Sword and Pen (The Great Library #5)(105)

“Thank you for your concern,” she said, “but we are in the middle of coordinating—”

“I don’t care,” Dario interrupted. “I need you safe.”

She drew herself up to her full height and met his gaze squarely. “Scholar,” she said, and kept her voice calm and quiet. “What I need from you is obedience. Take these soldiers and leave the room. You may secure it from outside if you like. I will order the shutters closed. But you must go. Now.” She turned to the lieutenant in charge of the High Garda. “And you need to understand who to obey. You obey me, the members of the Curia, and only after us, a full Scholar, no matter what his relationship to me might be. Do you understand this?”

He seemed shocked, but he nodded and composed himself quickly. “Yes, Archivist. My apologies. I believed there was a direct and immediate threat to your safety.”

“Not in this room,” she said. “And I trust you to prevent any from reaching it. Scholar Santiago? A word.”

She turned and walked toward the farthest corner of the room, and heard his footsteps follow her after a few seconds of silence. She didn’t turn until he reached her. “This will not happen again,” she told him. “Dario, I am not your querida. I am the Archivist and Pharaoh of the Great Library, and you will not do this again. Do you understand?” She leveled a stare on him, and knew he felt it. She saw him flinch from the deep cut she’d just delivered. She didn’t like it, but she knew it was necessary.

“I was just—”

“I know what you were doing,” she interrupted. “I love you, Dario. But I will not be ordered about, or silenced, or overruled. In private, we are equals. Here, we are not and we can never be. Do you understand?”

He held in whatever anger he felt, though she saw a muscle clench tight along his jaw. “I understand.” The words were quiet and very clear. “My apologies, Archivist. I am yours to command.” She waited for the but. He managed to avoid it. She gave him full credit for it; she wouldn’t have thought he could. “We questioned the captain of the Elites. He said that you were to be killed here, in the Serapeum.”

“Lord Commander Santi authorized additional guards,” she said. “Do you not think I am kept aware? Dario. My love. You must trust that I know what I’m doing, or this will not work between the two of us. I’m honored by your passion, but—”

“But I undermined your authority,” he said, and bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I only meant to guard you.”

“I’ve taken the highest office in the Great Library. That entails risk. And I can’t be seen to be afraid of it.”

This time, he didn’t speak at all. Only nodded. And that was when she knew he understood.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and gently kissed him. “For knowing when to stop.”

He smiled a little, but there was a bleak distance in his eyes she didn’t fully understand. “Oh, I don’t,” he said. “Not where your safety is concerned. But I’ll be more careful.” He bowed. Not even a trace of mockery. “With your permission, Archivist, I’ll withdraw from the room. I’ll be right outside when you need me.”

She nodded, and hoped the warmth in her gaze was enough to bridge the distance.

Dario straightened and headed for the door. The last soldier in the room was at the windows, cranking down the metal shutters.

He was killed by a sphinx as it glided in through the opening, silent on its metal wings. It speared him through the chest with talons as long as an eagle’s, and flung him across the room in a spray of torn flesh and blood.

Dario’s hand went for a sword that was missing from his belt, and then he drew his dagger.

Litterae Vargas shouted, “High Garda! Defend the Archivist!” And the doors that had just shut flew open as they rushed in.

Khalila had a knife that was already in her hand even before the shock hit her—shock that immediately vanished like mist under the sun, with determination and anger taking its place. They dare to kill here again. High Garda soldiers ran to her and surrounded her in a wall of bodies, and the Curia members dived for protection behind an overturned table—but the sphinx wasn’t coming for them.

It turned its Pharaoh’s head straight toward her, and shrieked.

Dario stepped out of the protection of the High Garda. “No!” Khalila cried, but she knew what he was doing, and why. I can do this. I don’t need you to do it for me. But that wasn’t true. When she was just Scholar Khalila Seif, she would have risked herself freely. But the same position that meant he couldn’t command her meant that she couldn’t order him not to protect her, either.

He gave her a flash of a smile, cocky as ever, and she saw for the first time that he had blood in his hair, blood on his shirt—how had she missed it before?

Then he was moving.

He ran at the sphinx, dodged a swipe from a taloned paw, and then another. He buried his sword in one of the thing’s eyes, and as it lifted its head and let out another violent scream, he twisted in close and jammed his fingers up under the thing’s chin. Then he rolled under it, between the slashing paws, and curled into a ball with his hands covering his head. He was helpless if it hadn’t worked, if it turned on him . . .

But it stopped, midturn, with its claws hovering a few inches above his body.