Page 125 of Liminal
I drop my head into my hands and let out a frustrated little growl as she summons a string of plastic pearls into her hands.
Somewhere above us, the Arcanaeum summons a matching string and waits to see what she does with it.
I dismiss both with a wave of my hands. “Ribbons will suffice.”
“Look, if you won’t allow electricity in here, then?—”
“First, it’s electricity, then it’s those god-forsaken smartphones, and then we’re obsolete because it’s faster to search on a device than take the time to find a book. Critical thinking will decline, becauseof coursethat lady in robes making thirty-second videos must be a magister, andmagic forbid, students check the provenance of their own sources.”
“You realise other libraries have modernised, right?” Eddy asks dryly. “God, you are such an old lady.”
I am not dignifying that with a response.
With a growl, I turn the subject back to the decorations. “You realise this is an obnoxious amount of time to spend decorating in order to celebrate the commercialised not-birthday of a demi-god you don’t believe in?”
And when she leaves, it will just be another thing to miss in the years that follow.
“Hey! It’s about fostering the spirit of giving and humanity.”
“Well, if it were successful, then homelessness and hunger would be eradicated by now.”
“You are such a Scrooge,” she dismisses, grabbing another red bauble the size of my skull and diligently hooking it onto the thirty-foot tall fir tree she insisted needed to gorightin the middle of the Rotunda.
My desk has been shoved aside in favour of the monstrosity, and it appears my dignity is about to follow suit.
Bright gold and red ribbons already radiate from the topmost branches, hanging low before finishing in obnoxiously largebows tied to the railings of the Gallery. The tree itself surely can’t support much more of these decorations before it collapses, and I cannot fathom the sheer number of needles which have already been shed onto the tiles below.
And this is just the room Eddy chose to decorate herself. The Arcanaeum is far too happy to take her ideas and run with them. Every single nook and cranny is now bedecked in Christmas regalia.
“THIS IS AMAZING!” Lambert crows, bouncing into the room with his arms spread wide and his mouth open in awe. “Eddy, did you do this? That tree’s huge! Arcanaeum, dude, you are looking slick.”
The building preens, and another two-dozen ribbon bows appear on the tree. I sigh noisily, but Lambert’s presence is a welcome balm to the boredom of the last few days.
Ever since Jasper left a week ago, things have been quiet. Sure, they returned for the latest magiball game a few days ago, even though Lambert’s team wasn’t playing, and they’ll probably return next week for the next one when he is, but it’s not the same.
Dakari still sleeps here but leaves for hours at a time, and the other four I barely see outside of their class with Hopkinson. Even their tutoring has become less frequent as Lambert struggles to find time outside of training, and North does… whatever it is he does to earn so many bruises.
Leo has returned to rarely leaving the Astrology room, where he pores over the runeforms he took from Ammie Talcott’s grimoire night and day. The two of us spend more time together in silence trying to decipher elements of the spell against ageing star charts than we do in conversation. It can hardly be called company.
“Keep your voice down,” I scold, more out of habit than anything else.
“Sorry, boss.” His smile is just as bright as he lifts Eddy up and spins her around before ruffling her short hair. “The decorations are amazing, though.”
A hundred more tiny wisplights flicker into being at his words, illuminating the proudly decorated tree even more.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter to the building, giving up when it simply adds more poxy ribbons in retaliation. “Are you here for a reason, Mr Winthrop, or simply to critique the Arcanaeum’s festive decorations?”
The abruptness in my tone never puts him off, and today is no exception.
“I’m just making sure you’re ready for the game next week.” He offers me an easy smile as he brushes a flyaway lock of hair out of his face. “It’s the last one before term ends.”
He says that as if I’m expected to draw some meaning from his statement, his face open with expectation. When I don’t immediately get it, he shrugs. “I’m heading back home for Christmas. I figured we could celebrate my win together before vacation.”
Oh.
Winter break. How could I forget? Normally, it simply marks a quieter period in the Arcanaeum, during which I tend to spend my time reorganising one hall or another. But I guess it means Lambert will be returning to the States and tutoring will probably stop altogether.
“That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” Eddy bops him on the nose. “We might be commiserating your defeat.”
