Chapter 55 #2
He said he would change things. If this works, it’ll be marvellous. Lambert will have space to focus on magiball, and North will gain a sounding board of several magisters who know more about arcanist culture.
Leo lets the crowd talk for a bit, then continues.
“Taking down Mathias Ackland was a collaborative effort between all six of us, and the Librarian expended vast amounts of her power to help. She put aside her principles of neutrality to single-handedly avert a war between enforcement and aegis, saving countless lives. Before that, she was a fierce ally to liminals during Isidora’s campaign of misinformation and division.
We owe her a huge debt.” His voice roughens towards the end, a crack in the professional mask there and gone before most would even notice.
“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping back from them.
“The damage done to the Arcanaeum in the battle was extensive,” he says, unhearing.
“And the Librarian has been lost to us ever since.” He looks away sharply, hands fisting by his sides.
“It’s our hope that when the building is restored, the Librarian will be, too.
Edlynn Ackland is coordinating volunteers, so if you’re able and willing, please find her and ask how you can help.
“In the meantime, anyone caught taking books, looting, or disobeying the rules of the Arcanaeum will be considered to be actively harming the Librarian and punished accordingly. I promise you; the repercussions won’t be as kind as banishment from the building.”
His dark glare promises pain as he stares down the camera directly in his face. All six of them are doing it, the threat in their expressions barely veiled.
Some of the patrons in the crowd look away under the scrutiny.
“Together, we will rebuild what Mathias and Isidora tried to tear down, and we’ll be stronger for it,” Leo finishes. “There will be more announcements in due course, but right now, our priority is the Arcanaeum. Thank you.”
He turns, heading for the door, the other five following stoically in his wake.
The room grows infinitely louder as the journalists start squawking questions at their backs.
My men don’t answer any of them as they make their escape.
It’s not until they’re across the parapet, away from prying ears, that they even begin to relax.
Pierce is ahead, brows creased in a frown as he heads straight for his room.
He’s been like that since I woke up, scribbling in his grimoire.
I’ve looked over his shoulder a few times, but all I can tell is that he’s working on breaking apart the runeform that was supposed to channel Mathias’s magic into the Arcanaeum—the one that was used when I was sacrificed.
I appreciate the effort, but I wish he wasn’t always so alone. On one occasion, I found him just staring at the box my earrings came in, blinking away silent, stubborn tears.
I tapped them, hoping it would do something, reassure him.
Nothing.
The magic doesn’t work when I’m a ghost. All I could do was offer him an embrace he couldn’t feel and pray that someone came to check on him. They didn’t.
“You need to go and make sure he’s okay,” I say, floating alongside my other bonded as they cross the parapet. “And not just because you’re hungry and he feeds you.”
“You did good, bro.” Lambert claps Leo on the back as they reach the door to the Clock Tower. “Sounded really official.”
“Thanks. I hated every fecking second.” He pauses. “Do you think it will work?”
“Lots of people owed her.” Dakari frowns at the mists over the side of the wall. “More volunteers can’t be a bad thing.”
North’s jaw works as he shoves past them into the tower. “Maybe she’s not coming back. We’ve spent days doing this shit, and no sign of her.”
“Shut your mouth,” Leo snaps. “We’ve barely begun, and the doors are already working. The Arcanaeum’s magical well is massive. It was built from hundreds of sacrificed arcanists. It’s going to take time.”
“Aye. She’s coming back.” Jasper falls onto the sofa, tugging open the top button of his shirt like it’s paining him.
A fight is brewing, but instead of facing it, North rolls his eyes and storms up the stairs. And because I can’t watch them reassure each other about my fate, again, I choose to follow.
How very like him to turn to anger instead of grief. Still, hearing him echo my own fears makes me want to sink into the floor and give up. Instead, I glare at the shelves for the hundredth time, praying that I can make a book move.
It hasn’t happened since their battle with Mathias. I’m beginning to think I imagined holding the balcony in place.
If I could move paper, I’d be able to use a pen. If I could use a pen, I could write them a message. I could communicate.
But should I?
I can’t decide.
Their plan might work. In the absolute best-case scenario, I might get my body back, and the other librarians would return.
At worst, I may remain unable to communicate and languish in a new kind of loneliness for all eternity.
Life rarely works in extremes. It’s more likely I’ll end up like the other librarians did, able to communicate with effort, but otherwise stuck as little more than an invisible force pushing trolleys around. I don’t want the memory of what we had to tether them to a woman they can’t even see.
It would be too painful for all of us.
North stomps all the way up to my room, then falls to his knees at the side of my bed with a feral, frustrated sound, pounding his fist into the mattress.
“Fuck.”
“You’re upset,” I counsel, sitting on the rumpled covers beside him. “But please don’t ruin your friendships with the rest of them in a moment of anger.”
“You should be here, Ice Queen,” he mutters to what he thinks is an empty room. “You should be telling us where to put shit and getting pissy with Eddy for taking liberties with the decorating.”
“I am here.” I stroke his hair out of his face.
The strand stays put, and I sigh.
“They think you’re coming back. Fuck. I want you to. But you’re stubborn and smarter than all of us. If you could, you would’ve by now. No amount of repairs is going to fix this.”
His gold eyes are cold as he looks towards the staircase. The suddenness of the movement makes my fingers pass through his temple, and I draw away. Then he’s on his feet, growling under his breath.
“Fuck this. I’m going for a walk.”