“Nowwhywould I do that?”
“His topics of conversation were similar to yours.”
“Clinton was the only person in that room who wanted you as an ally. I said my piece and had no plans to see you again.” She gives him a glowering once-over. “Yet here we are. You’re stubborn, and clearly that overwhelms what little common sense you have.”
“Stubborn?” He chuckles dryly. “Sounds about right.” Hiram steps close enough to see the title of the book in her hand:Theory of Curses.When she plucks a thick volume on amulet and talisman creation, he sizes it up. “Why would a Mage be interested in amulet creation?”
“It takes an inordinate amount of magic to create a single amulet or talisman, which is why Seers can make them with ease. It’s also why they’re regulated. Can’t allow the masses free rein to subvert the consequences of magic use.”
“Would be a shit show,” he agrees.
“What people fail to realize is that anyone can create them. Infusing the magic is as tedious as destroying it—and just as dangerous—but it’s far from impossible.” Veda glances at Hiram. “It takes time and requires patience. I suspect you’re not familiar with either.”
“Believe it or not, I’m a patient man,” he says in a low, private tone as he takes the book from her. Her smugness fades into something unreadable as he opens the first page, flips to the second, then closes it. Veda reaches for it, but he pulls it back. “Aht-aht, I might consider checking this out. You’ve convinced me.”
“You’re so full of—” Veda’s focus shifts to something behind him.
Hiram turns to find Antaris with five books and a hopeful gleam that turns into excitement when he sees Veda.
Her reaction to his son isn’t what he expects.
Shesmiles. The world must be ending. “Hi there.”
To his further confusion, Antaris walks right past him like he’s invisible.
“Oh my, you’ve picked outa lotof books,” Veda says warmly.
Antaris glances back at Hiram, proud.
“Is this your . . .”
“Father?” Hiram smirks at her waning smile. “Why, yes, I am.”
She doesn’t seem surprised.
His smirk fades, eyes sliding from her to Antaris, who’s blinking like a baby owl. “How do you know my son?”
“Are youthatuninvolved as to not know who his tutor is?”
“My mother handles that, but she referred to ... you, I suppose, asMiss Thorne.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ah yes, your mother knows my last name and everything about me. She’s a”—her eyes slide to Antaris, ready with a wide, fake smile—“delight.”
“And during our previous encounters, you didn’t think to mention that you’re tutoring my son?”
“Not my job to tell you what you should already know.”
The look he gives her could melt steel. “You don’t know athingabout—”
A passing librarian shushes them.
Veda pastes on a smile and snatches the book from Hiram, rougher than necessary. When she looks at Antaris, her expression softens. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”
Looking puzzled, Antaris nods slowly.
They watch her go. Hiram’s brain is spinning with questions only Peter can answer, still trying to figure out what the hell just happened. But first, Antaris is back at his side, silently holding out the books, clearly seeking permission to check them out.
Hiram’s pretty sure the limit is five books. “Whatever you want.”
