Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
Kyrith
My nod to Dakari is slow. Reluctant.
It’s just the two of us up here. Everyone else either went to class or started going about their routines as usual so as not to arouse suspicion.
Everyone except for Pierce. I haven’t seen him since he came for the dagger in the early hours of the morning.
No one has asked about him, or why I no longer have the heart and Mathias’s soul vessel, further solidifying my hunch that they know what’s really happening. They trust me to make the right call, and they love me enough to let their suspicions go.
Pierce should be safe. He’s alone, but he’s strong and cunning.
There’s no reason to panic.
Mathias has no idea where he is. The lich will be more interested in the fact that he’s no longer banished and hasn’t been for over three hours now.
There’s no way he’s unaware. His library card will have reappeared in front of him for the first time in centuries, letting him see the strikes as they were revoked.
We may as well have rung a dinner bell.
He just needs to answer it.
I suspect the only reason he hasn’t already is because he’s aware this could be a trap.
Breaking the building, completing the destruction that we’ve been carefully accelerating for days now, and allowing the aegis to seize it, is the only way to convince him otherwise.
He knows I’d never allow the Arcanaeum to be destroyed, and he doesn’t want the Library turned to rubble either.
I’m relying on his need to possess the knowledge within and his own hubris to ensure he shows.
If he doesn’t…
If he doesn’t, then everything he’s doing will only get worse. Even if Pierce destroys the phylactery, is there anything that will stop him making another? We don’t know enough about necromancy to say for certain.
It’s also clear that, while possessing the Arcanaeum was one of his goals, rolling back every ounce of equality that liminals have garnered in the last few centuries is another of them. Things will only get worse unless we end this.
“Are you sure?” Dakari asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I swallow. “Do it.”
We don’t have much time until the aegis arrives. It has to be now.
His hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing, but he doesn’t ask me again. His other palm is flat against his grimoire, and the hum of the power he’s channelling resonates through our bond.
The ground beneath my feet trembles, and his grip becomes supportive as I stumble. His body is glowing. The sheer power tumbling from him is at once awe-inspiring and heart-breaking.
The last time he used this much magic he was an enraged teenager, lashing out at his parents, and his brother was hurt as a result. Now he’s a man, his control honed to a deadly blade.
No part of me is scared for the people below.
I wish I could say as much for the Arcanaeum.
From our vantage point on the parapet, I watch as the dome over the Rotunda cracks like an egg.
Stained glass falls like rain from the roof as the shutters on the cupola flap wildly.
The windows of the tower to our right shatter.
There’s a shocked pause where the Library continues to shudder, and then the screams start.
Patrons are yelling. Students rush to the nearest doors in their haste to escape.
My eyes are everywhere at once, horrified and yet…unable to look away from the complete destruction of my home.
My heart squeezes and I stroke the smooth stone of the parapet. I’m so sorry, old friend.
Even the mist retreats from the building, like it’s fleeing the carnage, only to sweep back over the wreckage, thicker than before.
Inside, Eddy, Hopkinson, and some of the other professors are probably already organising the evacuation of our patrons. The rest of our people are scattered across the Library, well-shielded, waiting…
I don’t expect Mathias to come alone—or even immediately. He has the aegis as his pawns. It’s likely that he’ll swoop in once he’s certain of victory. That’s what happened at Fort McKinley.
In fact, I’m counting on it.
The books are safe. I’ve been meticulous about their protection. No matter what magic is unleashed within these walls, they won’t be touched. Westley has been entrusted to Jasper’s mother’s care for the day.
There’s no going back now.
“Baby girl?” Dakari asks, and I blink.
“Sorry?”
“Do you still want to go down there?”
I nod, glancing at the Rotunda again. They’ve all tried, at some point or another, to convince me to hide away, worried that Mathias will find me.
But I won’t hide anymore. I’m powerful. I know more magic than any of them.
It would be more irresponsible of me to stay hidden and allow a bunch of young arcanists to do battle in my stead.
There’s still a chance that this can be resolved without risking the destruction of the books. I have to try.
“We wait.”
The screams have devolved into yells, but I’ve yet to hear the tell-tale noise of magical battle.
That’s good. Maybe the plan is working.
“Keep the aftershocks going,” I add, even as my stomach threatens to rebel against the order. “I don’t think everyone is out yet.”
“They’re out.” He leans on the wall and peers down through the shattered roof of Botanical Hall. “That’s the aegis arriving.”
Ice forms in my veins. He’s right. They’re storming through in organised lines, yelling out orders to non-existent patrons. Blanche’s people are hidden and have instructions to remain that way until everyone is in the Rotunda.
As far as the aegis are concerned, they’ve entered an abandoned building.
The floors have been spelled to shriek if Mathias joins them.
I wait, breath frozen in my lungs, for the flare of magic that will announce his arrival… but…
It doesn’t come.
Good. That’s good. That gives me time to reason with them. To stop this.
Only, a door opens beside me. My breath catches in my throat.
Dakari is in front of me in the next second, protecting me with his body as the pages of his grimoire rustle menacingly.
I crane my neck to look around him, just in time to see Anthea Carlton step onto the parapet.
Pierce’s sister has never looked less elegant in her life. Cheap clothes hang off her frame in unflattering lines that she would never have tolerated before she went on the run. Her hair is down, hanging limply to her shoulders. The grimoire at her hip is a plain ugly brown.
But that angry fire in her eyes?
That hasn’t changed.
If anything, it’s only gotten brighter.
“Librarian. Parriarch Talcott.” She grins. “So nice of you to invite me back.”