I managed to forget about him entirely once class began.
I took copious notes the whole ninety minutes, transfixed as Forsooth outlined the basic principles of Advanced Theurgy and talked about its relationship to theosophy as the branch of study relating to theurgy’s philosophical underpinnings. He managed to talk the entire session without repeating any of what I’d read in his book already. He wrote in the air with magical light, drawing, re-drawing, and illuminating the threads and structures connecting Magicals to the non-physical primals that made their magic functional. He rotated those structures in the air, changed colors and brightness to show the different layers.
He outlined every part of the intricate, quasi-mathematical structure that tied him to his own primal, the friendly bear I remembered from test day.
I sketched and wrote it all down, practically word-for-word, and at the end, Forsooth asked if anyone had questions. I had so many, I didn’t know which one to ask before the time ran out and he’d dismissed us all until Friday.
I was packing up my textbook and my pile of notes, when something fluttered into my line of vision and landed gracefully on the back of my hand.
It looked like a bird. I felt the magic pulsing from it as soon as it alighted. It ruffled its wings, glowing faintly with a familiar-feeling, smoky light.
I captured it carefully with my free hand, somehow knowing there was more to it than a pretty trick. Only once I held it, the bird stopped moving, and quickly transformed into a folded piece of parchment.
I opened it on my desk.
LIBRARY. FIFTH FLOOR.
MAGICAL ARCHITECTURE.
NEAR THE CLOCK.
NINE O’CLOCK.
DON’T BE LATE…LOVE.
I stared at the perfect, disturbingly precise handwriting, and felt my jaw harden. I wished I hadn’t known, with annoying, unquestioning certainty, exactly who had sent it.
I particularly couldn’t help staring at the last word he’d written, like he simplycould notrestrain himself from making a crack about the endearment Darragh used that morning, or refrain from letting me know he’d heard it. He couldn’t stop himself being an obnoxious idiot even in a private note no one would see but me.
That Darragh had so obviously used the word in a way meant to be friendly and nothing more, clearly didn’t matter.
What an absoluteprathe was.
The real mystery was how no one had yet managed to murder Caelum Bones.
I considered blowing him off.
I considered letting nine o’clock come and go, maybe taking a bath, or reading in bed, or possibly having a tea by the fire in that lovely common room in Malcroix Mansion.
Anywhere but where he’d ordered me to be.
I particularly wasn’t keen on letting him dictate my movements on the very first day of our new “arrangement.” Caelum Bones very much struck me as the sort of person who would abuse any opening I gave him. Any sign of compromise, consideration, weakness, however slight, and he’d exploit it to the absolutelimithe could get away with.
I shouldn’t come when he snapped his fingers.
I definitely shouldn’t make an effort to be on time.
But everything in me balked at the different push-backs I considered.
Ihatedbeing late.
And I genuinely wanted his help, far more than he likely had any interest in giving it.
Since he’d already gotten what he wanted out of me that day, meeting up that night had to be about him doing for me what he’d agreed to do. Which also meant, if I ignored his summons, or even made him wait, he might not offer it again, not until he needed me.
Which likely meant at least a week.
I went to the library’s fifth floor.
