Page 97 of Blood of the Fairest

Thank god. A new lead.

"Thanks, but I learned a long time ago that I'm a pretty good judge of character, so I'll trust whoever I want. Now I just have to find a way to free… what's-his-face." I wrinkle my nose. "Macbeth, Michelangelo, M…"

"Malivant," he supplies.

"Right. Malivant."

No sooner do I repeat the name than the faerie's voice echoes inside my head again, exactly the way it did when I was pissed off at those jerks harassing Anika and Ingrid.

"So you do recall my true name. I was beginning to question your mental capacities. If you desire my aid, otherworlder, first seek the means to free me. Repeat these words: By fair-blest blood, for shame-bound Wrath, let this curse yield its truth at last."

"Verena?" Eris asks when he sees my expression. "What is it?"

As much as I don't like hearing that faerie in my head again, I want to get this over with.

Clearing my throat, I lift my chin. "By fair-blest blood, for shame-bound Wrath, let this curse yield its truth at last."

Instantly, the tingling sensation of magic sweeps through me again.

I gasp when an invisible force tugs me toward the mirror, making me nearly collide with Eris's reflection. I stop myself just in time.

"Damn that faerie," Eris scowls, putting the pieces together quickly. "That spell must be leading you to one of Reinhilde's secret rooms. She may have recorded her past incantations in those journals."

I reach around to click open the secret entrance. Sure enough, the magic guides me quickly down the stairs, pressing me forward like a soft underwater current.

Wulf is striding back down the cool, sconce-lit stone hallway from checking things out, but he pauses when he sees me moving toward him.

"Where are you going, vantaði?"

What the hell did he just call me? Van-tah-thi?

I don't have time to ask as I reach for the handle of the red door, expecting the spell to lead me in there.

But it keeps pressing to get me to walk past the Huntsman, and I groan as I finally reach the green door.

Damn it. I was really hoping to avoid this room.

Cracking the door open, I fight a shiver and allow the spell to pull me into the small room, to one of the many shelves. I make a point of not looking at the velvet-draped soul-baring mirror on the wall as my hand is pulled to one of the thick leather-bound journals.

The second I pull the book off the shelf, the cover wrenches open.

It startles me enough that I yelp and drop it. The old journal falls on its spine, ink-covered pages flipping open and trilling until it stops abruptly.

I wait for a long second to see if the spell does something else, but it's deathly quiet.

"What is this?" Wulf asks.

My heart jolts at the sound of his low voice directly behind me in this dark room. He's close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of his big, strong body—and holy shit, why am I so tempted to lean back into him?

Is it just because I'm relieved that I'm not all alone in this unlit, uncanny journal room, or…am I starting to like him?

Oh, god. I think it's the second thing.

It's official. I need to watch myself around these gorgeous fairytale men.

"This is supposedly how I'm going to free your former partner in crime," I reply, scooping the journal up from the floor.

Keeping it open to the page the spell revealed, I retrace my steps down the secret passage toward the stairs. Wulf shuts the door behind us and keeps up with me easily, thanks to his long lumberjack legs.