Page 66 of Liminal

“Tomorrow,” I promise Dakari, as I tuck the exhausted arcanist back under the sheets, those warm eyes once again sliding closed. “He should be more awake then. I’d like him to get out of bed and start using his muscles. It will give you time to catch up.”

My magic slips out and brushes a lock of hair out of his sleeping face.

Dakari looks up from where he’s finishing off his own food and nods. “He doesn’t remember.”

“The result of a few lesser ensorcellments, no doubt.” I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’m not. “Any sensible person would regularly cast a few of those over him, just in case he escaped.”

One thing has become clear during my treatment; Jasper is a powerful arcanist. His magical well is damaged right now, but when he’s fully recovered, he’ll be a force to be reckoned with.Not to mention, Clan McKinley’s retribution would be swift and painful for all those involved. The Carltons would’ve known that and taken the appropriate precautions.

“Can we undo them?”

Is he always so impatient?

I sigh. “Time, Dakari. He needs time. He’s only just woken up; that does not mean he’s ready to be interrogated or spelled to within an inch of his life. His magical well has been cracked to the point where it’s a miracle he’s still breathing, and then there’s the obvious trauma he’ll have to deal with when hedoesremember. If you can’t be gentle with him, I suggest you return to the hunt for that grimoire.”

The one that Leo is also searching for. And North. And Josef.

North wants it for his father, which suggests either Ackland never had the grimoire in the first place, or that Josef or some other forebear lost it and now they want it back. Galileo wants it on my behalf. He has no reason to do that unless he intends to demand something big from me in return.

Something to do with his ensorcellment? Generational magic like that is tricky, and it tends to get stronger rather than weaker. Lesser ensorcellments, like those used on Jasper, inevitably fall apart on their own and leave no mark on their victims. Then there are established, or anchored, ensorcellments, which appear as a runeform on the target’s skin, and then sustain themselves using the victim’s magic or life force. It’s such a slight drain that it normally has no adverse effect, other than its intended purpose. Which led to an insufferable fad of self-confidence ensorcellments a few years ago.

I’ve broken established ones before, but it took work. Lots of work.Monthsof work.

I’ve never broken a generational one before. I’m not even sure if I can. They’re rooted beyond the magical level, in blood. IfGalileo finds Ackland’s grimoire, and then tries to trade my cure for his own, then there’s a good chance I’m done for.

I float below the Rotunda’s glass dome on my back in the darkness, still fretting over the possibilities. He’s not unreasonable. If I can’t do it, then…

Then he might resort to threats, and he’s one of the few arcanists who actually has enough knowledge and power to follow through on them.

No. I’m working myself up over nothing.

“Hey, boss lady?” Lambert’s voice cuts through the silence, and I stiffen. “I don’t want to interrupt your…swimming? But we’ve got the January exams coming up in just over a month and…”

There’s a muffled slap, and I flip over onto my front to see Leo with him on the marbled floor beneath me.

“Is it that time already?” I wonder aloud, merging with the fabric of the Arcanaeum and reappearing behind them.

I stop, frowning. “Where’s Northcliff?”

My attention drifts to the vault door, and the Arcanaeum magics another lock onto the already obscene number of deadbolts along the inside in response.

He’s not down there, or attempting to break in. Not yet anyway.

“Late, I guess.” Lambert shrugs. “He might be out celebrating. He actually got a passing grade on that last assignment.”

“Took him long enough,” Galileo murmurs, only to receive an amused eye roll from Lambert.

“If you keep being so grumpy, I’m going to change my mind about calling you my favourite cousin.”

“You calleveryonethat,” Galileo remarks dryly. “It’s hardly a mark of distinction.”

“It’s not my fault our ancestors got a bit too carried away with the inbreeding?—”

“It was hardly inbreeding. There were standards. Besides, you don’t even know how we’re related, do you?”

“Eh. Does it matter? At one point, our ancestors probably bumped uglies, right?”

“You should pay more attention to your family politics.”