I’d spent almost as much time in our family library as I had rambling through the woodlands. My days were immersed between folds of paper, squinting at lines of ink, slowly deciphering the old language as I endeavored to find any clue of what I was or the locations of otherworldly creatures who might tell me what hid itself inside me. I tried not to be too excited or too obvious as I skirted the room looking for the history of our world captured in tomes with gilded edges.
There needed to be some research done. The Crowthers library was far older than my own. Their family line dated back to the Final War, but I had a feeling that their lineage went even further. I had to find out as much as I could about our god Zrenyth and the weapons he’d forged, which after he’d fallen into the Great Slumber had been gifted to the Crowthers, like the magic-crafted ropes, chains, and the harpoons that had trapped my wyrm. And there might be a way around the wholeonly a Crowther can take the cord off my neckbullshit.
There could even be blueprints of the Keep in here as well, with all the concealed passageways. There was no likelihood the Crowthers wouldn’t have an escape route dug underground like our forefathers. And this Keep was so ancient, there may be several.
As I walked between the long wooden tables that were set up with elegant reading lamps, I neared an enormous fireplace with a wyrm carved into the stone. Its scaled serpentine body curved possessively around the hearth, and I thought further about what I needed to unearth in the library. I had so many questions. Including the Alverac. Even if I got physically free from Graysen, would it mean that all he had to do waswillme back? And would I return? Maybe here there’d be an answer to that without actually having to askhim. In a morbid way, I didn’t want to know. I was determined to escape the Crowthers beforemy birthday, but if I discovered there was no hope… I wasn’t sure I could keep myself from falling into deep despair.
Graysen stalked toward me, a slice of darkness through hues of lavender, heather, and lilac, that were a kaleidoscope shifting across his body.
Here, at least, the scent of him was subdued. Up in the tower, the smell of cedar suffused me, muddling my thoughts and beckoning me to draw nearer and forget that he’d betrayed me. Another reason why I spent so much time outside on the balcony inhaling fresh non-Graysen air.
A desk sat beside a cozy seating of tall-backed armchairs and comfortable couches adorned with quilts and generous cushions. One cushion had an indentation and loose fur from Flossy the cat. “Our library system,” Graysen explained, gesturing toward it when he saw my line of sight. As soon as my eyes lit upon the oak wooden desk with its computer station, a thrill of hope rushed through me. My first thought was that I might get a message to my family.
He shook his head, easily reading the yearning etched across my face. “Everything is password-protected. All the computers. All the phones. You won’t be able to contact anyone outside this place.”
I sighed. My shoulders fell as I fiddled with the loose pleats in my skirt. “Okay.”
Bastard.
He turned slowly in a tight circle, admiring the library and the spiral staircase that led to a small mezzanine level. “This is the Heart of the Keep. It’s the original stronghold, along with the tower—”
“Your tower?” I interrupted. Our voices were loud in the expansive room, so it was natural to move closer and lower our tones.
He nodded, swiveling around to face me once more.
I was itching to ask about that tower. Why did he live there and not with his siblings? How did the tower come to be infused with magic that could lock out anyone he wished? However, I tucked away my questions for now. Right this moment, I focused on this marvelous library and his family. “Just how old is your family line? I know you hail all the way to the Final War, but how much further back?”
Graysen’s dark eyes sliced to mine, his brows raised as if taken aback by my change in questioning. Perhaps he thought I was going to continue to ask about the Keep. Soon enough, I would.
Squinting, I noted that his body wasn’t rigid, his expression not as flat. He’d been on edge, practically bristling as he led me through the short passageways to the library. But right now, he seemed to have softened and lost the coldness and aloofness he cloaked himself within. Maybe simply being here, sheltered inside the privacy of this space, he felt safe enough to relax once more.
“All the way back to the birth of the Horned Gods. Back even further too.”
I blinked, my head slowly tilting, my worldview of him too. The vast age of his family line was staggering.
“How did you lose your placement of Great House?”
This time his surprise did show, and a pinch of admiration. But what stopped my breathing was the sudden flashfire of lust that set the golden flecks in his eyes aflame. He couldn’t suppress it; he liked the fact that I was smart and loved researching history. He’d admitted it turned him the-fuck-on. “You know that about us?” he asked, prowling closer. “All knowledge was struck from the records.”
I nodded, holding my ground, and taking a breath through my nose, which was the worst thing I could have done. His intoxicating scent suddenly saturated the air. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying not to jitter, trying to defusethe fizzing in my blood like effervescent champagne. “How did you survive when so many families who held the position were annihilated?”
“Now, that is the question.” He swallowed up the remaining distance between us with one long stride. “We stepped down.”
My mouth fell open. “Your family willingly abdicated?”
It was unheard of. Utterly unheard of for a family to relinquish its hold on the position.
And the Crowthers had survived.
Families who held the mantle of Great House either met their end at the Horned Gods’ will or were usurped by other Houses and later fell in bloodshed.
But not the Crowthers.
Graysen cocked his head, staring down at me. “I have questions for you too, Wychthorn. Perhaps we’ll make a trade.”
Of course, he’d twist what I wished to learn to his own advantage. I kneaded my fingers into the skirt’s lacy fabric. “What do you want to know?” What information could he possibly need from me? Then it dawned on me as he scrutinized my face to watch the nuances at play, as if I would silently reveal my truth.
Silas Boon.
