The Queen's Librarian (27 page)

Lucas had a look too, and decided he would have done the same. Because right. That was where Vessa had gotten the eyebrow from.

“It’s all right, Parry,” Lucas tried to appease. “Well, not
all right
, but it, um…. I suppose it was a sort of halfway decent, if somewhat illegal, thought.”

The Queen patted Lucas’s head. She actually
patted his head
!

“There, you see? I’ve no doubt my nephew would have set things to rights the moment he realized what was happening.” She set a rather dole and meaningful look on Parry.

“Um. Aunt?” Lucas ventured.

“We shall deal with that bit later, dear.”

“Well, yes, I’m sure, but—” Lucas fidgeted and ignored Alex’s satisfied little
ha!
because Alex had run out of smug points the minute he started making eyes at Vessa, as far as Lucas was concerned. “You’re not going to, um… like, let Dorset loose on Parry or anything, are you?”

Dorset must have heard, because he was eyeing Parry with a speculative gleam. Parry didn’t seem to have heard anything at all, because he was eyeing Dorset right back with confused trepidation.

The Queen didn’t reply, but she did look thoughtful, and Lucas didn’t know how to feel about that, because it looked like he’d just given her an idea she hadn’t thought of before and of which she was growing more fond the longer she pondered it. And now that Lucas was thinking about it, he wasn’t so sure he’d mind seeing Dorset waling on Parry.

Only a little!

“I don’t actually…
dislike
him,” Lucas whispered to her, because he knew his aunt, and he knew she was probably angry about the whole snatch-the-rights-to-the-Circle thing, but she was probably even angrier over the whole suspicion-of-taking-advantage-of-my-nephew thing. “I mean, we
were
friends, once, and he
was
my first kiss, though now that kind of makes me throw up in my mouth a little. I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t like it at the time. Well, actually, I don’t even really know if I did or I didn’t, it was all rather fast, and I didn’t get a chance to… um. Well.” God, now he was blushing. “It was my mother, you see. She sort of… put a stop to it before it got started.”

“Ah,” said the Queen with that little moue of distaste that always appeared whenever the subject of Lucas’s mother came up. “Say no more. I understand perfectly, darling. Although, for once where your mother’s meddling is concerned, I’d have to say this one probably worked out for the best.”

Lucas nodded. “Well, yes, I’d say so, because—”

“Lucas, dear, do shut up now.”

“Yes, Aunt. Sorry, Aunt.”

“Now, then.” The Queen handed the book back to Lucas and patted at Bramble’s head. She clasped her hands together and turned to Cráwa and Mister Scontun. “It seems the last mystery would be your parts in all of this.”

Lucas held up a finger. “Actually, I have more—”

“The last one I care about, dear.” The Queen tilted her head, circlet glinting. “Honestly, Cráwa. Magical brawls in the Circle? Involving poor Lucas in adventures of intrigue?” She shook her head and
tsked
. “Explain.”

Lucas almost objected to the “poor Lucas” part, but the Queen’s face—and the fact that he’d been lamenting the same to himself for two days now—stopped him. It was the same look she used to give Lucas when he and Laurie had got up to some kind of mischief that had sent half the castle’s staff screaming. Well, when Laurie had got up to mischief and Lucas had failed to—or chosen not to—stop him.

“I cannot, Your Majesty,” Cráwa replied, and he genuinely did look quite contrite.

Mister Scontun started babbling again, gesturing wildly at the book and then at Cráwa. Cráwa nodded wearily at him then inclined his head to the Queen.

“If Your Majesty would permit me, there might be something in that book that will… help.”

Lucas hugged the book to his chest again. After all of this, he didn’t think he wanted to let Cráwa near it. But the Queen nodded at him and flicked her eyebrow, so Lucas had no real choice. He sighed and slumped to show his displeasure, but he held the book out to Cráwa.

Cráwa shook his head and nodded at Laurie. “If Young Sire would be so kind.”

“Er.” Laurie frowned at his mother, and when she merely shrugged back, he reached out and took the book from Lucas. Still frowning, he flipped through it, nod-nod-nodding, then he stopped abruptly and turned several pages back. His mouth dropped open and he snapped a look up at Cráwa. “Oh, you’re joking.”

