When Owl looked to Leon, though, he found him smiling faintly. “Go, Daniel.” Leon said. “That’s the sign you were waiting for, wasn’t it?”
Not really, no. But it was a first step. He had to figure out where he stood before he could decide what to do next. And there, with his name hanging in the air and his friends filling the Library, he could do it.
He could.
And so Owl nodded, forcing a grin onto his face even though Leon would never see it, and turned back toward the front of Alexandria.
“Be right back.”
- Chapter Three -
The sight of Leon waiting in the lonely hallway hung heavy in Owl’s mind as he strode through the Library. His steps were slow, each movement measured and deliberate.
His thoughts were nowhere near as composed. With every stride he took, Alexandria carrying him past narrow aisles and sweeping staircases, the worries burned ever-louder. Someone was here. He’d unlocked the door, but he hadn’t approved visitors.
Leon and his friends had never used the front door. It seemed to exist entirely for one organization, in fact.
A fact which was no comfort at all.
When he rounded the last corner, coming face to face with the all-too-familiar doorway before him, he came to a stop entirely.
“You know,” he whispered, staring at it. “You kind of suck sometimes, Alex.”
He didn’t want to do this. He was mad, sure—but he had a right to be angry. He’d been used. His hospitality had been turned back against him, by the very people he’d invited in.
Worst of all lay the knowledge that such a play was only possible because of his own vulnerabilities. His desperation. They’d been able to get close to him because he’d let them, looking past their ulterior motives and pretending not to see what was going on. He’d let himself get taken in by a pretty face, and his Library had paid the price.
But Alexandria needed guests. And the only other option he could see was letting Leon and James become the new guild, sourcing him visitors.
Swallow his pride—or let them risk themselves on his behalf?
It wasn’t even a question.
Taking a deep breath, Owl stretched his arms behind him, listening to each bone crackle and pop. He tugged his hood higher, testing the straps that held it to his mask and his mask to his face. They held.
“Let it be said, Alex,” he murmured, kicking at the corner of a gilt rug that jutted from a side passage. “I didn’t want to do this. This was your doing.”
Without another recourse, he summoned up his will, steeling his every nerve—and reached for the handle to the door.
It opened under his grasp, shifting with an angry clunk.
A figure waited beyond, dimly visible in the hazy glow of the low-burning lanterns. A woman. A familiar woman. Owl stepped inside, his eyes glued to her, and slid the door shut behind him. As if he’d give her even the chance to sneak inside or trick him again.
It’d only been a few months on the outside since he’d seen her last. Just a few months, and yet, Indira looked...different. Older. Lines dug into her face, tracing out the corners of her eyes and the furrows between her eyebrows, and even her hair seemed lifeless. She stood, right square in the center of the entryway, and didn’t so much as blink when he opened the door.
He smiled sourly. She looked like she was losing sleep. Maybe it was petty, but that was fine by him. She should be taking this matter seriously.
Part of him wanted to wait, to let her take the first conversational venture. She seemed entirely frozen, though, her jaw moving with words that wouldn’t quite come out.
And so when she didn’t leap into the fray, he came to a stop, lifting himself a bit taller. “Guildmaster,” he said. His voice was low, as neutral as he could make it.
She blinked, as though the word had freed her from whatever spell lay over her. He saw her swallow, chewing on her lip for a single, fleeting moment.
“Librarian,” she said, smiling up at him. For the first time, he realized how small she was—and how much he’d grown, over the years. He’d never considered himself a tall man, but standing next to her made him feel like one. Her expression had a tightness to it, though. “I’m...I’m glad to see that you’re well. Really.”
“Are you?” Owl said, before he could stop himself. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’d assumed, after-”
“After...all of that,” Indira said. “Yes. Well.”
She stopped, her expression going dark. Owl didn’t say anything. She’d shown up here all on her own. She could approach the situation herself.
Besides. Part of him was more than a little curious what she’d say to get out of trouble.
“I heard,” she said at last, her voice hushed. “From Will. And from Olivia. About...About the fire. I was devastated. Such a thing should never have come to pass in-”
“Is that it?” Owl said. “You’re here to worry about Alexandria? About the fire?” He threw an arm out, his fingers stretched wide. “She’s fine, guildmaster. She’ll mend, under my care.” It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see his eyes. He glared daggers at her anyway, venom dripping from every word. “No thanks to your people.”
“Ah,” Indira said. Her fingers tightened against each other. “There is, of course, that.”
“Right,” Owl said. “That.”
“You have to understand,” Indira said. “I…” She hesitated, picking her words carefully. “It pains me for there to be conflict between us and you. But such pain is nothing, nothing, compared to our pain at the thought of damaging your home.”
His fingers tightened against his sleeves. “Like I said. Alexandria is fine. So you can go right back home, reassured that-”
“I’m sorry for what happened between our scholars and you.”
Owl stopped. She was still watching him, her dark eyes unreadable and her lips just a thin line in her weathered face. “Oh?”
