Page 50 of Liminal

Well, apparently, I do, but only to Galileo, Lambert, and Northcliff.

“Banished,” I hiss at the polished Carlton heir. “You know the rules.”

Her face scrunches, but I don’t let my satisfaction show on mine. “He?—”

“Firein the library is forbidden.”

The second red strike burns through the paper, and before she can protest further, she’s dragged from the Rotunda by invisible hands. She’s not graceful about it either, screaming and cursing like a banshee.

I look at the two remaining Carlton thugs with disgust. I’m pretty sure these two haven’t been inside the Arcanaeum since first gaining entry years ago. That’s not unusual; many arcanists drift away from using the library after finishing college, but I don’t think I even saw these two during their studies.

“I suggest you also leave, before any more rules are broken.” That earns me clipped nods from both of them before they turn away. “And, Mr Winthrop, you?—”

“Shit, are you okay, Kyrith?” Lambert asks, reaching for me in concern. “Did she get you?”

I dodge so fast he stumbles, his skin still covered in that granite sheen.

Turning the dermis to stone is incredibly advanced transmutation magic, and he’s holding it like it’snothing. He’s the most easily distractible person I’ve ever met. How on earth did anyone manage to get him to focus long enough to master that school of magic?

Did they tie him down? Tape the books to his face?

“No touching,” I hiss, eyeing his outstretched hand like it’s poison. “Get to class, before you cause any more chaos in my Arcanaeum.”

He pouts, eyes wide like I’ve kicked him, and I instantly feel bad. He holds out his other hand, the one still carrying a now-charred magazine, and I wince.

Glancing over my shoulder to make certain that the remaining Carltons have left, I sigh. “Thank you, Lambert. I’m fine, and the Arcanaeum appreciates your gift.”

I take the offered paper and mumble “Risturi,” beneath my breath.

The book is shiny and new and added to the collection before Lambert can drop his transmutation spell. Without it, his skin returns to normal, and North openly gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“Just me being a total badass and saving you from getting torched by a psycho.” Lambert shrugs as if the level of magic required for that spell was nothing special. “Anyway, Kyrith’s right. Time for class.” A pause, followed by a careful look over his shoulder. “Are you coming to this one? Hopkinson is really missing you.”

There’s a tentative hope in his voice, and I look down at the cracks in my arm, grimacing. “I might listen in, but my presence is disruptive.”

“You should sit with us,” Lambert says. “We can?—”

“I might,” I hedge. “But I need a favour. Can you bring food with you tonight?”

“Pizza and tutoring?” Lambert grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I thought food and drink weren’t allowed in the Arcanaeum.” North’s eyes narrow at me, and I look away.

“I can ask someone else?—”

“No, we’ve got this,” Lambert grins. “What’s your favourite pizza? Let me guess, you’re one of those weirdos who eats anchovies and olives?”

“We’re late,” North grumbles, belatedly grabbing his friend’s arm, and dragging him towards Conjurer’s Hall.

Perhaps he, unlike Lambert, has realised that the pizza is not for me.

“We won’t let you down, boss!” Lambert calls as he’s pulled away.

Galileo crosses the Rotunda, following them with a nod at me. “I look forward to our tutoring session tonight,” he murmurs in that silky soft voice of his.

Why does that sound like a threat?