“Yes,” Cráwa replied dryly, “because I always do that.”

“But—” Laurie shook his head. “It’s a silencing spell, Mother. If you cast it just right, you could choose any subject and your victim would never be able to speak on it again until the spell was lifted.”

“And what is the first rule of setting a spell, Young Sire?” Cráwa asked, looking down his nose at Laurie, ever the lecturer to the recalcitrant student.

“That you cannot set one that doesn’t have a counter-spell,” Laurie said and eagerly began flipping through pages again. He stopped only a few pages in and said, “
Aha
!” with a grin. “Brilliant!”

“We shall see,” was Cráwa’s skeptical reply. “If Your Majesty would…?”

“You want
me
to…?” Laurie gaped for a moment before his grin won out again.

“You have passed one test,” Cráwa said. “You have used your power in a display meant to aid Queen and Country. Now we shall see how you do on test number two.”

Laurie’s eyebrow went up. “And what happens if I muck it up and just sort of… shut you up permanently?”

Lucas wasn’t sure if he liked the gleam in Laurie’s eye.

Cráwa’s mouth pinched down. “Then His Majesty should know that I do not always need words to cast spells that one might find… painful. Or embarrassing. Or painful
and
embarrassing.”

“Behave, Laurie dear,” said the Queen. “And get on with it.”

Laurie did. And it was a lot less exciting than Lucas had thought it would be. Laurie’s hands didn’t even glow this time. When he was through, he stepped back and asked, “So does this mean you’ll take me on as apprentice, then?”

Cráwa rolled his eyes. “Ask me a question.”

Laurie blinked. “I think I just did.”

“About Tarcen! Or Daimin. Or something other than
that
.”

“Ah.” Laurie titled his head. “So what did Tarcen have to do with closing the Circle? And were you in on it?”

“I was not,” Cráwa said with a lift of his chin, and then he paused, as if surprised, sighed a little and went on, “I was still apprentice to him when he began his conspiracy with Booths Brinley. Brinley had his reasons for wanting the Daimin banished—reasons of which you are now aware—but Tarcen actually cast the banishing spell.” His mouth pursed in clear disapproval. “You see, if there were no more Daimin, there would be no more Daimin magic, and the Crown would—”

“And the Crown would become more dependent upon its Court Magician,” the Queen finished for him. She shook her head with a sigh. “And I thought he was such a lovely man. Grandmother
adored
him.”

“He cast the silencing spell on me that very first night.” Cráwa dipped his head to the Queen. “It was very strong, Your Majesty. I could not advise your grandmother, I could not so much as hint. When Mister Parry came to me with the book only a few months ago, I could not even touch it to see if the counter-spell was in it. I advised him to hide it and showed him your great-grandfather’s liquor cabinet until such time as I could find a magician who could lift the spell for me so that I might explain and avoid any ill intentions the Daimin might still be harboring over their abrupt and cruelly unfair banishment.” He inclined his head toward Laurie. “I confess I did not guess such a magician was right under my nose.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, taking that in, except for Laurie, who peered over at the great block of stone and the recess behind it with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a liquor cabinet?” He turned to his mother. “Was Great-great-gran’da a drunk or something?”

“Laurie!”

“What?” He waved at the stone. “It’s like a dragon’s den, he could have fit barrels and barrels back there!
Ooh
, d’you think he had a dragon?”

The Queen rolled her eyes. “And
do
the Daimin harbor any lingering ill intentions?” she asked Mister Scontun.

Mister Scontun spat out a long string of blather, accompanied by lots of gesturing, but what it all seemed to amount to was,

“No,” Slade told the Queen. “Some bruised feelings, perhaps, but my father seems to think it can all be smoothed over, should certain select parties be amenable. A meeting at most, Your Majesty.”

The Queen narrowed her eyes. “Certain parties?”

“Ah. Right.” Slade flushed and cleared his throat then looked over at Vessa. “You see, I have this brother….”

T
HEY
’
D
all filed out almost an hour ago, just as the sun started to rise over the battlements. Presumably, they would continue to hash and rehash—with lots of embellishments from Laurie, no doubt—and start informal negotiations, and Lucas had absolutely no interest in any of it.

