Chapter 27
Iwake alone. A note on the bedside table informs me that Lachlan has gone out to join the rebuilding efforts. Needing to fulfill my own desire to help, I head towards the library, a small smile on my face thanks to the events of last night.
Gran’s death hangs like fog in the morning, but Lachlan became the sun last night and burned it all away. I cling to that light now as I push the door open and waltz inside before jerking to a stop.
Books as far as the eyes can see.
The library is full again. My eyes widen at the fully stocked shelves. Spines of every color, from vibrant reds and greens to pastel purples and blues, all lined up neatly. Large glittering spines tucked beside ancient leather tomes.
So much history, so much knowledge.
My heart thumps erratically in my chest and the grief that has clouded around me lightens like fog burning up as the sun rises.
I smile to myself as I walk through the stacks, trailing my hands across their spines.
“We’re running out of time,” Odr grumbles. His voice drifts to me from far away.
I pause, straining my ears to hear.
“They’re not ready yet. If we force them into action now, we’ll be destroyed,” Freya responds.
Force who into action? Us?
“But we know the Fomorians have them. The mists are evidence of that.” Odr’s voice becomes sharper. “You saw the prophecy on the table. It has to be her.”
“Enough,” Freya hisses. “If we launch into battle now, it will be for naught. She needs to become stronger. You’ve seen her. She’s barely hanging on right now.”
She? Are they talking about me?
I pad silently to the end of the row to get a better vantage point. But the train of my lilac gown finds the spine of a book and rips it from the stacks. I lunge, catching it before it slams to the ground.
Thank the gods.
“We don’t even know the full prophecy,” she continues speaking to Odr.
My brows raise. Am I successfully eavesdropping right now?
“I’m sure the sorceress will figure it out eventually, but we know enough.”
They fall silent. The sounds of books thudding onto the table and pages ruffling reach my ears.
So Odr, Freya, and Luna believe this prophecy is about me? Interesting. I’ll have to ask Luna more about this later.
I grab the end of my dress in my hand and trill a greeting, like I totally haven’t been here the whole time.
“Lena?” Freya calls out.
I heave a sigh, preparing myself. “Yep! Where are you?”
There’s a brief pause and I make my way to the end of the stack.
“Right here.”
I look left and then right before spying them by the fireplace seated on the velvet chairs. Freya’s long white hair is unbound, resting in gentle waves over her leather clad chest. A few braids are meticulously plaited throughout.
Odr’s near-black hair is brushed back off of his weary face, a permanent line etched between his brows.
Whatever they were just discussing has been wearing on him.
They’re nestled into the chairs, outwardly looking relaxed, but it’s vastly misleading.
For at any moment, they could spring into battle and walk away as the victors.
I trail my hand along the back of the couch, a smile brightening my face as I look between her and Odr.
“The books are amazing. Thank you,” I breathe, turning to look back at the full stacks.
“It was the least we could do.” Freya chuckles. “But Harald really outdid himself.”
She gestures to the low-lying table full of ancient-looking leather tomes. “We pulled a few we thought you should look at first.”
Odr stretches forward, his training leathers flex with the movement and the weapons strapped to his side shimmer in the light as he plucks a black leather book up and offers it to me.
“This has the most thorough knowledge of the Fomorians and their royal line. So you can get a feel for what we’re up against.”
“Their royal line?” I ask, flipping it open and glancing at the scrawling script on the ancient pages.
“Yes, most of the realms have a royal line. Except in Sutr they have clans, I believe.” She waves off that train of thought and continues. “But the Fomorian and the Tuadanaan royal line both stretch back to a single family that connects them.”
I plop down on the couch, snapping the book shut. “I’ve been told the story before.”
Setting the book flat on my lap, I graze the engraved words with my fingertips. Such craftsmanship has been applied to these books. It breaks my heart to think of the ones that were destroyed here.
Freya smirks, closing the book in her lap and resting her arms on the armrests of her chair. “It is well known. One side of the family wanted to expand—to conquer—while the other side was content with their land and way of life.”
I nod, remembering some of what Mathilda had told me long ago about how the Fomorians wanted to conquer the human lands, and more recently, Dragut’s stories.
“Their realm is about the size of this one,”—she gestures around her—“but they wanted the vastness of the human lands. That and the humans.” She grimaces.
“Mathilda had mentioned that before. But she had very limited knowledge.”
“It’s worse than that,”—Odr flashes Freya a look—“they eat the children, especially babies.”
My stomach roils and I flinch, not having heard that before. “What?”
“There’s all manner of beasts from those lands that the Fae rule over, and babies are a delicacy that are difficult to acquire.”
My throat burns and I force a swallow.
“Difficult? But not impossible?”
Freya shifts. Her knuckles turn white from her grip on the armrests.
“It’s not uncommon for human women to find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
My brain is having a hard time processing this information, and my face scrunches up in confusion—in disgust.
“They use them for breeding stock,” Odr says gently.
I lean back, attempting to escape the words. Bile rises in the back of my throat as my heart plummets into my stomach.
“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.
In fact, he seems somewhat distracted.
“Uh—yes. Oh! And then this is the latest information on their line, but some of it’s missing.”
I flip to the very last page of their family tree. A black smudge marks out the first name, for reasons I’m unsure of. But the rest of the legible names are listed from oldest to youngest.
A marked-out name, Conand, Baylon, Midir, Eira, Balthasar, and Taryn.
Lachlan leans back on the couch, his face remains carefully impassive. “The only reason ye would cross out a name is if they were usurped or left the family…”
“That’s what I was thinking, but some of those names look familiar.” I study the open book in my hand. My necklace warms on my chest. I think I’m on to something.
“Which names?” Lach asks. His head tilts to the side, his focus returning to the conversation at hand.
“All of them.”
The fire in the fireplace pops loudly and startles me.
“We need to talk about something else too,” Lachlan says. His tone seems serious, grave even.
“What’s up?” I ask, looking up to study his face.
Lachlan clears his throat before shifting uncomfortably. “Our conversation last night got me thinking that we should make this official somehow.” His words stumble over themselves and the tips of his ears redden.
I stare at him and when his eyes find mine again, he lets go of an exhale.
“I’d like to make us official.” He blurts out. I tilt my head to the side. “That is—if ye accept.”
A smile breaks out across my face. “You want to make us official, even without a mating bond?”
Lachlan leaves the couch and squats down on my side of the table. He tucks a stray hair behind my ear while staring into my eyes. “I want it official so that I willna ha’ to suffer through another day without the universe knowing you’re mine.”
I bite my bottom lip to smother my giggle. “Oh, so not that you want me. You just don’t want to be uncomfortable any more?”
He taps a finger to my nose before capturing my lips in a brief kiss. “That’s nae what I meant, and ye know it.” He places his hand under my chin, tilting my head up further. “I want the world to know ye are mine, and that I am yours.”
I lean forward, pressing my lips against his and savoring the way they feel against mine. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
He shakes his head. A wayward lock of dark hair crosses across his forehead and I smooth it away.
“I want a traditional binding ceremony that is customary here. A marriage is just a piece of paper in the human world. But a binding ceremony binds my soul to yours for all of eternity.”
His words have a chaotic mass of butterflies swarming my chest and stomach.
The otherworldly shade of green seems to glow as he studies my face and my lips.
He kisses me again and my heart gallops.
“Ye are my life, Lena. The very air in my lungs, my reason for each day. I dinna want to do this life without ye. If ye’ll ha’ me? ”
Tears burn my eyes as I gaze upon the man I’ve loved my entire life. The man I want a future with. “Of course, I will.”