Page 88 of Librarian

That old place? I thought it was abandoned.

The stairs begin to reform behind him, frantic voices chanting from above. I grimace, taking a step back. “We should transport there?—”

“Leaving so soon?”

A chill skates down my spine. No part of me wants to look over my shoulder, but my head is dragged around regardless.

Mathias steps forward on the far side of the landing, holding a familiar dagger, with his eyes fixed on the four of us.

The ruby in the pommel glimmers, and the moment he notices the direction of my gaze, his expression hardens.

The clack, clack, clack of her heels echoes from behind me, a sound as familiar as my own voice.

Great. Liches on both sides of us. Enforcement probably not far behind.

“Anyone got a plan?” North asks, hefting Eddy into his arms.

“Get out of here by any means necessary,” I reply.

Soldiers are already rushing to surround us, grimoires up and hands glowing with power.

We’re outnumbered, and we were outmatched from the moment Mathias arrived. Staying is suicide. We can reconvene and find a way to rescue Jasper later.

Dakari shakes his head, but he’s edging closer to the rest of us. “The McKinleys…”

“They don’t care about them,” I dismiss, hand landing on the page with a transport spell. I open my mouth to cast, but Mathias merely chuckles.

“Oh, you won’t be doing that.” He raises the dagger.

My grimoire slams shut, trapping my palm painfully within the pages.

“What the fuck?” North grunts.

Why can’t I move? What is this?

“Hands up!” One of the enforcers yells. “Grimoires on the floor. Now!”

“Cooperate,” my grandfather murmurs.

He can’t mean that. “Grandfather?—”

“Do it.”

He wouldn’t be saying that unless he didn’t think we had a way out of this. Unfortunately, I’m paralysed.

My palm presses harder into the page as my mind races.

“Still think it was a clever idea to encourage your grandson to build a magical bond to the Arcanaeum, Benny?” Mathias gloats. “I suppose such a move probably seemed safe when the heart was out of my reach, but now…”

His eyes gleam as he twists the blade in mid-air. Something takes hold of my spine and yanks. Stars dance across my vision, my hand spasming as the magic stops flowing, and I lose my hold on the spell keeping my grimoire hovering beside me.

It thuds to the ground, along with Dakari’s and North’s.

“An interesting corollary,” my grandfather admits, stepping forward until he’s directly between me and the lich. “But a limited one. I expect exerting that kind of control takes more effort than you’d care to admit.”

My grimoire is rightthere, but that iron hand has my bones in a death grip. I can’t move.

Shit. We assumed he could only control Kyrith. We should’ve realised?—