Page 215 of Librarian

“Magisters,” I greet them. “I’m glad to be back and fully recovered.”

Of course, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Word spreads, and soon there’s a queue. Half of the patrons have complaints about how things were run in my absence. The other half are just there to thank me.

The most shocking part is when Magister Hopkinson and Professor Goodberry arrive bearing a huge bouquet from the university staff who taught in the Arcanaeum during Isidora’s ban on liminals.

My eyes trace upwards to the Gallery, where six very smug men watch me stutter my thanks and conjure a vase.

Slowly, the line goes down, but not before more gifts are handed to me. I stumble my way through accepting books, bookmarks, chocolates—although I do question the point of those when I’m clearly unable to ingest anything—and even a handful of houseplants. Soon my desk is so cluttered that I’m forced to start whisking them up to the Clock Tower.

It’s almost too much fuss.

There’s always one of my bonded leaning over the balcony above, watching me protectively. When it’s closing time, Jasper is right there, luring me away from the desk with a smile.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asks as we wander back to the Clock Tower.

I hum under my breath. “I made it to the end of the day without firing any of the volunteers or banishing any patrons, so I consider that a success.”

He smirks. “And the flowers?”

I blush. “I liked them. I was surprised anyone bothered to get me anything, really.”

“Dinnae tell Lambert, or you’ll be receiving them every day for the rest of your life. He’s already plotting.”

“Let him. Women deserve weekly flowers at a minimum,” Eddy says, joining us with Westley in her arms. “Men act like it’s such a big deal. If I had a girlfriend, and buying her flowers once a week was a guaranteed way to make her smile, you bet your ass I’d be doing that shit.”

I’m fairly certain shedoeshave a girlfriend, if the way she and Lydia have been exchanging saliva during their study sessions is any indication. Still, I keep schtum, because their on-again-off-again relationship isn’t something she’s mentioned to the others.

“Aye, but this is Lambert. Kyrith will be drowning in pollen by the time he’s done.”

I snort at the image. “You have a point.”

We cross the parapet and enter the Clock Tower. Westley climbs onto Eddy’s shoulder in an effort to launch himself from her and onto me, despite my lack of physical form. Fortunately, he lands on the back of the sofa instead of falling to the floor.

I wish I could smell whatever Pierce is cooking, because the dish on the stove looks interesting, and Eddy gravitates towards it.

“Lasagne?” she checks.

“Not done yet.” He shoos her away with one hand, but lets me hover beside him, watching him grate cheese liberally over the top.

Eddy disappears upstairs as the rest of my men filter in. Leo is the last, and he flops down on the sofa, pinching his brow with a groan.

“Fecking parriarch bullshite,” he mutters.

Lambert offers him a commiserating pat on the back.

“I’m not rushing to graduate,” North mutters, heading for the fridge.

“Lasagne goes with red wine, not beer, you uncultured swine,” Pierce mutters.

North flips him off. “I was grabbing a snack.”

Pierce scoffs as he tucks the food safely into the oven, and then he turns to face me, reaching out like he’ll pull me into his arms. He stops and smiles ruefully.

“Ah. Sorry.”

The cabinets around him sag, and I sigh. “Maybe we should talk about this…”

He glares at me. “Darling, I forgot for one second. It doesn’t change anything.”