Page 124 of Liminal

Halinor’s eyes narrow. “Choosing sides, Librarian?”

I clear my throat, looking away. “Don’t make it into something it isn’t. Like I said, there were several witnesses.”

She inclines her head softly. “Of course.” A pause. “Clan McKinley owes you a debt.”

My focus returns to Jasper and his family, and the realisation that he’s going to leave hits me harder than it should.

“No debt,” I whisper distractedly. “Just take care of him.”

Logic says I should be thankful for his removal from the Arcanaeum. The risk of another touch is too high with him living here. He’s got to get back to having a life soon. But once he leaves, Dakari will undoubtedly follow. Eddy is too vivacious to stay long, either.

Soon it will be just me, alone but for my books and the building who rarely communicates beyond nudges and gifts. The prospect shouldn’t vex me as much as it does.

Better to get on with it,I tell myself resolutely, drifting towards the Gallery, intent on leaving them to their reunion. There are still jobs to be done. I can redecorate the clock tower.Or maybe I’ll try sprucing up the Vault. Dakari was right, I have neglected it. My tomb should be a little less gloomy, surely?

“Hey, Kyrith?” Jasper calls, freezing me in midair.

I turn to face him, grimacing at his obvious confusion and the subtle hurt there.

This is callous. What we just shared… He put trust in me, and I’m now casting him aside. Just like with Lambert, I should’ve discussed the terms of our arrangement before we were intimate and made sure we were on the same page. Everything was so spontaneous, and something about these heirs robs me of my common sense.

“Mr McKinley.” I force a serene smile. “If you’re worried about your personal effects, I will have them ready for you to collect whenever you wish.”

Those deep brown eyes crinkle in concern. “What? I’m not…”

“You’re coming home.” His mother still hasn’t released him, and I doubt she will for some time. “You’re safe.”

“But I’m not well,” Jasper protests. “I’m still taking the tonics, and?—”

“We have healers.” His father clasps his shoulder. “We’ve missed you, and being home will help you recover.”

“Kyrith will still be hosting magiball nights, I’m sure,” Dakari interjects.

Swallowing away an imaginary lump, I nod. “I shall see you soon, I’m sure. Now that you have a card, you may visit whenever you like.”

Perhaps he will. Perhaps he’ll even join the university and come here for his studies, given his talents. But those visits will dwindle as he gets on with the business of being alive.

Without me.

Thirty-Five

Kyrith

“It needs tinsel,” Eddy tells me defiantly.

She looks ridiculous, dressed in a huge woollen jumper despite the Arcanaeum’s comfortable temperature, with a floppy red hat on her head.

I’m currently holding her suspended ten feet in the air while she decorates a ‘bare patch’ that I swear she’s imagined. The task grows immeasurably harder as she leans forward to place the bauble and then wiggles to mime getting down.

Surely not moving while you’re being held in the air is common sense.

“I refuse to have plastic cheapening this establishment,” I retort. “This is an Arcanaeum, not some over-commercialised inept nightmare.”

“It’s traditional.”

“How traditional can it be if it was only introduced in the sixties?” I ask rhetorically. “And before that, it was made of lead.”

“It needs sparkles!”