Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Blair
Fika wasn’t frozen in time, but a season.
Strings of buzzing lights connected the village’s quaint buildings, lighting the cobblestone streets in a magical glow.
Cinnamon perfumed the air no matter the time of day, and pine wreaths decorated cottages and business’s doors.
Witches called the season Yule, and though they were weeks past that holiday, Fika remained this warm and festive all year round.
Though, this distance from their respective homes had drawn Blair and Lorkan here all those years ago. It wasn’t a village that belonged to a certain pack, but a base town for the buzzing mountain of Vísdómr.
If Blair raised her hand out ahead of her, she could place her index finger on the mountain’s peak; that was how close it sat on the horizon.
It was a half day’s ride with a well-rested horse and favorable weather, and she and Lorkan had plans to leave within the hour.
She’d enter the most prestigious library in all of Sorin by sunset, perhaps with an ancient text in hand by dinner.
Blair sank further into her reading chair, wishing the cushions would swallow her whole so she could dismiss the shame she held for her own stubbornness. She was a fool not to have brought her and Lorkan here in the first place, but at least the detour to Nūa had been worth it.
Jace’s ancient faerie text indeed discussed the bloodstone. Three entire chapters. Though her reading was slow going given she had to translate every word, she’d already learned something fascinating—this text was written before the great war amongst gods.
“Anything interesting?” Lorkan waltzed into the reading area she’d sought for some solitude.
She’d agreed to travel here, but not to endure the painful memories with the male who’d given them to her. But they were working together on figuring out how to break the curse, forcing her to have to speak to him.
Blasted books.
“Yes.” Blair turned the text around for him to see.
“This details what we already know—the gems are made from the blood of fallen gods—but faeries discovered that the phenomenon only happened if the god was slain by a fellow god. Faerie believed they left the memories behind in the stone, a warning of sorts to other gods. Though I haven’t made it far enough to translate how they came to that conclusion. ”
Lorkan positioned his glasses so he could inspect Blair’s translations. “It would align with its properties, hiding vampyrs from the Blood Goddess, like the fallen gods were protecting them. Any mention of her?”
“Actually, no.” Blair frowned, flipping the page to a previous chapter. “There’s no direction mention of her, but the faerie referred to the One, capitalized just like in the prophecy.”
“That can’t be a coincidence,” Lorkan said, brows pinched. He leaned closer, skimming the page.
“I agree—” Blair stilled, red catching her attention. “Blasted books, are you wearing a bloodstone?”
She snatched the leather cord threaded through the ring—careful not to touch the gem—and inspected it. Yet, she realized, until it was much too late, that she’d dragged Lorkan down to her level. His breath tickled her lips, and his eyes darkened to amber.
Time stopped. Sense vanished from her mind. If she brushed her lips against his, a hair’s distance away, would he taste of smoke like all those years ago?
Lorkan, achingly gently, pried her fingers from the necklace and, inch by inch, rose away from her. “My father found it after Riven’s attack and gave it to me to research.”
“You’re just now telling me?” Blair swiped her hand in the air. “Scratch that, were you going to tell me?”
“We’ve been a little busy.” Lorkan shoved his hands into pockets, attention falling outside the window. “You know, being chased across the continent.”
Blair ground her teeth together, but before she could comment, the shop owner, Aina, entered the reading area with books stacked to her chin. Lorkan rushed to assist, grasping half of them out of the elderly werewolf’s hands.
“Thank you, my dear.” She swiped sweat from her brow as she busied herself stacking books in their respective places.
An awkward silence bled into the shop, Saga she just believed her to be wrong.
She rose from her seat and gathered her things, eager to get out of the village and make it to Vísdómr and continue her research. “It was good to see you, Aina, and I’d like to thank you for the books you’ve sent over the years. You know my reading taste so well.”
Aina laughed, pulling her in for a hug. “Oh, I can’t take the credit. Lorkan’s the one who picked them out.”
Blair stilled, blood turning to ice. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
The shop owner nodded with a wry smile. “Aye, I figured you didn’t know. Those packages might be from Saga & Spines, but they weren’t from me, my dear. They were from him.”
She pointed out the window at Lorkan, who stood with a man Blair had never seen before. Lorkan pinched his brow, frustration leaking from him, even at this distance. Rook landed on his shoulder for the hundredth time, and Blair saw red.
Why?
The question rattled through Blair related to many, many things, and she wasn’t sure she could contain her anger towards Lorkan any longer.
Why had he never shown? her shadows whispered inside her blood.
Blair marched out of the bookshop, ignoring the question coursing through her like some angry storm. She needed to reach Vísdómr before she did something she regretted.