A small crease appeared between Probity’s brows, as if Claire had asked a question that troubled her. “Yes.”
“Probity’s an amazing muse,” Brevity interjected. “Her skill with inspiration gilt is better than anyone’s, and the way she can work with even old gilt—”
“You remember that,” Probity said with a soft color to her cheeks.
“Why?” Claire asked, too sharp and too quick. Hell, her social skills had gotten rusty. “Why visit now?”
The blush curdled on Probity’s cheeks and she frowned. Brevity rushed in. “Of course, I’m thrilled to see you again. But the muses haven’t been exactly . . . communicative . . . with the Unwritten Wing in recent years.”
“And we regret the breakdown as much as we’re sure the Library does.” Probity’s eyes flicked once to Claire, wary as a cat’s, but then were all warmth and kindness for Brevity and the others. “I am here because we thought, with the change of curatorship, we could make amends. Offer support to the Library and the books.”
“Support.” Hero repeated the word, and for once Claire was grateful for his prickly suspicion. He crossed his arms. “Everyone seems so interested in supporting us since the fire.”
Rami grunted his agreement, and the sour look on his face said he was thinking of Malphas, the entirely terrifying demon general of Hell who had visited Claire in the aftermath and instigated all the changes in the wake of Andras’s downfall. To be precise, the books of the Library had removed Claire as the librarian, but it was Malphas who had delivered the message. Probity’s genuine interest was a thin veneer at best, so it was no wonder Rami and Hero looked on any new offers of help the way one would look on a rabid raccoon playing dead.
“Hero,” Brevity said softly. “Don’t be rude.”
Claire opened her mouth with a reply but closed it just as quickly. There was a precise tilt to Brevity’s shoulders, and her hands bunched at her sides, as if cradling a small and fragile thing.
Claire forced her jaw to relax, her tension to leak out. Probity seemed fond of Brevity, and if they were childhood friends she could imagine what hopes Brev might harbor about muses and the Library. And here her supposed friends were picking fights like alley cats. It was Claire’s doing, and she should be the one to make the effort. She took a deep breath, swallowed her dislike, and held out a hand. “Of course. As the Arcanist, I hope we can build a cooperative relationship with the corps.”
Brevity’s smile was so grateful it made Claire feel even worse. Probity, for her part, considered Claire’s hand with a doubtful hesitation. “That is kind but unnecessary. The muses have no relationship or business with the Arcane Wing.”
“Probity!” It was Probity’s turn to get scolded by Brevity’s big eyes. “I invited Claire and Hero up here to introduce you. We’re all members of the Library. Claire taught me everything.”
Claire was watching closely, so it was possible that only she noticed the quiet anger that flinched across Probity’s face, then was gone. “She did. Even in the corps we heard about the former librarian and her methods.”
“Probity,” Brevity said, a little bit plaintively, “Claire is a friend.”
For her part, Claire held still, and all it took was a single finger raised behind her back to get Rami to do the same. She reviewed what she could surmise about a muse named Probity. A muse of probity would be a muse of rightness and moral justice, and, like all muses, would maintain a fluid identity influenced by the human world. Brevity had always been the domain of women, by matter of necessity—less air to breathe, less room to speak. Justice, at the moment, appeared to be a pastel-colored woman with the grit of judgment in her eyes.
When someone decided to hate you, for whatever reason, there was rarely any good in trying to convince them otherwise. Claire couldn’t stop the old taste of guilt that rose, however. She hadn’t been a good librarian. Not for many of the years of her service. She’d been miserable and cold and downright cruel to Brevity even, at first. Until Brevity had worn down her defenses.
Evidently her temperament had gone uncensored, but not unnoticed, by the muses.
There was no fault in Probity’s observations. It was deserved, and defending herself would only make Brevity more miserable, so Claire forced her lips into an accepting grimace. “Yet I believe we can both agree that Brevity makes an excellent librarian.”
Probity seemed caught off guard but nodded once. “That goes without saying.”
It did not go without saying, judging by the way surprise slowly melted into a vibrating kind of happiness as Brevity looked back and forth between them. “I knew you two would hit it off. Brill.”
Claire ignored the strain in that pronouncement. She could pretend, quite a lot, for Brevity’s sake. She owed her that much at least. “Of course. I did have some Library business to discuss with you, as a matter of fact. . . .”
Claire glanced pointedly at Probity, but judging by their faces it appeared neither of the muses understood common concepts like privacy and discretion. Brevity straightened imperceptibly, putting on her very best serious face. “Right. What’s up?”
“We found a damsel wandering in the Arcane Wing,” Claire said with as much patience as she could muster. “Again.”
“Oh.” Brevity’s face fell. She craned around Claire. “Rosia?”
The shadow behind Rami was empty. He frowned at it, then nodded. “I told her she could run off to the suite when you two started . . . discussing.”
Claire ignored the pirouette Rami had executed around the tension in the room in favor of addressing her concern straight on. “That’s the third time this week.”
Brevity studied her hands. “I know.”
“If the damsels are unhappy—”
“That’s a concern for the librarian, is it not?” Probity interrupted quietly. She offered a harmless smile when Claire frowned at her. “I mean, I am only a muse, but surely you have your own charges to worry about, Arcanist.”
Claire’s title slid off Probity’s tongue of polite sympathy. A syrupy quality of kindness that made her stomach roil. Claire pursed her lips. “I did not cede my personal investment in the Library when I stepped down. If the damsels are not kept in hand, it puts the entire wing at risk—”
“Which is the sole responsibility of the librarian,” Brevity said in a whisper. She was studying her hands, shoulders curved in like shields. “I appreciate your support, Probity, but Claire is right. If there’s a problem, it’s my fault.”
“That’s not true. None of this is your fault; if she hadn’t as librarian—” Probity started when Brevity held up a hand.