“Have I ever told you that you have an extremely scary girlfriend?” Trystan asks Rafe.
“Multiple times.” Rafe grins. He walks over to Diana and she holds up the side of her hand accusatorily. He takes her hand and kisses down its side.
“I really would try and avoid pissing her off,” Trystan suggests.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rafe says, smiling at a very perturbed Diana as he pulls her into a warm hug.
Trystan pulls out the University’s grimoire, and for the next hour or so, he goes through almost every spell in the book. He tries every type of heating spell, division spell, lighting spell, transformation spell and hurling spell he can find on the arrowhead, every incantation intensified by the wand. By the end of the hour, we’re still left with an untouched arrowhead, sitting at the bottom of a large, scorched and partially flaming crater.
“You sure picked a challenge here, Yvan,” Rafe remarks as we stare down at the arrowhead.
Jarod lifts his head and sniffs the air, surprise crossing his features. “Aislinn’s coming.”
I look around searchingly. Aislinn is back early from her trip to Valgard, the festivities surrounding Marcus Vogel’s elevation to High Mage the perfect excuse for a visit to her family—and her father’s Mage Council office. I’ve told her about this meeting, what we’re trying to do and how to find us, just in case she was back in time.
I hear her light footsteps on the leaves, the rustle of her skirts, before she tentatively emerges from the trees. Stress is taking its toll on Aislinn, her face strained.
Jarod looks as if it’s taking all the strength he possesses not to go to her, sweep her up in his arms and run off with her.
“I have something for all of you,” she says. She pulls the sack off her shoulder, fishes inside it and draws forth a black leather-bound volume.
My breath catches in my throat, my hand coming up to cover my astonished mouth. “Holy First Children...you actually got it.”
Aislinn glances at me soberly, then hands the book to Trystan, who eyes it with astonishment.
“Sweet Ancient One,” he breathes as he takes it. “You did it.”
“What is it?” Andras asks.
Trystan turns to Andras. “It’s a Black Grimoire. Only members of the Mage Council and high-ranking military officers are allowed access to this. These are highly protected spells. Not just Gardnerian spells, either. Fae spells, too.”
Trystan flips through the book with care as he speaks. “During the Realm War, the Gardnerians got hold of Fae Grimoires. There are some spells that the Gardnerians can use with wand magic, like the spells that break down a Fae glamour. Those spells are in here.” Trystan holds up the book to Aislinn. “How did you get this?”
“My father,” Aislinn says softly. “He keeps a copy hidden away in his Council office. So I...borrowed it. He doesn’t know.”
Rafe spits out an incredulous laugh. “I’d imagine not.”
“This is dangerous,” Trystan says to her. “Really dangerous.”
“I know,” she replies, the words tentative, but there’s cold defiance in her eyes. “I’ll slip it back after you copy the spells.” She looks around at all of us. “There’s something you should know. I overheard some of the Council members talking about a weapon the Gardnerians have now, something they’re planning to use on the Lupines. It...it upset me. I got scared for...the Lupines.” She steals a quick, troubled glance at Jarod.
Diana makes a contemptuous sound. “They’ve been threatening us for years. Always trying something new. Nothing ever comes of it.”
“No,” Aislinn cuts in sharply. “Something’s different this time. Especially with Vogel in power. They seem sure of it. Smug, almost. They want to kill all of the Lupines. They want your land. And they want to send a message.”
“Their magic doesn’t work on us,” Diana reminds Aislinn, a tad condescendingly. “And we’ll tear your dragons limb from limb.”
Aislinn looks back at her gravely. “All the same.” She gestures toward the grimoire. “Perhaps this can help with more than just freeing the dragon.”
Everyone is silent for a long moment. We’re officially playing with our lives now, stealing a Mage Council Grimoire and plotting to free a Gardnerian military dragon. And an unbroken military dragon, at that.
“I should go,” Aislinn says, frowning. “I don’t want to chance anyone seeing me with all of you. If anyone notices the grimoire is missing... I don’t want anyone to think I may have passed it to any of you.”
“What you did was very brave,” Rafe tells her.
She nods at him and turns to leave.
“Aislinn, wait.” Jarod steps toward her.
She holds up a hand to stop him, her face pained. “No, Jarod. Please... I have to go.”
“We need to talk,” Jarod insists, anguish breaking through.
Aislinn’s hands grasp at her skirts as she shakes her head from side to side and begins to cry.
Jarod goes to her and takes her in his arms, pulling her close, kissing her head. She clings to him and weeps into his broad chest.
Diana stares at the two of them in shock, apparently having completely missed what’s going on in her brother’s life. Jarod whispers something to Aislinn, and she nods.
“I need to talk to Aislinn privately,” Jarod says, noting his sister’s hurt look. “I’ll speak with you later, Diana.”
His words don’t seem to register with Diana as she stares after her twin brother, almost as if she doesn’t know him anymore.
Jarod leads Aislinn away, the two of them quickly swallowed up by the woods.
“Diana,” