Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Tristen
I’d do anything for my older brother because he has done everything for me.
I feel like a parent doing something my child won’t like, but I must. Like all loving parents, I’ll do anything to save my child.
Our time in this castle has turned Titus from a block of granite into shale—flaking layers that Selene’s chipping away to find his fossilized heart so she can shatter it.
Is my brother’s happiness something I desire? Yes. Gods, yes!
Selene’s hands don’t love you; they kill you.
Brother, a knife cannot become a needle that mends you. This bond with Selene will stab everything we love to death.
Yes, mating bonds take precedence over marriage contracts, but this is… disastrous.
I watched Titus stumble, even fall, when Everett forced his magic into him. I can’t let him fall again because this stumble will end with a knife in his back.
I know Galen. He’s ruthless, and he’d give zero fucks about the mating bond law.
Sweat drips down the nape of my neck. I push the cloak off my head, needing more air to cool me down.
I walk the winding streets, exquisitely paved with stones.
Each step is harmonized, unlike running through dirt and debris on the battlefield.
It’s unusual to be surrounded by walls and not trees or camping tents.
Crossing the pathway to avoid the loud tavern, I glare at the drunken patrons laughing outside. “Why couldn’t it be you?” I mumble as I spot a female vampire.
You would have been easy to bond with.
Shaking my head, I pick up my pace. “Mated to a fae,” I hiss under my breath.
I’ve never fucked a fae, never had pillow talk with one.
It’s not that I hate them; I love women of all shapes, forms, colors, sizes, and species.
The more hips, the better! I just haven’t had the time to wander into a fae tavern, and most fae women on the battlefield only want to fuck their swords up my ass.
No, thank you.
I’m reluctant to risk a hair on Titus’s body. What I’m about to do is going to piss him off.
That’s okay. I’ll sacrifice his friendship to save his life.
“There you are,” I whisper when I spot the library.
It’s a tall building, with four floors framed in black stone columns that are lined in vines and roses. Its darkness slows my steps; the sheer magnitude of the place makes me feel stupid, unworthy to step inside.
“You’ve overcome that weakness,” I growl.
Have you?
Yes, that’s why Titus gave me this mission. He knows books don’t scare me!
My head tips back as I study the ominous building. The light of the moon bounces off the angled roof, making it feel like the tip of a sword swinging down upon me.
I touch my dagger for comfort. The sad truth is, I am stupid.
I can read, but I take longer. The words used to appear backwards when I was a child.
Titus made me work so hard, and I improved, but then our parents died, and we were tossed to the state.
Titus resumed my lessons three years later.
We were older, and I was so insecure and embarrassed that I often lashed out at him.
But he dragged me to a hiding spot and helped teach me to see the words properly.
Ember found out and helped, too; she stole romance books from the small towns we passed through.
She forced me to read it out loud as she lay back and daydreamed of a star-crossed lover who would take her far away from the battlefield.
All those lessons and years of struggle, and I still feel unworthy of holding a book in my hand.
My stomach churns with nerves, and I grab my small bag of dried berries and swallow a mouthful without chewing. I have a nervous habit of snacking in private.
It developed when I was on a scouting mission, deep in enemy territory. I was hiding in a blueberry bush, and when the mission ended, Nero had to roll me out of the secret spot I made because my belly was so full of berries. I always keep a bag of nuts, dried jerky, or berries with me.
Some nights I dreamed of dying in battle, but right before I took my last breath, I fished out my snack bag and gobbled down one last meal.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I shove my snacks back in my pocket and approach the library, ready to commit a crime Titus and Selene didn’t order me to. Instead of looking for Caldara, I seek something more pressing. Yes, it’s more urgent than this business regarding runes.
The scent of old paper and ink has me craving a vial of blood to wash it away with. I walk up to the desk and drum my fingers on the wood until someone appears. Please be someone hot. I’m a flirt with my eyes. Ladies can’t resist me.
No such luck. An old man rounds the aisle with a dozen books in hand. He spots me through grey eyelashes but makes no haste in coming. Taking his time, he puts the books onto his cart categorically.
“How can I help you?” he grumbles.
“I’m looking for a book.” I press my elbows onto the desk as I keep my voice down.
“Congratulations, you’re in the right place,” the old vampire mocks. He must be well into his ninth hundred year of life. I grimace. Is that what I’ll look like? A hunched back and skin like cracked leather?
Death in battle seems… sexier.
Vain.
I’m vain. I admit it.
I like it. I’m not apologizing for liking my youth. I love women, and seeing this old man makes me want to bed more of them, because one day, it’s going to end. No one wants to fuck a raisin.
And those that do… I’m not letting them near my cock.
Or, you can be an adult and fall in love, find a woman who loves you, regardless.
Nah. The path Everett put us on is likely to end in a premature death, so I might as well live life to the fullest.
Leaning forward, I ignore his rude reply and flash my best smirk. “It should be in the mage section regarding spells to break bonds.” Wow, the closer I look, I can see his wrinkles have wrinkles. Surely a mage cream can repair that.
“What kind of bond?” His brows resemble furry caterpillars.
Nosey, are we? “You know,” I wave my hands in the air, regretting the action because it wafts the old book smell. “This and that.”
“What if I give you a book on that and this?” he playfully spits. “Be specific. We have thousands of books here, boy.”
Asshole.
Leaning closer, I whisper, “Mating bonds.”
Even if the word gets back to the king, he’ll have no idea this book refers to Selene and Titus. I’ll just lie and tell him I found my mate during the war, but our views are different, thus my need to sever the bond.
He jerks back, his cloudy eyes swinging up and down like I’m old meat flies are swarming at the butcher’s market. “You have a mate bond you wish to break?” He’s short but manages to look down his hooked nose at me.
I shrug. “I have commitment issues,” I lie.
“Fix them.”
“Don’t want to.” Dude, what is your problem?
“Breaking a mating bond is a crime.” He crosses his arms and tips his nose higher to reveal his grey nose hair.
I flinch. Gross. So bloody nasty! You don’t need a mage to fix that; just grab wax from a candle. That’s what humans do.
I push off the counter and stand tall. “Not if it’s voluntary.”
“It’s also a myth,” he grunts as he trudges back to his cart.
“Myths have seeds of truth,” I argue as I rush after him. Listen, asshole, just point me in the right direction.
“A mating bond is magic. Magic is the only true immortal. You can’t kill it; it may take a new form, but its roots are vast, and they never fully sever. Bonds are never broken.” He grabs a stack of books.
“Let’s put it to sleep then. Cage it. Taint it. Take your pick. I need the bond dulled,” I argue.
He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s a waste of time. Putting things to slumber has consequences. It’s better to dream than have nightmares, boy.”
I clench my jaw. “Which section will the book be in?” I’ll find it myself.
Shaking his head, he pushes the books toward me.
“Hey!” My hands dart out, grasping the stack.
“Follow me.” He sounds more annoyed than a horse that has to deal with gnats swarming its face. I’m just about ready to toss the books down when he glares at me from over his bony shoulder. “Carry those. Help isn’t free here.”
Our descent through the first aisle is slow and irksome. If Galen has this many books, I wonder what Ishmor is like. The shadows from the aisles cover us. It’s relaxing, like the hands of a woman rubbing your shoulders as you sink into a hot salt bath.
I can do this; linger in libraries. There’s got to be a hot librarian hiding here somewhere.
The light from the chandeliers barely illuminates the path now, but each aisle has gold switches that turn on wall sconces attached to each shelf.
“There are so many light bulbs. It’s impressive,” I mutter. The barracks now have human-made glass bulbs, and some village houses have adopted human engineering.
Humans love to build cities of light powered by their version of engineered magic called electricity.
They make it with light from the sun and windmills, and store it on large panels.
Some vampires think human engineering will change our world entirely since we don’t have to rely on candles or magic lights now.
“Give a human a stick and they will make fire with which they will clear a forest; they will use the fallen timber to build a village. They are impressive creatures.”
“We could use it to make fire, too,” I remind him.
“But we don’t, boy. Vampires use others. It’s the way it’s always been. Perhaps it will change. It once did.” He grumbles the last part under his breath.
We soon reach a set of winding stairs that leads to a lower level.
“You’re quiet,” he huffs.
“Miss my voice?” I reply as we descend. Oh, look, another room filled with books.
“It was an observation, not a question. I’m simply wondering whether your lack of voice is due to you not knowing any more words or if it is a blessing from the gods not to be burdened with your incessant comments.”
“Why are you so rude?”