Page 116 of Liminal

“Creepy place,” I mutter.

“You think so?” she turns a quizzical brow on me.

Yes. I hate it. “Maybe it’s because there are none of your plants down here.”

She’s decorated every other room in the Arcanaeum to within an inch of its life. Just last week, the bathrooms had an art-deco revamp midway through my taking a piss.

Kyrith has no response to that, and I sigh.

“I get that you won’t want to talk about it, but that…altar down there…”

“My body.” Kyrith shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It turned to crystal a few minutes after I died. I never found out why. I think the Arcanaeum wanted me to have a grave.”

“It’s cracked like you are. Do you think it could be related to—” I wave my hand up and down at her floating and cracked form.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then don’t you think you should tell someone?” Hell, if Leo—and I can’t believe I’m on first-name terms with an Ó Rinn—knew, maybe he’d get closer to figuring out what’s wrong with her.

I may hate him on principle, but he’s probably smarter than half of the magisters at the university.

Kyrith’s mouth turns. “You’re older than the others. Surely you understand that some things are beyond saving.”

A fucking boulder settles in my stomach, and my feet are suddenly glued to the step I’m on, physically frozen under the weight of the realisation.

“You don’t think you’re going to survive this. You’ve given up.” The last three words are heavy with angry accusation, and I watch her brows climb up her forehead.

“I am a realist. I expected, given the number of times you’ve faced death yourself, you would be the same.”

“Youwantto die?”

Those luminous ghostly eyes go distant with sadness. “I’m not exactly living, am I?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. “My only fear is what will become of the Arcanaeum when I’m no longer here to defend it. The parriarchs will fight for control… Stars forbid they reform the alliance they had before and restart the sacrifices that led to this.”

“You can’t fucking die.”

She’s talking about a world without her in it. My chest is fucking seizing, and she’s prattling on about politics like any of it would mean a damn to me if she wasn’t…

“I’m being careful.” Her attempt to mollify me is too late. “Besides, perhaps we’re being dramatic. This could simply be cosmetic damage.”

Neither of us thinks so, and I’m so affronted that she’d even try to lie to me that I actually manage to make my legs work again.

“Tell someone. Let me put out feelers. If you don’t trust outsiders, then Jasper is a talented restorationist and?—”

“I don’t want them to see.” Kyrith tugs at her sleeve as she floats faster to keep up with me. “Even if it wasn’t horrid to look at, I’m sworn to protect the Vault, and the temptation is so great. Besides, Jasper’s still very clearly under the influence of Carlton magic.”

Excuses. “You let me see.”

“You’ve only taken out two books in your life,” Kyrith responds dryly. “I believe the Vault is safe from you. You’re the only exception I’m currently willing to make.”

She trusts me, but not enough to let me find someone who can save her. That kicks me in the chest in ways I’m not comfortable examining too closely.

Thirty-Three

Northcliff

“Let go of me,” I snarl at the blond wanker with his hand on my shoulder.

His grip tightens instead, forcing me through a glossy black door and into a Marylebone townhouse that probably costs more money than I’ll ever see in my life.