It was only Lucas and Alex left in the Library tower, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the still upturned table, legs stretched out and Bramble sprawled across them. They were quiet, watching weak yellow sunlight dribble across the gray stone floor, tired enough to fall asleep where they sat but still too keyed up to actually pass out.

Lucas, for one, couldn’t stop staring at Restoration Studies, L through R, and wailing a silent lament for
The Rebuilding of Dresslau Bridge
, because he’d acquired it for a song and the binding had never even been breached. And that wasn’t even counting all the other volumes that were now nothing more than scorched confetti.

“The Queen invited us to breakfast,” Alex mumbled eventually. “Should be serving it soon.”

“Mm,” Lucas agreed. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Lucas rested his head on Alex’s shoulder. “She gave us a room too. So we can sleep and freshen up a bit before we head home.”

“Generous,” was all Alex said.

A tiny smirk twitched at Lucas’s mouth. “It’s probably nowhere near Vessa’s room.”

“You—” Alex poked him in the ribs, which made him jump and loose a high-pitched chuckle. “I was
not
making eyes at her!”

“You were!” Lucas argued and laughed some more when Alex tackled him. Alex ignored Bramble’s low
woof
! of objection and dug his fingers into Lucas’s ribs with tickling fingers. “All right, all right, I give, you weren’t making eyes at her!” Lucas cried until Alex let him up. Then he scooted away and added, “Except for when you were!” and he scrambled back behind Bramble. Bramble might not make a very good attack dog, but he made an excellent barrier.

“I wasn’t!” Alex insisted, a little more vehemently and a lot less humorously than Lucas had thought.

Lucas sobered a little but he kept the grin. “You were.” He held up his hand when Alex scowled and opened his mouth. “But it’s all right. Want to know why?”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Is this a trick question? Like, if I say ‘Yes, I’d like to know why,’ you’ll say, ‘
Aha
! So you
were
making eyes at her’?”

“It is not a trick question, and you may reserve the right of continued denial, even though we both know better.”

“I also reserve the right of denial to that ‘we both know better’ part, but go ahead—tell me why.”

Lucas scooted around Bramble, nudged in close to Alex, and rested his head on Alex’s shoulder again. “First, because Vessa is a beautiful young woman, and you’d have to be blind or dead not to give her a second look.” He waited for an objection, and when it didn’t come, he grinned and lifted his chin to set a light kiss below Alex’s ear. “And second, because the whole time you were ogling Vessa—”

“I was not
ogling
—”

“—the whole time you were
glancing disinterestedly
at Vessa,” Lucas allowed, “your hand was clamped on my shoulder so tight the Wardens themselves wouldn’t have been able to drag me out of your grip.” He settled back and stretched out his legs again. “You are a possessive, mouthy, brother-of-Anson-Booker git,” he said around a yawn. “You throw yourself between me and any perceived threat—be it magic-wielding Daimin or a butterfly with a suspicious glint in its eye. You make me eat my vegetables. You nag me worse than my mother does about sleeping properly and wearing a suitable coat. You try to lend me money every time I do the accounts when you’re at mine, and you get worried that someone like Parry might steal me away—not because you don’t want me to be as happy as I can possibly be, but because you know you’re the only one who can make that happen.” He sat up. “In short, you treat me like a delicate flower. And worse—you make me
like
it!” He turned and gave Alex a snog, good and sloppy, then drew back with a grin. “Also, you might have
looked
at Vessa, but I’m the only one who gets
The Eyes
. I checked.”

“
The Eyes
?” Alex echoed suspiciously, but he seemed to ken that he was in a lot less trouble than he’d thought, so he let it go. He reached for Lucas and dragged him in close. Bramble, seemingly tired of all the disruptions and displacements, huffed the dog equivalent of a
harrumph
and turned a circle to lay himself against the upturned table. “So no letting Parry steal you away, then.” Alex’s tone was light, but Lucas knew better.

“Never. Now Dorset, on the other hand….”

Alex blinked at him. Twice. “
Dorset
?”

Lucas shrugged. “He was… weirdly impressive.”

There was a lot of staring, before Alex finally allowed, “I… suppose.” He lifted an eyebrow. “But not Parry.”

“Not Parry.”

“Not even after all of… this?” Alex waved his hand around. “The romantic past? The book?” He paused, then whispered in Lucas’s ear, “The
gold
?”