Page 172 of Librarian

“Do you still want to go down there?”

I nod, glancing at the Rotunda again. They’ve all tried, at some point or another, to convince me to hide away, worried that Mathias will find me.

But I won’t hide anymore. I’m powerful. I know more magic than any of them.

It would be more irresponsible of me to stay hidden and allow a bunch of young arcanists to do battle in my stead.

There’s still a chance that this can be resolved without risking the destruction of the books. I have to try.

“We wait.”

The screams have devolved into yells, but I’ve yet to hear the tell-tale noise of magical battle.

That’s good. Maybe the plan is working.

“Keep the aftershocks going,” I add, even as my stomach threatens to rebel against the order. “I don’t think everyone is out yet.”

“They’re out.” He leans on the wall and peers down through the shattered roof of Botanical Hall. “That’s the aegis arriving.”

Ice forms in my veins. He’s right. They’re storming through in organised lines, yelling out orders to non-existent patrons. Blanche’s people are hidden and have instructions to remain that way until everyone is in the Rotunda.

As far as the aegis are concerned, they’ve entered an abandoned building.

The floors have been spelled to shriek if Mathias joins them.

I wait, breath frozen in my lungs, for the flare of magic that will announce his arrival… but…

It doesn’t come.

Good. That’s good. That gives me time to reason with them. To stop this.

Only, a door opens beside me. My breath catches in my throat.

Dakari is in front of me in the next second, protecting me with his body as the pages of his grimoire rustle menacingly.

I crane my neck to look around him, just in time to see Anthea Carlton step onto the parapet.

Pierce’s sister has never looked less elegant in her life. Cheap clothes hang off her frame in unflattering lines that she would never have tolerated before she went on the run. Her hair is down, hanging limply to her shoulders. The grimoire at her hip is a plain ugly brown.

But that angry fire in her eyes?

That hasn’t changed.

If anything, it’s only gotten brighter.

“Librarian. Parriarch Talcott.” She grins. “So nice of you to invite me back.”

Forty-Eight

Pierce

The old Ó Rinn cottage is grey and gloomy in the pale morning light. Still, beggars can’t be choosers. The cottage is warded, and Mathias has never been here. In fact, I doubtanyonehas since we left. The only noise comes from the rain hammering against the windows as I lay the soul vessel on the hearth beside my grimoire.

The gem pulses with its own staccato heartbeat beneath my touch. Does the organ rotting in Mathias’s ribcage share the same rhythm, or was it silenced the second he made this atrocity?

It won’t matter soon.

I double check the runeform in my grimoire against the one Kyrith created. I insisted on being the one to do this. I can’t mess it up.