Chapter 41
Forty-One
Dakari
Kyrith’s hands move in swift, controlled motions as she answers the patron at the desk in confident BSL, pointing him towards the Bewitching Hall with a smile.
Despite North and Lambert making the clock tower shake this morning, she’s wasted no time returning to work.
She’s been flitting back and forth between the desk and the Divination Tower all day.
Even now, her face tilts upwards, like she’s already planning her return.
It’s probably a good thing that she’s distracted. Otherwise, she might’ve noticed the white cat clawing lazy marks into the side of her desk.
With a gentle magical hand, I nudge Westley over to his scratching post, redirecting his destructive urges.
The cat—apparently used to arcanists already—continues his play undeterred.
A moment later, a book nudges my elbow, drawing my attention to a small foil-wrapped chocolate on the shelf beside me that wasn’t there earlier.
Evidently the Arcanaeum appreciates my saving the furniture, even if the Librarian’s focus is elsewhere.
I came here to get a kiss from my girl before I head to this awful dinner, and to check that she’s really okay with me going. Using Anthea to try to find Kyrith’s grimoire isn’t my first, second, or third choice. Unfortunately, it’s the only plan I’ve got.
Maybe I should just get going. Interrupting now will probably only add to the dark cloud of stress hanging around her.
Thankfully, Eddy, curled up in a chair on my left, is watching her carefully.
She still hasn’t really recovered from her migraine, so she’s been quiet, but I trust North’s twin to distract Kyrith if she starts trying to work herself into the ground again.
I turn to go, but the Arcanaeum taps Kyrith on the shoulder with a book, drawing her focus down from the ceiling to me. It ruins my plan to sneak away, but the smile she gives me? Breathtaking.
She drifts over, and I duck between the stacks knowing that she’ll follow. Only when we’re safely surrounded by books do I drag her against me.
“You’re leaving early,” she complains.
I’m not, but I understand. The entire day has flown by, swallowed by the threat of Mathias.
“I wanted a kiss for luck.” I lift her—because she’s short when she’s not gliding a few inches above the floor—pressing her back against the shelves.
She lets me, her lips curling up against mine. Kyrith might be stern to everyone else, but when it’s just us, she melts like chocolate.
It’s a privilege to be her safe harbour.
So when she leans back and there’s still stress swirling in the depths of her eyes, I curse Leo all over again.
“I’ve not finished the ensorcellment,” she whispers. “I’m so close, I must be, but—”
“He chose his path. Leave him to it.”
“I can’t do that when he’s connected to the Arcanaeum.”
“Is there no way to cut him loose?”
She shakes her head. “Maybe he won’t go.”
Fat chance. If the ó Rinn heir thinks Mathias can break this curse, he’ll be at that dinner.
Now I need to keep the dumbass safe on top of everything else.
I don’t know what’s possessed him to do this.
He can’t seriously think he stands a chance against the lich, or that Mathias will work even half as hard as Kyrith to break that ensorcellment.
He’s putting our Librarian at risk, which is unacceptable.
“It’s just a precaution,” I suggest slowly, unsure how she’ll take the idea. “But would you consider closing early tonight and locking the Arcanaeum down?”
The patrons weren't thrilled about the Arcanaeum closing over Christmas, and I know she's been receiving complaints about adjusting the hours for the parriarchs as well, but this is important.
“What if you need—?”
“You’ve given us plenty of help already. Even if you hadn’t loaded us up with charms and potions, I’ve gotten myself out of tight spots before, and Pierce can look after himself. Jasper and North are the ones we need to worry about.”
It’s a deliberate move, playing on her protectiveness. The raised brow she offers me says she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“My plan is to get Anthea alone after dinner, knock her out in her room, and search for your grimoire,” I explain. “It should be simple.”
Anthea won’t suspect a thing, because in her fucked-up Carlton mind, there’s no way anyone doesn’t want her.
“I hate it,” she admits. “But you won’t let it get far?”
“I don’t even intend to let her kiss me if I can help it,” I tell her. “I won’t touch her.”
“Good.” She kisses me again.
Is it weird that I’m delighted by her possessiveness? Possibly.
Releasing her gets harder and harder each time, but I reassure myself it’s just for tonight. One dinner with my uncle and the damned Carltons, and then it’s over. I’ll probably stay out until the Arcanaeum reopens, then head up to her room, and we can crash together.
I’ll kick Lambert out if I have to.
