“I shall.” I took a sip of tea. “You out with another of the prospects tonight?”
“I am indeed.”
“And when are you intending to let me in on this secret plan you have?”
“Once I’ve dated all three several times and have formed an opinion on them all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop being so secretive—just tell me where I come into it.”
His smile flashed, bright and amused. “I want you to have dinner with each of them. And me, of course.”
“To what end?”
“To help me choose the most suitable prospect.”
I just about choked on my tea. “You wantmeto helpyouchoose yourwife? Mathi, that’s insane.”
“No, it is in fact brilliant, even if I say so myself.”
“I don’t think?—”
“Then perhaps you should.” His eyes gleamed with warmth, but deep in those blue depths, seriousness lurked. “You are my best friend, Bethany, and we highborn Ljósálfar elves are very rarely gifted such a thing. It is important to me that the woman I choose gets along with you, because I do not intend to ever lose our friendship. If that means stepping away from a contract that is very beneficial to my family, then so be it.”
I reached out and briefly caught his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you.”
Surprise flitted briefly through his expression. “For what?”
“For saying all that. For being in my life. For trusting me to help with such an important decision.”
“Then youwillhelp?”
“Of course.” I couldn’t help my sudden grin. “But you are aware that I am by nature somewhat chaotic and will likely choose the least suitable candidate.”
He laughed. “Yes, I am well aware of that factor, which is why all three are being screened beforehand. I want to ensure suitability and compatibility no matter who you choose.”
“Then let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Welcome—though I dare say you had better not mention this deal to your father. He’s unlikely to be pleased.”
“That would be a very definite understatement.”
We cruised back over the river and wound our way back to St Werburgh Street, where Henrick parked as close as he could to the rear lane. I jumped out and, as they drove away drive away, ran down the lane, tossing the now empty takeaway cup in the nearby dumpster before punching in the door code and dripping into the back corridor. Once I’d stripped off my coat and boots, I padded down the corridor, listening to the building’s song and finding nothing untoward.
After checking that everything was fine in the kitchen, I quickly headed upstairs to the bathroom to check my face. I’d been expecting a minor scrape, but the wound basically stretched from the side of my cheek to my chin, and while it wasn’t particularly deep, it did look rather ugly. Thank goddess for Henrick’s numbing gel, because I rather suspected it’d be a painful mess without it. I searched the first-aid kit for a similar tube, then carefully cleaned away all the bits of grit and stone that were lodged in my skin before carefully reapplying more numbing salve. The end result was a wound that at least looked less red and sore.
With that done, I made myself a cup of tea then headed back down to the office. After shoving my feet into the spare pair of runners I kept under the desk, I booted up the computer to do the few bits and pieces Ingrid couldn’t.
It was close to five by the time I stopped—and only did so then because my stomach was giving me a loud reminder that I hadn’t eaten lunch. I arched my back to work out the kinks, then rose and went upstairs. After investigating the fridge and the pantry for anything resembling a decent meal, I madeup a couple of ham and cheese toasties, shoved them in the maker, then made myself another pot of tea as I waited for them to cook. I caught up on the news—most of which involved yesterday’s heist—as I ate, then after doing the dishes, I grabbed the chocolate Mathi had given me yesterday and headed up the loft ladder. When Gran had moved out, Mom had converted this area into a chill-out zone where she and I could read our books in peace. Even though she was now dead, and this place was mine to do with as I wished, I didn’t ever intend to change it. Her soul might not haunt the building or this space, but echoes of her presence nevertheless lingered. It helped ease the ache of missing her and somehow made me feel closer to her, as impossible as that sounded.
Tears stung my eyes, but I determinedly blinked them away. After placing my tea and the chocolate on the small table beside the cushion-adorned sofa, I walked toward the wood heater at the back of the room to retrieve the Codex, which was safely hidden in a special storage pocket in the back of the mesh surrounding the flue. It was one of the first things Gran had done when she’d lived up here, though she’d simply created the space by slicing the mesh open and bending it inward to form the small shelf she’d used to hide her smaller valuables. While it had been large enough to hold the Codex and the Eye, my knives were far too big to fit. Cynwrig had solved that problem by not only replacing the entire length of decorative mesh but had widened the gap between the mesh and the flue and made an inner “pocket” between them that was big enough to hold everything. He’d also added a door that, unless you knew it existed, wasn’t visible. I hooked a finger into the hole that served as a handle, opened the door, then reached down for the Codex. When I’d first found it, it had been nothing more than a worn and very plain-looking leather notebook, but the blood-bonding ceremony had changed its appearance, turning the old leather aglassy black. The light that rolled across its surface at my touch echoed that in the Eye but generally held none of its dangerous electricity, though that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. The cost of using it was strength—linger too long in the library’s godly realm, and you could be drained unto death.
I made myself comfortable on the sofa, then called the knives to me. Once they’d thudded into my hands, I placed them on top of the Codex, then undid the Eye and put it on top of the knives. I closed my eyes, pressed all three items together, and said, “What can you tell me about Aamon’s Pectoral?”
For the briefest of seconds, nothing happened. Then light erupted from the triune, forming a whirlpool that was so dizzyingly bright I could see it through closed eyelids; it swept me up and then swept me away, though it wasn’t a physical departure but rather a mental—spiritual?—one. I could still feel the old leather sofa under my butt, could still hear the building’s gentle song, and the rattle of noise from staff and customers echoing up from the floors below, but it all paled in comparison to the howling wind being generated by my descent through the colorful maelstrom now surrounding me.
I finally came to a halt in a bright, open space filled with a multitude of different shapes. Long and tall, thin, or thick, some round, but most square or rectangular. They weren’t shelves. They were books that hovered in orderly rows in the nothingness of this place and glowed with an unearthly energy.
