Disclaimer: I do not own the His Dark Materials Series.

A/N: Okay, two things—chapter 40! WOW! This story has been going for a long time, and I really appreciate all of you who've been reading and reviewing over the years. You make it all worth it! And to those who may have recently found this story, welcome! I've been writing it for a while as these characters (Mrs. Coulter especially) are very near and dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy this tale as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Second—I apologize for my long delays in updating. It's been…over a year now! So long. And I'm sorry this update is so short. I'm a busy grad student working year-round to earn a doctorate and all, but this story means a lot to me and I will update whenever I am able to. I have a bit of a lull in my schedule right now, so here's hoping I can continue it for a while.

Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think :)

Luxurious Lies

40.

Accruing Academics

"I'm just an academic." Throwing down his rucksack, Asriel turned over and glared at Serafina, who met his gaze coolly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know very well what it means."

Didn't she? The nerve of these witches, thinking they're so wise and so understanding of the human condition. She had no idea. She hadn't the faintest idea of how hard all this was for him, how ridiculous it all was, how impossible she was being. Stelmaria growled, and Lord Asriel himself almost growled as he glared back up at the witch.

They still couldn't believe they had gotten themselves into this situation: captured by a witch during political times of torment and intensity. It was bad enough to be claimed by a witch as your lover, since a witch's heart shows so mercy and no restraint, but it was even worse timing since Asriel was caught in the midst of trying to help his daughter escape the hands of the wretched Magisterium, who'd heard certain prophecies and wanted her very badly.

"I can't keep doing this, Serafina," Asriel continued, kicking the rucksack in front of him. "I'm not Farder Coram. I wasn't born a Gyptian with traveling in my blood and academics on the side. I'm just an academic who travels out of necessity for research. I can't keep living like this."

How long did she expect him to do this? And what were they even doing there? They'd traveled from town to town in the north getting supplies to supposedly shut down the Magisterium's operations at Bolvanger (and everywhere, apparently). Her plan, Serafina said, was for Asriel to keep the Magisterium preoccupied with his "tyrannical research" while she and the witches investigated them and their activities further. Asriel would then eventually move in to "obliterate" them. But how many supplies did they need? And how could mere supplies and materials stop the driving force of an entire organization? What were they even doing?

Perhaps she's just keeping you busy… And away from the Coulter woman.

Lord Asriel froze just then, staring at his daemon and then at Serafina, who hadn't reacted a bit to him. Maybe Stelmaria was right. And if that were true, it would be worse than anything else.

"Am I just your pet now?" he finally asked, stepping closer to the witch. He had nothing to lose at the moment, after all. "Was that your plan? Just keep me busy like a spoiled child?"

"Oh, Asriel," Serafina sang, smiling as he stopped a few inches in front of her. "You don't wish to know what I have planned for you."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I'm just an academic." Wyatt was sweating, dressed up in his best suit with his hair delicately gelled back. Mrs. Coulter was fixing his tie and could feel his body trembling.

"What are you talking about, dear?"

They were close – so close. The plan was for Wyatt to speak to the Magisterium, telling them that Lord Asriel was dangerous and that Mrs. Coulter had no choice but to return to Brytan for refuge. Even though it was risky, Mrs. Coulter could work on the outside to investigate further, they would tell the Church. Entangled with a witch, Lord Asriel was still on the loose and only Mrs. Coulter could intervene. No one knew where the child was, but again, Mrs. Coulter could find her. She was the perfect agent. Everything was going according to plan, he'd say.

Ha! The fools.

"I'm just an academic!" He pulled away from her and paced to the other side of the room, his panther demon unsheathing her claws. His forehead was beading up. "They won't listen to me! Who am I to talk to them?"

He was having doubts. Such a human thing – to doubt so strongly that you lose faith in yourself. Wyatt was as brilliant as any scholar, but one extra thing he possessed was an inherent kindness and charisma that made others believe him. Aristotle might have called it ethos, the way in which Wyatt could make himself seem credible and trustworthy. But Mrs. Coulter called it brilliance. And it would be enough.

They were on their last legs, Mrs. Coulter would admit. She and Lyra had been running from the north for weeks now, and the Magisterium was bound to notice her absence. This was their last chance. It was their only chance. And Wyatt had to get it together to finalize the execution.

"And you're just an academic, too," he shouted at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Does this look familiar?" His face hard, Wyatt slammed a thick, brown book on the table titled Bronze Clocks in Benin.

That's our book, the monkey thought, and they were transported back to their months away in the South with the Benin people, playing with bronze and learning the unlearned with a man and his snow leopard daemon miles and worlds apart from them now…

"Darling," she finally said, shaking away her thoughts, "I think we need to calm down for a moment. Would you please sit down?"

Despite his temper, he listened. Wyatt was a reasonable man. His anger never lasted for long. They would get through this.

Mrs. Coulter would make sure of it, one way or another.

"Am I just an academic?" Mrs. Coulter and her daemon were alone in the living room, she on the sofa and he on her shoulders.

"No." The golden monkey scowled. "You're better than that. Better than them."

And maybe they were. Maybe they weren't. Wyatt had set out for the Church now, taking with him his best suit and all of his notes and talking points. Lyra was asleep in the guest room. Wyatt would be back in a few hours, to report on the Lord Surveyor's status and permissions. And then they would be free to proceed however they were to proceed.