“Stay safe,” she whispers, and I barely refrain from ordering her to do the same.
She’s powerful and smart. She’ll be fine.
I’m pretty sure the queasy feeling in my gut is just a response to the thought of Anthea putting her grabby little hands anywhere near my body. Or maybe it’s just the thrill I get whenever she sends me out to find one of her books.
While I might’ve mostly given up on the life of crime I was headed towards when I fell out with my parents, breaking and entering is still one of my favourite things to do. The rush is addictive. And it just so happens to be my job…
But this is the most important book I’ve ever collected. Kyrith needs her grimoire. It’s like an extension of an arcanist’s soul. And no part of her should be anywhere near Mathias Ackland or his Carlton cronies.
Determination sets my shoulders as I let her drift back up to that damned tower, cursing Leo as she goes.
I hate him even more for falling in love with her and asking me to kill him.
I’d do it to save her. Maybe she’d even understand why and forgive me for it. Unfortunately, only an idiot would miss that she still cares about him. She might’ve banished him, might act tough, but murdering his stupid ass would hurt her.
Kyrith has been hurt enough.
Pierce is waiting for me in the foyer, his hands in his pockets.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Let’s get this over with.”
He knocks on the main door. “Carlton Manor.”
It swings open, revealing a marble-tiled entry room, painted in creams and oranges that do nothing to warm the space. From my first step, I can feel the wards around us pricking.
“Good evening, sirs,” a butler—of course they have a butler—says.
Pierce shoves past him without acknowledging that he spoke at all. “Dinner is being served in the formal dining room, I presume?”
“Yes, sir. Your mother and her other guests are waiting.”
There’s a touch of admonishment in his tone, but Pierce simply shrugs. “We were held up.”
The older man says nothing, and I forget all about him as Pierce leads us along a corridor hung with drab family portraits, then through a solid door into a room drenched in deep emerald. The huge table in the middle is laid with a crisp white tablecloth, although no one else has sat down yet.
Isidora is by the fireplace, staring quietly into the flames. Anthea is by the door, looking like she’s about to pounce—or bolt—I’m not quite sure which.
But the two people who immediately hold my attention are in the far corner.
Mathias Ackland seems visibly older than he did when Pierce proved to us he was alive with the necklace.
His liver-spotted skin has taken on a papery cast, and his hair is thinning so badly that he resembles a walking skeleton.
His fingertips are dark, almost black, and his lips are a deep purplish blue… like he’s already dead.
No doubt, being without his pet restorationist has taken its toll on his body. Pity he won’t die from ageing. No. We have to find that phylactery.
I scan his suit for a glint that might give away its location.
Nothing.
But my perusal means my eyes inevitably land on the second man. The one I’ve been avoiding.
Galileo.
If I could throttle him or curse him all over again, I would.
Our girl is so strong, pretending like his defection isn’t cutting her to the bone while she continues working to save his ungrateful ass.
Now here he is, shoulder to shoulder with the lich.
I can’t make out what they’re saying, only the rasp of the magister’s speech and the lyrical edges of Leo’s accent, but I doubt it’s good.
When Kyrith hears about this, she’ll rage—as she should—but then she’ll hide herself away and lick her wounds in quiet dignity.
Does he even know that he’s the reason she’s been working non-stop for days? His face is looking particularly punchable, so I force my gaze away. Isidora is approaching us with a practiced smile on her face.
“Dakari Talcott, you’ve been a difficult man to find.
” Her greeting is laced with reproach, and I suppress a grimace as she does those awkward little air kisses over both of my cheeks.
“Your uncle was supposed to be here, but it seems he’s been delayed.
Hopefully, he’ll arrive before the main course.
” She clicks her fingers. “Anthea, stop lurking. Come get your betrothed a drink.”
Hearing her refer to me like that rankles, especially because I have less than zero intention of ever marrying her daughter.
The idea is abhorrent. Still, I offer Anthea a polite nod as she comes to my side and brace myself for whatever invasion of my personal space she’s decided to unleash on me this time.
Only…she doesn’t.
Since her mother and my uncle came up with this stupid alliance, she’s all but thrown herself at me. Now she seems…quiet. Withdrawn.
The glass of wine she hands me shakes slightly.
Thank magic Kyrith agreed to close the Arcanaeum and lock it, because that tremor winds my gut into knots.
Anthea Carlton has never been afraid in her life.
I’ve certainly never given her reason to be.
So why now?