Page 68 of Librarian

The articles are beginning to follow a predictable pattern. References to studies on the increased prevalence of necromancers in liminal bloodlines, where the sample size wasn’t adjusted for population. Line graphs showing a rise in magically weak children, where the y-axis didn’t start at zero. Carefully selected stories focusing on adept families who were torn apart, but whose deaths Abe chose to keep quiet so as not to scare the public. Reports on the frailty of Halinor and Artemius, speculating on their mental acuity. Non-peer-reviewed studies.

It’s blatant manipulation of facts and figures to support a singular narrative: necromancy is on the rise, adepts are suffering, and liminals are both somehow responsible and weakening the population. Isidora and Mathias alone are arcandom’s last hope to fix the mistakes of her blundering predecessor.

Manufactured crisis plus perfect scapegoat equals strong saviour needed. It’s the same textbook equation used by every budding authoritarian regime since the dawn of time.

Just thinking of it makes my mouth uncomfortably dry.

“I’ve been taking care of myself,” I finish lamely. “As much as I can.”

“If you call letting my brother and Lambert lure you into bed every night taking care of yourself, then yeah, sure. You’re not a ghost anymore, Kyrith. You’re spending all of your time in a body that needs to relax and have fun every now and again.”

She is more of an expert in corporeality than I am, and she’s determined. So, with a groan, I let her shut the door, then watch quiescently as she opens the garment bag hanging on the back of it with a flourish.

“What. Is. That?”

Eddy gives me a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat. “Two words: Leo’s face.”

I pin her with my best glare, but after years of dealing with North, she’s immune to sour looks.

“What? I thought you were torturing him with what he can’t have?”

“That was one moment of selfish pettiness.”

After overthinking it, I’ve come to the decision that it was done in poor taste. I resolved to remain professional, and in the next breath decided to orgasm loudly against his door.

“Then what do you call all the other noises coming out of your room at night?”

I raise a brow. “Do tell me, how is Lydia? North may be ignorant, but you’re not exactly discreet.”

Eddy raises one delicate shoulder. “She’s very well, thank you, andwecast a silencing ward around my room before we get busy…unlike some people. You’re dodging the subject and the dress. Strip.”

I roll my eyes as I follow her orders, but I keep my mouth shut.

Of course, Eddy being Eddy, that isn’t enough for her.

“If you’ve broken the last ensorcellment, does that mean…?”

“It means he should have no incentive to betray me to Mathias a second time.” I pause. “And we no longer have any real reason to speak to one another.”

Ever since I handed him that final piece of paper this morning, it’s like a weight has been lifted, and another has taken its place.

On the one hand, I no longer need to fear that he’ll run off to Mathias should I not manage to free his family. I can rest easier knowing that I’ve saved dozens of people. There’s always the chance that more children will be born with ensorcellments in the future, thanks to the sizeable number of Ó Rinns who had already lost what mattered most to them, but I understand the pattern now.

By the last runeform, I knew where to look and which constellations the magic favoured when it deteriorated. I was limited mostly by my own speed and my methodical need to check every last nullifying runeform for errors before I handed it off to Leo.

For days, I’ve been working side by side with him, wishing it felt the same as it once did.

It didn’t.

He’s stopped calling me Kyrie. I asked him to, and he obliged. I should be happy. But with every single ‘Kyrith’ or ‘Librarian’ that passes his lips, I grow more and more frustrated.

He’s perfectly polite, constantly reminds me to take breaks, and never brings up anything outside of work. It’s like having a respectful, robotic assistant. Surely that’s an improvement? It’s certainly the opposite of the man who worked with me until weboth passed out and begrudged me taking time away from his ensorcellment for myself.

“You miss him,” Eddy comments as she unhooks the dress and loosens the laces at the back.

“I miss what we had,” I correct, peeling myself out of my stays. “I miss the ease of it. Only a fool would expect that to return after what he did.”

At no point during our work did I feel comfortable enough to slip back to my knees on the floor like I used to. My logical brain knows that could be due to any number of reasons, not least of which is the unfamiliar location and witnesses. But my heart mourns the drugging warmth and comfort of his hand in my hair.