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Have I been suspicious of her and her heritage for naught?
“It was easy because I had plenty of energy with you here. Now you can carve a hiding place for the book.” She looks adorably proud.
Quickly, I whittle the hunk of wood, kneeling at the head of the bed periodically to measure the fit of a niche beneath, until the case fits in a corner, against the leg. As I do, Olivia attempts to conjure a lock to secure it. After many tries and much frustration, she finally succeeds with an excited squeal.
Together, we place the book inside its wooden vessel. I secure it beneath the mattress to the post nearest my head and attach it to the wood. When I finish, she encloses the lock with a spell I hope will hold.
We are done. If she genuinely wishes to aid my cause, that should adequately hide the book. If not… I stifle the thought.
She worked with me, helped me. Mayhap I should put the past behind me and judge Olivia based on her actions, not her family.
Satisfied for now, I change into the T-shirt, joggers, and trainers Sabelle left for me after breakfast. I am as ready as I will ever be to teach these wizards to fight like warriors.
Chapter Forty-Three
Olivia
Within a few hours, I finish reading the book of simple spells. I practice conjuring small objects and manage to slide a picture frame across the dresser, turn on a faucet, and close a door—all with my mind. I’m miserable at teleporting, since I haven’t moved even an inch. I try not to be impatient. Magic isn’t something I can rush.
But knowing I’m a witch is an odd relief. All my life, everyone—especially my mother—treated me as if I were different. Now that I know how and why, it’s pretty cool.
Except Marrok loathes magic.
And I still have so many questions about these people and my heritage… About my father in particular. I’m still shocked that Richard Gray was once Mathias’s right-hand man.
Restless, I wander downstairs. My mate distrusts my father, and I don’t blame him. I hate the thought that I might have uprooted my life only to find out my dad is a villain. But people can change, right? Richard must have or he wouldn’t have chosen the right path. Besides, everyone deserves a second chance.
Still, I see Marrok’s point. I should think things through before putting my faith in my father.
In the grand entry hall, I scan the gorgeous, expansive place. Surely a manor like this has a library.
“Down the hall. Second door on your right,” Sabelle provides helpfully behind me.
With a start, I turn to face her. “How did you know—? Oh…you read my thoughts.”
“Shielding them takes practice. I keep a song in my head—a very mundane one—especially if I’m in public. People tune you out if you’re mentally singing the alphabet. Or ‘Baby Shark.’ Off-key works even faster.”
I laugh at her mischievous streak. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Want help with the library? Dinner can wait a bit, and the family collection of books is imposing.”
“Sure.”
Together, we make our way to the open door. Once I peek inside, my jaw drops. “Holy cow! You weren’t kidding.”
“My brother pretends he’s a cavalier playboy, but he’s actually read nearly every book here and brings new ones home all the time.”
Wow, I never pegged Bram as a hardcore reader. “How many books do you have?”
“I stopped counting after eight thousand.”
My guess is the shelves are stuffed with double that amount. How will I ever find what I want? The uneasy feeling of a mental ticking clock I don’t understand tells me that I need to start now.
“Don’t panic. What are you looking for?”
Damn, Sabelle is reading my thoughts again. I start humming one of my favorite songs in my head. Will that really mask my curiosities about my father’s past, Marrok’s curse, and the diary itself?
“Not yet,” Sabelle supplies. “But those thoughts were harder to hear. Keep practicing. Which subject do you wish to learn about first? I can help you with the diary. Bram has already set aside some books he intends to reread soon.”
