Blessed Mother.
That could be it.
The answer.
Chapter 50
Wolfe
“The Sting of Truth”
The library smelled of old parchment and beeswax candles.
Dust floated in shafts of pale light from the high windows. The hearth was unlit. The air still. Quiet enough that I could hear the faint, unnatural hum beneath my skin.
I stood before the long oak table where Father once mapped battle lines and trade routes. Instead of strategies, I’d spread open tomes on Fae essence.
This was my father’s special library where he’d kept books onrare things.
I had not stepped inside here since he died.
I didn’t want to, and there’d been no need, until now.
I’d spent the morning looking through old books Father collected on essence restoration. He’d gotten them for my mother when she had the Sliver Shade Blight. He’d made restoration tonics that would keep the disease from consuming her.
My situation was different but the end result would be the same.
The brew Sirril made me was from one of my Father’s books. It had dulled the edges of my transformation. But that was all it could do.
Now I was looking for something that would buy me more time.
The problem was Deathwalker curses were rare. Those afflicted didn’t live long enough to document survival, and what they did to stave off the change.
I flipped another page and I thought of Elariya.
She was home today. I could have been spending the time with her, but I didn’t think I could see her yet. I’d told Bastian to tell Alaric and Garrick I’d be in here, but to let everyone else I’d be away for the day. I hated lying but pretending I was fine when I wasn’t was worse. That was lying on a different level.
Her family had deceived her at the start of the reset. I was no better. I was simply doing it by omission, and I refused to make it worse.
I was hoping to have some clarity by nightfall. I probably wouldn’t, but of all the things that could harm me, hope wasn’t one of them.
Footsteps echoed beyond the door, then it pushed open and Alaric came in.
From his expression, I guessed he’d just heard the news.
He closed the door behind him and rushed up to the table.
“I heard,” he said. “Just now.”
I straightened and sighed.
“Talk to me, tell me what the plan is.” He looked frantic. “What are we doing to fix it?Research?”
“There’s nothing we can do to fix it. My only hope is the ring. And that is not certain.”
His skin drained of color. “What do you mean? That sounds like you’re giving up.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic. I could change any day and I may not be able to change back. We can’t rely on finding the ring.”
