Page 141 of Librarian

My fingers flutter nervously over my skirts, then fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist, then back to the paisley-print fabric, checking the hidden holster beneath for the hundredth time.

The dagger resting against my skin is held together with scraps of paper loaded with runeforms for strength and reinforcement. That ornate golden blade has been completely mummified. The bracelet Jasper gave me is now etched with spells for illusion, giving me the appearance of my former ghostly blue skin. My solidity will quickly become apparent to anyone who tries to touch me, but Dakari insisted.

I understand why.

Being physical makes me vulnerable. That’s a weakness that the Librarian has never had before. Revealing that I can be touched, bruised, possibly even killed, would only make me more of a target.

Pretending that nothing has changed will stop most from bothering to try.

Right now, I’m stalling, and the quiet glances the others are giving me speak volumes. They’ve noticed.

All seven of them, including Eddy, have bracelets of their own. They allow them to turn invisible on a whim. That way they can continue the ruse of the Library being exactly as it once was.

Lambert, of course, has decided that this makes them assistant librarians. I didn’t have an argument for that. However, I did draw the line when he conjured seven badges of office and tried to get the others to wear them.

This institution is many things, but it will never be tacky.

Right now, Eddy is the only one using the bracelet. She’s up on the Gallery, ready to act as backup should we need her. My bonded surround my desk, waiting.

Focusing on the dagger at my thigh to control the building gives me the same heavy sense of guilt I would feel for using harsh words on a friend. I’m not used to commanding the Arcanaeum’s obedience, and no part of me enjoys it.

At least it works.

The doors around the Rotunda creak open, connecting the building to the offices of professors and magisters throughout the UAA, along with two others.

Halinor and Artemius are the only ones expecting the invitation, and so they’re the first to enter. The latter is leaning heavily on a cane, his other side supported by one of Leo’s older cousins, a woman with shocking blonde-and-pink hair who rolls her eyes as he tries to shrug her off.

“I can walk by myself,” the elderly man grumbles, then he spots Leo. “Oh, good. You’re here. Olivia has stolen my stash.”

Leo pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s praying for patience, but his cousin just harrumphs loudly.

“Yeah, because you smoke like a fecking chimney, and the Librarian would kick you out for lighting up in here.” Olivia, whose name I vaguely remember from her time as a studentsome years ago, glares at him. “Now, sit your arse down before you fall.”

Artemius’s lips purse, but he collapses into the chair she summons for him beside my desk with a heavy thump and a wince.

I’ve missed Halinor’s entrance, but she’s hugging Jasper with a grateful smile. “Your mama has been on the warpath, boy. Visit soon before she fattens up the entire clan with her cooking.”

Jasper’s grin is wry as he pulls away. “Aye, I’ll try. I did send a note?—”

Halinor raises a brow, and he blushes with the embarrassment of a son who knows exactly how his mother would’ve reacted to such a message.

“Yeah. I’ll visit.”

Someone clears their throat, and I settle myself as I realise it’s Magister Hopkinson, looking at my desk and the parriarchs and heirs around it, with a kind of awkward curiosity.

“I’m glad to see you well, Librarian,” he offers.

He’s not wearing his normal robes; in fact, he appears to have hastily thrown a brown pea coat over what Eddy would call slob-wear. That makes sense. After Isidora’s announcement, he’s no longer eligible for employment by the university.

I’m counting on that being the case for a large portion of those I’ve invited here.

“Thank you for coming, magister.” I force myself to stop fiddling with my skirts and rest my hands on the leather top. “If you’ll just hold off on your questions for a moment, we’re expecting a few others.”

One by one, the other professors step through the doors, and soon the Rotunda is teeming with faculty.

“Good morning,” I begin, raising my voice a little to reach those at the back. “I hope you aren’t too inconvenienced by this invitation.”

“Why are we here, Librarian?” Goodberry demands, surrounded by a group of other professors, all of whom are nodding. “And why has the Arcanaeum been closed?—?”