Page 33 of Liminal

I’ll have to get her a huge present for all her help, and to make up for… well…this.

Swallowing the thick lump of guilt in my throat, I remind myself that she has thousands of books here. The one Josef wants can’t be that important, right?

Kyrith holds her hand out for the paper Leo is still holding, and he passes it to her.

She doesn’t grab it, not really. Things tend to just hover above her palms.

“Wait.” My jaw drops. “You’re using manipulation magic to hold stuff.”

Those pretty eyes narrow. “Obviously.”

Leo gives me an exasperated stare, like I’m dumb for not figuring it out earlier.

“That’s so cool.” And impressive. Telekinesis is difficult as all hell. I tried it once, hoping to impress a girl, but gave upafter the first few days. “I bet you have awesome runeforms for transmutation, too. Care to share?”

Kyrith sighs, exasperated in a way that looks good on her. “We’re here to focus on your Alchemy. Now?—”

Her voice cuts off. The temperature of the library dropping sharply. Those wide eyes—clear and colourless—go unfocused for a second before snapping back. Confusion darkens that tiny line between her brows, then it’s replaced by heartbreaking betrayal.

“Kyrith?” I ask, my heart missing a beat as I take in the rigid lines of her body. “Is everything…”

“Scaesh,” she hisses.

A force, like a fucking hammer blow, sends me buckling onto my knees as our girl’s hair whips around her in some invisible breeze. Her eyes narrow, and the pressure doubles, forcing my back to bend until my cheek is pressed against the cold wooden floor.

She’s never sounded more inhuman than she does now. “You. Dare.”

Then, as suddenly as the chill invaded, it’s gone. The ambient temperature returns, and when I manage to crane my neck to look at where she was, she’s disappeared. The papers she was holding flutter slowly through the space, landing on the floor in front of me with accusatory softness.

Shit. She figured it out. I search for Leo, finding him stuck in the same position I’m in. My heart pounds with worry for North. Shit, what will she do to him? He’s not a bad guy, for all my complaining. He deserves a chance to explain himself. Somehow, I don’t think Kyrith is in a listening mood.

She wouldn’t hurt him, right?

I strain, forcing every single muscle to tense in an effort to break the noose hold of the gravity spell. It’s useless. I’m powerful, but she’s off the charts.

Will there even be anything left of North to rescue?

Ten

Kyrith

Theonlyreason I know something’s up is because the trapdoor to the Vault is heavy and rusted from disuse. So much so that opening it makes the very floor of the Rotunda protest.

My own stupid unwillingness to have anything to do with the Vault is my salvation. It yanks my attention from the distraction that is Lambert and his beautiful, tattooed arms.

Momentary confusion is replaced by true, brain-freezing horror, as I search through the building and discover a presence that doesn’t belong. No. Not just a presence.Thepresence.

Ackland is here, making his way into the dark depths of the Arcanaeum with careful steps.

Too quickly, the pieces of my downfall line up. The tutoring sessions, the deliberate attempts to get to know me, to get me to lower my guard. Lambert and Galileo are a diversion. They’re Ackland’s little minions sent to keep me from suspecting anything is amiss as he makes his way down into the Vault.

If he finds my body, what will he do? Is that his father’s plan?

“Scaesh.” That single incantation is infused with all of the Arcanaeum’s raw power.

The traitors are crushed, first to their knees, then to the ground in a mockery of a bow.

“You. Dare.” Dare to make me think, to give me hope…