Page 47 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“Terribly.”

Her pretty mouth curved to a sneer and she pulled my hand away from her face. “Liar.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “There is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about?”

“Of course there is.”

“It’s about your siblings,” I explained, and she shot to attention. “Empaths can recognise blood-related individuals, sometimes by magical scent or colour, but that would make our searching field too wide. I want to narrow it down.”

“How?”

“With Visha’s help. She can trap a small part of their essence collected from someone related to them into a small craft stone and then one of my Aura will use that as a compass or a beacon to fade exactly where it will pick up any connection to it. It will not take you directly to them, but it will close a lot of distance and search space.”

She nodded. “I’ll tell Visha to come see you.”

I pulled a massive Book of Dreams written by an ancient Dark Crafter on top of all my documents. “You can read Borsich, right?”

She raised a brow between the dust-covered book and me. “Yes.”

“It’s an entry-based grimoire written by Eamon Gorgan Delcour, head of one of the lower covens before he married the second Grand Maiden and father of the third Grand Maiden—he was a keeper of the ship that sailed to Nephthys.” I tapped a hand on it. “The man had loads to say apparently. Detailed every toilet break he took and bowel movement amongst all the other goodness he saw during his duties as keeper.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Why have you not asked anyone to help you with this?” she asked, pulling the massive book on her lap, frowning down at it as she did so.

“There are only five priests working on this. Only five that I trust as much as I trust Atlas and they are plenty busy already researching. So how about you use that big brain of yours to help me, hm?”

I’d gotten her another chair and she’d sat beside me, making little notes on a blank sheet of paper. Her tongue peeking at the corner of her mouth, eyes pinched on the writing as she tried to decipher the madness of Eamon. She’d wrapped her long locks around her fist and propped her head on it. Prettiest sight I’d seen in a while.

Her eyes rolled up to me, curious at my attention glued on her. She said nothing and I was too overwhelmed by her soft presence to even come up with any words beside the three she hated to hear.

We sat there almost all night long. She’d eaten two more apples and a little past midnight I’d gone and brought little crackers and cheese from the kitchens which she had all eaten as well.

First time that I had not minded her quiet. I’d actually enjoyed it. Studying and watching her in this form. Every sense in my body roared and fought to push my chair closer to her, run my fingers over her face, rest my lips on all corners of her skin and tell her just how much it hurt that I could not speak those three words to her every second of the day.

There was barely an hour left to dawn and she’d not had a sliver of rest, her eyes drooping and adorned with grey shadows. “Why don’t you rest a little?”

She yawned. “I can’t sleep here.”

“I’ll light a ton of candles.”

She lifted her tired gaze to me. “No matter how bright it is, you always make it dark again. I hate the dark.”

My chest hurt—it hurt terribly. “I’ll go. I can go.”

She swallowed hard, and then pushed to me the paper she’d written on. “There is one mention of a guardian. Presuming it was Aurora. Apparently, she was locked in there with something else.”

“Protection?”

“No. Some form of torture. At least Eamon thought so. He has very flowery writing, so he described Aurora’s companionship as the highest form of torment.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “How could a guardian be afraid of anything?”

“They all have weaknesses, not exactly fears. The gods who created guardians perfect their creatures to the point of excellence, sometimes to boast about their skill and sometimes because they adore them as if they were their own children. And right before gods give life to them, they create one single flaw. And that is what distinguishes guardians from gods. A flaw.”

“Wouldn’t that help us in case father succeeds in rousing her?”

“Possibly.” I pulled a pad filled with my notes. “Five hundred years ago, the Elding kings led the resistance against her, and they managed to chain her long enough to break the sceptre apart. Perhaps there could be some more information in Olympia that dates to your ancestors and how they managed to take on a guardian of her power. It could be just that. Her one flaw.”

“The grand library was in Myrdur. A lot is lost, but I’ll ask Alastair and a few other of the elders in my court. Someone ought to remember perhaps the biggest tragedy in this realm.” She sighed. “How can anyone forget about this? About her.”

“Magic, fire, fear. A lot was burned, some were made to forget, and others just chose to forget out of fear. You forget that guardians like gods need the power of humans to thrive. If she lays forgotten, her power sleeps, too.”