Page 34 of Librarian

It’s the real world, in all its chaotic, unpredictable glory. Everything I wanted is right there, and yet my feet still refuse to traverse the distance from the doorstep to the gravel.

“You had the Arcanaeum back then, and all your grimoires.”

My free hand falls to the book at my hip—the onehehad to repair for me. I’ve spent the hours since filling the pages with basic runeforms drawn from my memory. My pockets are full of scraps for the smaller magics that make life easier.

It still doesn’t seem like enough.

“It doesn’t feel like mine,” I mumble, caressing the spine. “I’ve not used it in so long, and now…”

Our connection is weak. A long-term bond between an arcanist and their grimoire enables them to draw it and select a page with their mind, but I’d have to fumble with the buckles like North used to and then flick to the correct page by hand.

Stars,Northis better equipped to cast spells than I am. That’s galling.

It’s like being chucked back to the day I was first brought to the university.

“I’m defenceless.”

I need to deepen my bond with the book, but I’ve barely lifted a finger since I woke up. I haven’thatedtheir pampering, or the cuddles, but it’s clearly got to stop. Now.

“You’re not,” Jasper promises. “And no one would dare touch you with Dakari up there scowling at anyone who comes close.”

True enough, Dakari is reclining on the curtain wall above the gatehouse, black gaze fixed on the two of us. He plucks something from a pink floral tin by his side, then pops it into his mouth with a wink.

It’s strange how comforting his presence is. It reminds me of how he used to watch from the Gallery while I worked at my desk. He and Jasper are my bastions of strength as I take the first step, then the next.

An evil-looking goose waddles out from between two cars, halting me in my tracks with a grumpy hiss and a flap of its wings. I’ve not seen birds in ages. From the looks of things, they haven’t changed much since I was alive, but the novelty brings a healthy dose of sadness.

I’ve traded the creaking of floorboards and the smell of bibliosmia for an overgrown chicken. Already, I miss the reassuring rustle of books being tidied away. The quiet of bright minds engrossed in study. The steady schlick of pages being turned.

Instead, there’s a hissing, honking bird and yelling. So. Much. Yelling.

“Why is it so…loud?” I venture, taking another step away from the creature. It honks again, like it’s laughing at me.

“That?” Jasper carefully extracts his hand from my grip and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “That’s just how my clan communicates. Twenty quid says Uncle Ronnie is getting arsey about how one of my cousins has parked, and my aunts are telling him where to shove it.”

“I should banish them all,” I mutter, before I realise what I’ve said.

My heart falls.

This isn’t the Arcanaeum. I can’t banish anyone.

I never considered how strange it would be to leave. Now I’m homesick and unable to return. Still, I refuse to remain cooped up.

“Where are we going?” I ask, taking another few steps.

Jasper points at a smaller building set into the wall across the yard. “There. That’s my parents’ house.”

Oh. Of course. I suppose he thought that was an easy first venture beyond the confines of the keep; unfortunately, there’s nothing more nerve-wracking than meeting your partner’s family.

I’ve met his parents before, of course. But that was as the Librarian. Not as the woman who locked up their son’s penis for good behaviour.

As if to drive the point home, Jasper steps closer, eliminating the gap between us, and a hard bulge settles against the crack of my ass. Too hard.

He didn’t take the cage off?

It’s been days.

Did he forget the spell? Or is this intentional? I tilt my head back, searching for an answer in his eyes, but the door across the neatly maintained yard slams open, and a familiar man’s head sticks out.