Page 47 of Librarian

To my right, Lambert and North are growing increasingly competitive about the number of pull ups they can achieve. Beyond them, Jasper and his cousins have taken out honest-to-magic swords and set up a league table on the far side of the room. Fencing is apparently a McKinley Clan hobby that they takeveryseriously.

So seriously that they’re not wearing masks or using safety equipment. I’m pretty sure those sabres aren’t blunted either, given the red streaks that decorate the lot of them. At least they take intermittent breaks to heal the more serious wounds.

I see now why Jasper is so popular and talented. He must have learned a lot of restoration spells solely to heal his over-competitive relatives.

Not that I’m objecting, given that he’s winning and shirtless. I do wince whenever one of them curses too loudly—which is often. The urge to scold them for the profanity lingers at the tip of my tongue.

“They’re showing off,” Eddy comments as she finishes drawing a line in her grimoire and double checks it against the textbook, scratching Westley behind his ears with her free hand. “All three of them. God, this is almost embarrassing to watch.”

“I’d be more impressed if they could bring this kind of enthusiasm to their schoolwork,” I mutter under my breath, copying the same runeform into my own grimoire.

The process is agonisingly slow, but it can’t be helped. At least one added benefit of being chucked right back to beginner level magic is that I’m not alone. Refilling the pages of this book is all I have to occupy myself now; well, that and the ensorcellment runeforms and star charts on the desk in my room.

The loss of the shortcuts I developed over years of using the Vault’s grimoires makes casting slower and requires me to use incantations that weren’t necessary before. Unlike Eddy, I know how those spells should be performed, so there’s no trial and error.

Simply endless repetition.

“Now that you’re out of the Arcanaeum, do you want us to get you a phone?” Eddy asks, picking up her own device to check something. “There are lots of online communities who read books?—”

“Absolutely not.” I barely keep the snap out of my voice. “Magic, I can’t think of anything worse than having to deal with technology on top of all of this.”

“But you could join the group chat!”

“I’m not interested. If I want to talk to someone, I can.” I draw the next line a little harder than I need to and groan. “This is ridiculous.”

Why in all the years of arcane advancement has no one come up with a spell to inscribe new runeforms into a grimoire from memory? Must I do everything myself?

And how many of these spells will even be useful against Mathias? I’m focusing on nullification right now, but there are illusion spells that might be better, depending on the circumstances. I’ve always prided myself on having a balanced repertoire, developed from equal study of all ten schools of magic. Prioritising one over everything else adds to the boredom.

I’ve allowed myself a few breaks to add in a couple of spells from the other schools, mainly conjuration. One of those was only added so I could summon a cat tree beside us to stop Westley playing with my pen whenever I set it down. Now he abandons Eddy’s petting to scale it, surveying the rest of us from the very top.

I’m grateful for Lambert and North’s peacocking. They’re breaking up the monotony, if nothing else.

A shadow falls over me, and I look up, wondering if they’re done, only to blink at the soft grey joggers in front of me.

How is it that Pierce Carlton still manages to look moneyed and expensive in casual clothing? More importantly, why is he standing over me, holding out a gift bag?

I must stare at it a little too long, because he drops to a crouch beside me, placing it on the floor.

“It’s traditional to thank someone for a gift and then open it.” He delivers the statement mildly, too mildly for me to guess what he’s thinking.

The bag is a brilliant turquoise, printed with a logo I don’t recognise. I reach for it slowly, half expecting him to tell me this is a joke.

But when I lift out the matching box within and flick it open, a stunning pair of drop earrings stares back.

“There are runeforms on the back,” Pierce explains. “They link to this.” He pulls up his sleeve to display a thin steel cuff. He has several, much like Benny. “If you tap them three times, they’ll tell me you’re in trouble, and I’ll come find you.”

Pierce…got me earrings for my protection?

I raise one brow, and he shakes his head, dropping his shoulders. “Look, I can get you something else if you don’t like them, but I failed to protect you once. I refuse to watch you get stabbed a second time.”

I take one out, tracing the blue and white stones with one finger, then raise it to my ear. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“They’re white gold, with diamonds and colour-changing sapphires,” Pierce adds, almost as an afterthought, as I put on the other.

He opens his mouth, probably to say something else, but a towelsmackshim around the back of the head. Twisting on one heel, he pins Jasper with a look.

“If you’re done wooing Kyrith with your millions, I could use some real competition.” Jasper throws a sword next.