thick, and I shift my weight from side to side as he inspects it.
“You didn’t have to,” he finally says.
“I wanted to,” I push. “It was important. The Library reopens tomorrow. Mathias is going to do his best to discredit all of us. If what you know comes out, they can cast doubt over all of us. Without the Arcanaeum, it isn’t perfect, so don’t just hand it over if you don’t need to, but—”
“Kyrith.”
I take a deep breath, cheeks heating. “You just need to cast the binding rune on the cover one last time. It’ll set all of the other spells in place. Once the Arcanaeum is back, we can make it foolproof.”
He nods. “Thank you. I know necromancy is evil…I’m sorry you had to deal with so much of it.”
“Necromancy in and of itself is neither good nor bad,” I correct. “No school of magic is. Even restoration can be used to kill, remember? I can’t say what all of the spells in your grimoire are for, but I know a good many of them wouldn’t require a death.”
“I avoided it for as long as I could.” His expression hardens. “Not that it matters. I still bled them for their magic, even if my mother preferred to finish them off herself.”
I perch beside him on the bed. “That’s over now. I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but what I’ve learned from your grimoire has helped with my other projects. The things she taught you are being put to some good.”
Pierce scoffs, but leans against me, accepting the comfort I’m offering.
“Cast it,” I say. “Then come downstairs with me. Lambert has made muffins.”
His eye roll is half-hearted. “Of course he has.”
Pierce might sound unenthusiastic, but he’s just as enamoured by the baked goods as everyone else. He didn’t even test yesterday’s batch for poison.
I wonder if he’s accepted that Lambert truly has no intention of hurting him, or if he simply forgot in his eagerness to eat the biscuits. I hope it’s the former, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
Once the binding is set, and the forgery is concealed safely behind his true grimoire in his holster, he lets me drag him down to the kitchen…and I wait for the scraps to come out. For the food to be tested as it has been before.
It doesn’t happen.
Pierce’s sinful lips close around the muffin, and his jaw works as he chews it. Finally, he rewards the chef with a muttered, “Passable.”
Lambert breaks out in another grin, immediately starting to badger him for more compliments, but I tune him out. My eyes meet Dakari’s, and the quirk at the corner of his mouth tells me he’s noticed the change in the Carlton heir as well.
The progress might be incremental, but we’re getting there.