Page 75 of Liminal
I yank my gaze away, trying to regain the control from earlier, and Jasper clears his throat awkwardly.
“So,” he begins, voice hoarse. “Which family did you come from?”
If my stomach still worked, it would’ve dropped through my feet.
“I didn’t. I was an orphan when I was discovered, and no one knows who my arcanist parent was.”
Apparently, not even the Arcanaeum’s magic has figured that one out.
Truthfully, I don’t want to know. Without ties to any of the six families, my position feels more impartial, and I can’t be accused of favouritism. I also, selfishly, don’t want to know which house betrayed and murdered their own kin.
He shuffles in place awkwardly. “Oh, I just assumed… You’re so powerful.”
I shrug. “I was a liminal. It’s an anomaly, but not unheard of.”
How many times have I wished that I wasn’t one of the select few? If I hadn’t been powerful, I might’ve been spared this. Edmund and the magisters would’ve found a different liminal, and I could’ve lived a normal inept life.
I suspect North probably feels the same, though our fates are very different. At least Josef values him too much to kill him.
Another tug at my consciousness draws my attention to the Rotunda, and I groan.
“Excuse me, there’s a queue at the desk that requires my attention.”
His face creases with regret as I disappear, but I wasn’t making excuses to get away from the uncomfortable topic. Fivepatrons have lined up in my absence, and the woman at the front is already tapping her foot with impatience as I take my spot and start dealing with the mess.
Uneasiness skitters down my spine as I go through the motions of my self-appointed job. It takes me a few minutes to locate the source, and once I do, I can’t stop my eyes from wandering up to the Gallery every few seconds.
Pierce Carlton leans over the balcony, his monogrammed cufflinks glinting in the light as he studies me. His presence, and the lingering thoughts of my encounter with Jasper, consume my thoughts as I work. So much so, that I don’t even notice I’ve forgotten to cover the cracks on my arm with an illusion until the murmurs and nosy stares from patrons draw my attention to it.
Great. Just great.
There’s no use covering the arm again, the rumour mill is already abuzz. All I can do is shoot withering glares at anyone talking too loudly about it.
By the time Pierce finally deigns to approach me, the patrons have settled down a little. Still, I level him with my frostiest glare.
His haughty answering look is the complete opposite of Jasper’s shy glances, and I know which of the two I’d rather be spending my time on. Unfortunately, I can hardly ignore him, given that heistechnically a patron, and he hasn’t broken any rules…yet.
“Can I help you?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He shrugs. “Are you willing to return my house’s lost property?”
I gape at him. “You did not just describe a person as?—”
He slides a piece of paper onto the desk. “This contract, between his family and mine, should clear things up.”
I skim the document—noting with disdain the blood staining one corner—and roll my eyes. Jasper’s father was indebted to theCarltons and apparently agreed to foster his son with them as collateral until such time as he’d managed to repay them.
“If you believe that this will change the conditions of Sanctuary, you’re sorely mistaken.” I slide it back toward him. “Besides, it’s clearly fake.”
The Arcanaeum can tell, and the shelves bristle at the attempted deception.
I summon Pierce’s library card into my hand, watching as a strike burns across it. “And if you’ll recall, lying to the Librarian is against the rules.”
Pierce is completely unruffled. “I never lied or pretended it wasn’t forged. This is an olive branch, Librarian, a way for you to save face and yourself. Pretend that itisreal and hand him over. No one will blame you. My parriarch will allow you to continue your sad little existence. It’s a generous offer.”
My fury straightens my spine, resting both hands on my hips. “You’re threatening me?”
He raises a regal brow and shifts his weight until he’s leaning against my desk. “I don’t have to threaten you, Librarian. Not when you’re so clearly running out of power. It takes a lot of magic to keep a soul tethered for hundreds of years, and it appears the Arcanaeum is finally about to run out.”
