18
I made my way to the library with some feelings of mild apprehension. Jay might justifiably kill me for having left him to fret all day. Val might justifiably murder me for having failed to get her the contents of Merlin’s grimoire.
My life was in all kinds of danger, lately.
I found Jay sitting in one of the deep, silver-brocaded chairs before the hearth in the main hall of the library. Those self-same chairs I hardly saw anyone use, until recently when Val sat there with Crystobel Elvyng.
Now Jay sat alone, a book on his lap but his gaze fixed upon the empty grate. He didn’t look worried so much as forlorn, which tore at my heart-strings rather a lot.
‘For a man pretending to read, you’re doing an abominable job,’ I said.
He looked up sharply, and then sat up, so fast he almost
