Thankfully, he didn’t follow me to strategy class, though his cinderhawk did, perching a few rows behind us.
“What’s going on between you two?” Lexie asked, sending a sharp look at Trew’s companion.
“Nothing.” And everything.
She snorted. “You can’t fool me. Just…” Her voice softened and sympathy clouded her eyes. “Be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
Her serious expression didn’t fade. “I’m here for you. To talk or to listen or to smack him if he hurts you.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “You’d hit the king?”
“Excuse me,” Malcolm called out from the stage below us. “If you’ll pay attention, please? Our lecture has started.”
I gave him a smile that held an apology, and he continued speaking.
“I mean it,” Lexie hissed. “One word, and I’m on him.”
My minxpip did not show up for magical lessons with Nia in the afternoon. And neither did Trew. I wasn’t sure if I was miffed about the latter or not, so I decided I was going to act as if I wasn’t.
Since we had homework after class, we opted to go to the library to do some research.
Kerralyn’s favorite place.
As we strode down the hall leading to the library, Derren stretched his arms over his head, cracking his joints. “If Nia assigns me another tactical essay, I’m defecting to the enemy.”
“You’d last about an hour,” Lexie said. “Less, if they’re distracted by your whining.”
He clutched his chest. “Cruelty from my own side.”
I smiled. “You do complain a lot, Derren.”
“I prefercommentate.”
“Then commentate quietly,” I said. “We need to do some research.”
Kerralyn swept ahead of us, her journal hugged to her chest. “If you’re all finished dramatizing, we’re nearly there. Maybe stop talking? The librarian despises noise.”
“That seems unfair,” Derren muttered. “How else am I supposed to express my brilliance?”
Lexie elbowed him. “Maybe write it down like normal people?”
The vast double doors loomed ahead, shimmering as we approached. We’d only come here one other time, but the air on this floor always felt cooler, thinner, as if even sound hesitated to intrude.
Kerralyn reached for the brass handle. “Let’s avoid Mistress Helwin. She doesn’t care for interruptions.”
The doors creaked open, and the scent of parchment, dust, and candlewax enveloped us. Like the last time, the library stunned me. Three tiers of shelves arched upward toward a vaulted ceiling painted with unfamiliar stars. Shafts of light fell through tall windows, catching in floating motes, turning them to golden dust.
The librarian sat at a desk on the far right, her head bent as she studied a thick tome open on the smooth wooden surface. She didn’t look up.
“This way,” Kerralyn whispered, basically tiptoeing to our left. “Books on battle tactics are upstairs.”
“We could ask the librarian,” Derren said, starting in that direction.
Kerralyn snagged his arm, holding him back. “No, we can’t.”
“Why not?” I asked.
