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“Indeed. We thank you.”
“My pleasure. Are either of you hungry? The Anarki were very rude to storm in before breakfast.”
Olivia nods. “Famished.”
“Food will be ready in ten minutes. You’ll find the dining room down the stairs and to your left. Follow the scent of eggs and sausage.”
“Thank you. Marrok and I are grateful to you and your brother.”
“It’s our pleasure.”
Naturally. Bram is one step closer to the Book of Doomsday.
Sabelle turns away, then whirls back. “Oh, I almost forgot—” She snaps, and a small leather volume appears in her hands. “This is for you. It’s a simple book of spells to get you started. My brother says you were not raised with magic?”
Olivia accepts the weathered manual. “Not at all.”
“This will help catch you up so you can perform basic magic before transition. You won’t be setting lakes on fire, but with practice, you can perform some necessary bits…like hiding the diary from my brother.”
With a wink, she’s gone.
The moment I shut the door, Olivia frowns. “She doesn’t want her brother to have the book?”
I shrug. Sibling rivalry? A performance? Something more nefarious?
Olivia opens the little volume, then scans and flips pages. “Hmm. What if I got you a hunk of wood? You could carve a hiding place for the diary, maybe something that would… I don’t know, attach to the furniture or mount to the ceiling somehow? And maybe we could find a creative way to lock it.”
I stare at her. Naught about involving Gray. Simply the two of us, working together.
With fresh hope, I peer around the room again. Possibilities leap out at me, like attaching it under the massive bed. I can carve something to the book’s dimensions that blends beneath the existing frame.
Her solution may seem simple, but ’tis workable.
“You like that?” she asks with a hesitant smile.
“Aye, love.” I cannot resist kissing her.
Olivia beams. Mayhap I have rushed to judge her. ’Tis possible that growing up apart from magic has kept her spirit less tainted. I was rash to compare her to Morgana. She cannot help the bloodline she was born to. I misjudged her, and I should not mistake her excitement to meet her father as blind devotion.
Or perhaps she lets you grow complacent before stabbing you in the back.
I hate to even consider that, but ignoring the possibility only endangers her and the book more.
Time will tell. If Olivia is a typical Le Fay, her blood will soon be screaming.
* * *
Bram
“You high-handed prick! What’s this bloody summons about?”
I stare at Isdernus Rykard. At nearly six and a half feet tall with blazing green eyes, he’s a wizard no one intelligent tangles with. I don’t count myself as stupid. But desperate times… Having Ice under my roof is definitely a desperate measure.
He’s a crafty prick. Nearly every branch of his family tree is packed with slithering worms, so I shouldn’t be surprised. But he and I have history. Tricky bastard.
But I don’t have the luxury of hate.
“I strong-armed you to appear, Rykard, because Mathias is back and magickind’s situation is dire. Have you heard?”
