“How-how do you know this?” My bottom lip quivers and I clamp it still with my teeth.
“We’ve rescued many on raids before the mists came. But now it’s too treacherous to pop in without sight. We haven’t been back in quite some time.”
My hands ball into fists on top of the book.
Freya and Odr stand together, the creaking of leathers and rustle of wings appearing, reach my ears.
“Do some research. We’ll be around if you have questions.” Her words are gentle as she places a comforting hand on my shoulder.
But I don’t—can’t respond.
Hours later,Lachlan finds me sprawled in front of the fireplace with piles of books spread around me. The smell of roast lamb and carrots reaches my nose before his footsteps reach my ears.
“I thought I might find ye here,” his voice resonates across the empty room.
I lift my head up from the book I’m engrossed in and smile at the large plate balanced in his hand.
“Tell me that’s for me.”
His laughter warms my chest, chasing away the lingering chill from the words on the page before me.
“Aye, of course it is. I picked it up on my way back from the rebuild. I got to help with a tavern today.”
My back aches and my knees pop as I pull myself up and shuffle over to the table that he places the food on. “That’s good. Did you have fun?”
The book I was reading lays open, still on the floor. Lachlan peeks over at it before grimacing.
“Aye. Shapeshifter skirmishes of the first century?”
With a mouthful of carrots, I mumble, “Yeah, I’m trying to learn as much as I can about our enemies.”
“Anything interesting?” His brow raises.
Shaking my head, I say, “I wouldn’t say interesting, more like disturbing.” I don’t have to fake a shiver for effect. It rolls through me, causing my knees to tremble.
“I see…”
“Did you know they fought against Odin once before?”
Lachlan shakes his head and the dark brown tresses brush the tops of his shoulders. It’s grown longer in the time we’ve been here.
“Yeah,”—I swallow a mouthful of lamb—“apparently, they tried to launch a war on Tuadanaan for resources, even impersonated a prince before they were discovered.”
“Like what they did here?”
“Pretty much.” I nod. “Freya and Odr told me the other realms want the human realm for resources, too. Mainly for food and breeding.” The words almost get stuck in the back of my throat thinking about all the women and children that could be impacted by this war. All the women and children that have already been impacted.
Lachlan’s face pales. “We’re going to stop them.”
I heave a sigh, pushing my near-empty plate away. “We don’t have a choice.”
“What else did ye learn?” He asks, nudging the Fomorian Royal Line book with his toe.
I yank the book off the floor and out of the reach of his dusty boot. Lachlan snickers, but I stick my tongue out at him before wiping the cover off.
“Well apparently the Fomorians and the Tuadanaans were once a single family,”—I flip the book open to the front page—“see here.” He leans in close to see what I’m pointing at and his cedar and rain scent floods my senses. His brow wrinkles as he studies the tiny print, and I get lost in admiring the lines of his face.
“Interesting,” he says, leaning back, not at all interested.
