Since his grandfather Saemund was half human and half High Court Sidhe, he was thousands of years old, and he had Nórr with another High Court Sidhe before she passed. Raum’s father, Nórr, was several hundred years old himself, his human blood not impacting his long life-span. Freya, his mother, shared the same percentage of human blood as Nórr, and was even older than her husband. They were both several hundred years old, his mother nearly a thousand years old, his father over eight hundred. Freya’s ancestry was also a bit more complicated, and was a secret his mother guarded zealously, unwilling to share it with strangers outside the small Elder fae community in Edmonton. It wasn’t something Raum needed to share with anyone, not without his mother’s permission.
Raum physically appeared to have inherited more human DNA than Elder fae from his parents, and since he was only thirty years old, that was far too young to know if he had been gifted with the longevity enjoyed by his parents.
Not knowing what his future held was frustrating, and it had bothered him greatly as a kid. He went to therapy as a teen to help him come to terms with his potential future—he was afraid and angry in equal measure, fearing he would outlive his friends, or die centuries before either of his parents, leaving them alone.Raum was their only child, and as a kid, such thoughts haunted him incessantly.
The anxiety waned as he grew older, fading to a vague thought in passing when something came close to touching on the subject, like asking his family about something from centuries before his birth. He would deal with it, though—there was nothing he could do about it in any case.
There was an email from the Dean awaiting him, and he was glad to see that he’d been granted permission to contact his family, and only his family, and they had been sent NDAs to read and sign before he could contact them about the skull.
“Did you see the email?” Harlan asked as he appeared in the doorway of Raum’s office.
“I did,” Raum replied. “The NDAs are being sent electronically—I hope my grandfather has someone who can help him figure it out; he hardly even uses his phone.”
“We’ll get it sorted, even if MERS needs to send a courier to his place in person.”
“Good to know.”
Harlan disappeared, and Raum had an unimpeded view of Ezra sitting at the table, dark head bent over a book, diligently reading. Lilith sat on the floor beside the table, cleaning a paw before wiping at her whiskers. She was content to be near her person, and that cheered Raum in a soft way, a gentle ache in his chest over his heart.
Ezra looked up at that moment and caught Raum staring at him. A blush stole over his pale cheeks and Raum grinned at the fetching vision Ezra made. That grin made Ezra blush harder, and Raum found himself walking out of his office and straight to Ezra, drawn by sparkling dark eyes and a sweet smile on lush lips.
He took the seat opposite Ezra and pulled a stack of books closer, taking one at random. “I gathered more books thatmention historical artifacts and magical objects. Luckily for you, this is in my wheelhouse—I’m focusing my post-doc research on a magical object, so I have a ton of materials that I’ve gathered for my book.”
Ezra perked up. “Can I ask what object? It’s not a secret?”
Raum smiled again, shaking his head. “Not a secret. The Dainsleif sword.”
Ezra blinked at him in surprise. “The sword that compels the wielder to kill or die themselves each time it’s drawn from the scabbard. The sword that kills with every strike, regardless of the type of wound—that sword?”
“You know it?” Raum asked in surprise, pleased. “Not many people have heard of it, much less know about it. I’m impressed.”
“Legend has it that the weapon is lethal, no matter the type or severity of injury it causes. One tiny knick of the blade will kill a human.”
“That’s one of the versions, yes. I’m interested in its origins, who forged it, and what happened to it.”
Ezra tilted his head a bit to the side, his black hair falling over one eye that he then brushed back impatiently, staring at Raum hard. “Most people, if they've heard about it, think it’s entirely a myth, like Excalibur, one of the unbeatable swords seen in many different cultures and legends. You speak as if you know it’s real.”
Raum merely smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “The part of me that hungers for adventure hopes it is real.”
“Such a weapon as that…lethal no matter the wounding, it makes me think of a cursed object.” Ezra frowned a bit. “The Dainsleif is something of a white whale in curse-breaking circles. We all want to be the one to find it but dread it at the same time.” He paused, and then said hesitantly, “I suspect it’s the weapon, or perhaps one very similar to it, that struck down the stormskull fae. The Dainsleif would make such a wound and create a paradox if it struck an immortal.”
“Small world,” Raum murmured, thinking Fate was being kind and obvious at the same time. “A curse-breaker who knows the artifact’s legends, and a researcher who’s writing about the artifact.”
“It is a small world,” Ezra agreed quietly, staring intently at Raum. “Kinda like Fate meddling.”
“You think the Dainsleif struck your Elder fae down?” Raum asked, thinking hard about the implications. The Dainsleif was a likely suspect indeed.
“I do,” Ezra confirmed, expression set in determined lines. “About as certain as I can be without seeing the weapon in person and comparing its magical signature to the wound on the skull.”
“Too bad no one knows where it is.”
Ezra
Ezra sat backin his seat, eyeing Raum. “What drew you to the Dainsleif as the focus for your book?”
Raum gave him another of those heart-melting smiles. “Family legends and stories. According to my grandfather, on the human side of the family we’re descended from an ancient line of kings that once carried the Dainsleif, or a sword very like it. It was lost to time well over a thousand years ago.”
“Your father’s line? Would I know it?”
