35. Asha
Asha
The fae is backed up against a pillar, hands raised, spouting something about relaying a message while Hale looms over her like he’s one syllable away from combusting.
Tobin has a handful of magic, ready to fire at something, and Leith stands off to the side, arms folded, watching with the kind of stillness that’s somehow more threatening than Hale’s aggression.
“I’m back,” I call out, and all three heads snap towards me.
Hale is across the room in two strides. His hands land on my upper arms, checking me over like he expects to find bite marks. “What did he do?”
“Nothing. We talked.”
“You were gone for over half an hour.”
“Time flies when you’re being threatened by your headmaster.”
His eyes flash. “Threatened?”
“Kidding. It was informative and time-sensitive. Dain and Mirebelle were dismissed. They know a bit, not enough. Blackridge knows everything. It’s a whole big thing. He gave me a week to get my arse out of SilverGate before SilverGate does it for me.”
“A week,” Leith repeats, uncrossing his arms.
“A week,” I confirm.
The fae takes the opportunity of everyone’s attention shifting to slide out from between the pillar and Hale’s presence, muttering to herself and vanishes into the corridor at a pace that says she’s not coming back to finish delivering whatever message got her cornered in the first place.
“What was that about?” I ask, nodding at the empty space where she’d been.
“Nothing,” Hale says, still holding my arms, still scanning me for damage that isn’t there. “She was in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
“Us finding out where he’d taken you.”
“She said she had a message.”
“She did. From Eska.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s still sniffing around?”
“More so, apparently.”
My shoulders sag. “I don’t need this,” I say, suddenly feeling defeated. “I have seven days to get out of here.”
Tobin lets the magic in his palm dissolve into nothing and steps closer. “A week isn’t long enough to find the book, decode the ritual—”
“No shit, prodigy,” I snap. “I’m over this. I just want to go home.” The words come out fractured, and the three of them fall silent.
I don’t want comfort. Comfort makes everything real.
Hale releases my arms only to pull me against him. My forehead hits his chest. His heart beats hard beneath my cheek, and his heat sinks into me.
“Then we get you home,” he says.
“You’re not listening. Seven days.”
“I heard you.”
“The book disappears whenever it feels like it. The ritual will kill me. My real body is trapped on the other side, and some faceless creature from this realm invaded mine and became a fucking god.”
Tobin goes very still. “That last part is new.”
I pull away from Hale. “Apparently, StormGate’s first god came from here. The gate was sealed from this side after the creature crossed. Blackridge thinks it might’ve been a syphon.”
Leith’s expression hardens. “The faceless figure in the carving.”
“Possibly.”
“And its name was removed,” Tobin murmurs.
“Scrubbed from every record Blackridge could find.”
Hale looks towards the dining hall doors, his anger finding a new target. “He knew all this and waited until now to tell you?”
“He wants me gone. That makes him helpful, provided his idea of help continues to involve sitting in his office and withholding vital information until I’m desperate enough to enjoy hearing it.”
“We need everything he has on the first god,” Tobin says. “Not what he considers relevant. Everything.”
“He said he wouldn’t hinder us.”
Tobin’s expression turns calculating. “That’s access.”
“It absolutely isn’t,” Leith says.
“It is if nobody catches us.”
Hale glances at him. “You’re suggesting we rob Blackridge.”
“I’m suggesting we inspect records he has already agreed not to prevent us from inspecting.”
“You’re dressing up robbery in longer words.”
“It’s one of my gifts.”
I look between them as my exhaustion retreats under the first spark of a plan. “And where do we do this robbing?”
“The restricted section,” Leith says.
“No one can get past the wards,” Tobin says carefully.
“I can,” Leith replies.
“And the rest of us?” Hale asks.
“You stay close to me,” Leith says. “The wards recognise my current.”
“How convenient,” I murmur. “Does the academy keep a special list for terrifying reapers?”
“It keeps several.”
Tobin glances towards the dining hall doors. “The restricted section has layered access. Recognition gets you through the first barrier. It won’t defeat the catalogue wards or the record locks.”
Leith’s blue eyes settle on him. “That’s why you’re coming.”
“And Hale?” I ask.
“I burn anything that objects,” Hale says.
“That is not the plan,” Tobin replies.
“It’s the backup plan.”
“And me?” I demand.
All three look at me.
I put my hands on my hips. “If anyone suggests I sleep while you steal records about my realm, I will commit an actual murder in this dining hall.”
“You’re the reason the hidden systems keep opening,” Leith says. “We need you.”
