Page 59 of Liminal

“Is this prick bothering you, boss lady?” Lambert asks, remaining in place.

“Carlton,” Leo acknowledges, stiffly.

“Ó Rinn.” Pierce nods. “Find what you’ll miss most yet?”

I don’t like the knowing glint in his eyes as he looks between the three of them.

Before he can do more than raise a brow in response, Lambert interrupts again.

“Please, boss? Don’t leave me hanging like this.”

“I don’t know what prompted this incommodious display,” I begin, trying hard not to compare the two blonds before me and failing. “But please desist.”

It’s like looking between a friendly Viking puppy and a haughty angelic prince, a comparison that’s only made more apt when Lambert stands, his full height a few inches taller than Pierce.

Too quickly, I realise I’m being surrounded by beautiful heirs. If Dakari and Jasper were here, I’d have a full set of tall, imposing parriarchs-in-waiting.

Part of me shudders at the thought, even as another tiny traitorous feminine part threatens to swoon. Like that will do me any good. It’s not like I can touch them or do anything about my ill-advised attraction.

Tucking the box back into his pocket, Lambert stands and turns to Leo, whispering, “What did that long word mean?”

Pierce scoffs. “My, the university’s standards are slipping.”

“Don’t you all have class?” I snap. “Mr Carlton, you can find your own books. My decision is final.”

“Ah, yes.” Hopkinson coughs to clear his throat, reminding all of us of his presence. “Librarian, I hoped you’d do us the honour of attending this lecture. We’re focusing on the influential arcanists from history, and I’m sure you have some fascinating insights.”

I want to tell him that I’m not that old, but then I realise I probablyhavemet all the arcanists worth remembering in the last half-millennium. Oh dear.

“If you insist.”

Which is how I find myself hovering at the back of the room again as Hopkinson plays with his projector.

“Sit with us!” Lambert says, sidling over to me. “Come on, you look so awkward in the corner. You can have my lap if you want.”

I raise a brow. “Won’t Larissa mind?”

He blinks, honest confusion crinkling his brows. “Who’s that?”

“Ugh, you are just…”

“Handsome? Powerful? Funny? Sexy?”

Yes, but… “Never mind. I’m not sitting with you.”

“Class, your attention please,” Hopkinson calls. “We have a lot of material to cover today! Now, who can tell me who this is?”

With a flourish, he steps aside, tapping the projector to reveal a portrait painted in heavy dark oils which I recognise immediately.

Several hands go up, and Hopkinson calls on the girl at the front of the class.

“Miss Ó Rinn, yes.”

A cousin of Leo’s? I glance at his usual spot, only to find him ignoring the class once again in favour of reading an illusion-covered book.

“The first rector of the university?” the Ó Rinn girl phrases it like a question, though she had enough enthusiasm that I’m certain she knows she’s right.

“Correct! Adolphus Ackland. Those of you who read the assigned reading would know this already.”