Page 117 of Librarian

Two seconds stretch by in silence.

“Okay, you can’t hear it now, but he was chanting and shit.”

Chanting? What is he up to? If Leo is out there, doing magic-knows-what to the building,someoneshould be supervising him. My grimoire is in my hand, legs wobbling as I head for the closed door separating us from Botanical Hall. It creaks slightly as it opens.

North’s judgemental answering cough warns me to be quiet.

How can he be more concerned about waking them than he is about whatever Leo is doing?

If we’re not careful, we’ll end up exactly where we were?—

My internal rant cuts off as I come face to face with the man himself. He’s chanting, just like North said, but it’s…a transmutation spell? His grimoire rests on a vintage reading table, and his free hand is raised to the window. The glass bends and warps with threads of colour.

He’s fixing the windows.

I gnash my teeth together. Maybe I can slip back through the door before he sees me.

No such luck.

Leo finishes in the next breath, and his dark brows lower into a frown as he turns in my direction and spots me.

“Sit your arse down. You were bleeding out four hours ago.”

Stunned, I half-obey, leaning against another reading desk that wasn’t here before.

“How long have you been at this?”

He checks his phone as he approaches me warily, the pages of his grimoire turning in the air beside him.

“Two hours. Couldn’t sleep.” He places his hand on the paper. “Riviel Treame.”

The warm, golden glow of magic makes him appear younger in the brief second before it fades.

“All good.” He dismisses me with those two words, turning back to his task.

“You’re not going to manage this by yourself.”

“That’s not the fecking point.”

“Then what is?”

He shakes his head.

Fine. Well, I’m not going back to sleep while he’s out here unsupervised. I don’t have a whole host of transmutation spells in my arsenal, but I can probably start on the furniture or something.

I manage to turn two uncomfortable plastic chairs into wooden ones before Leo groans.

“That’s not right. They were darker than that.”

I almost snap at him that he can do it himself if he’s going to be picky about it, but then I realise he’d probably prefer that and shut my mouth.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” I grumble, even though I know that’s a lie.

Kyrith will notice any differences, and they’ll only cause her more pain.

That same knowledge lingers in his expression as he replies, “Yes. It does.”

“Doyouremember exactly what this place looked like?”