“Excellent. Finally, my disruptive presence gets the respect it deserves.”
Tobin looks around the dining hall. Most creatures have resumed eating, but enough still watch us to make staying here stupid. “We need to go to the library and figure this out there.”
I head for the doors.
The dining hall returns to full volume behind us, although several conversations dip when we pass. I don’t have the energy to threaten anyone. Hale does it for me with a look, and the nearest students decide their meals require intense concentration.
We reach the corridor without interference. The fae who brought Eska’s message has vanished, which is fortunate for her and irritating for me.
“What did Eska want?” I ask.
“Who knows and who cares,” Hale growls. “He comes anywhere near you, he dies. Painfully.”
“Noted,” I mutter and shiver as Leith pushes the doors open and we step outside. It is raining and chilly. We cross the courtyard at a brisk pace, rain striking my face and working its way through my clothes before we make it halfway.
“This realm has an unhealthy obsession with water,” I complain.
Hale puts himself between me and the worst of the wind. “You’ve survived showers, rain and drowning in one day. Impressive range.”
“I’d prefer fire tomorrow.”
“I can arrange that.”
“Don’t,” Tobin says. “Nothing burns quietly around Hale.”
“I can burn quietly.”
“You don’t do anything quietly,” Leith replies.
Hale grins, and it relaxes me. He has that effect on me, and it’s annoying. It’s also nice. I went five hundred years without anyone except casual flings who were beneath me in every sense. Hale, Tobin and Leith are not beneath me. That knowledge is both reassuring and frightening.
The library rises ahead, its windows glowing through the rain. Students hurry up the steps in groups, cloaks held over their heads, books protected against their chests. We join the stream and enter without attracting more attention than usual.
Warmth hits me inside. My wet shirt clings to my shoulders, and stray strands of hair have already escaped my bun. I pull out two pins and abandon the rest before they stab me in the scalp.
Verne waits behind the central desk.
She watches us with deep suspicion. Her attention moves from my damp clothes to Hale, Tobin and then to Leith.
“No,” she says.
“We haven’t asked anything,” I point out.
“You’re wet, secretive, and travelling in a group. Whatever you intend to ask, the answer is no.”
“We are just heading up to the third floor,” Leith says. “We have studying to do.”
“Hmm,” she mutters, giving us the side-eye, but she can’t really refuse us. “Fine. Study. But do not touch anything.”
“Of course,” Tobin says with enough sincerity to make the lie offensive.
We head for the stairs before she changes her mind. I keep my pace even until the curve of the second floor blocks us from her view, then glance at Leith.
“Where is the restricted section?”
“Below us.”
I stop. “We’re going up to go down?”
“We could hardly say to Verne we were going to hover around the restricted section on the ground floor.”
“So how do we get back down without her seeing us?”
“We don’t,” Leith says. “The third floor has a secret stairwell that bypasses the main desk.”
We continue upwards. The third floor remains suspiciously quiet after our earlier disaster. The deities section has returned to normal. No pedestal waits for us. No sentient book jumps out to offer half an answer before vanishing again.
Leith takes us past the archival stacks and stops at a narrow section filled with memorial catalogues. He pulls one book forward, presses another back, then slides his hand along the silver strip on the shelf.
Nothing happens.
Hale gives him a look. “Respectful again?”
“Shut up.”
Leith presses his palm flat against the wood. Black current spreads from beneath his hand, sinking into the shelf. A hidden latch clicks, and a slim doorway opens between two bookcases.
“Better,” Hale says.
Leith enters first. I follow with Tobin behind me and Hale last. The doorway closes, cutting off the library’s light. Tobin raises a silver orb to give us light.
The stairwell is cramped and built from dark wood rather than stone. Dust coats the steps. It appears nobody uses it often, which suits us perfectly.
“How restricted is restricted?” I ask quietly.
“The records are forbidden to students,” Tobin says. “Some sections are forbidden to staff.”
“What exactly are we hoping to find?” I ask as we head down a narrow staircase.
“A way to open that gate,” Leith says.
“And my way home.”
“No, if we manage to open it, you aren’t passing through. We have to call your body forth first.”
“That’s your plan? To call my unoccupied body forth so I can what? Leave this one and resume normal operations? How do we even do that?”
“We’ll figure that out after we open the gate,” Leith says and then stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, we’re here. Everyone, shut up.”
The stairwell ends at a black door covered in silver script. No handle, keyhole or visible hinge breaks the surface. Three narrow bands run across it, each carrying enough wardwork to make the marks under my skin pulse.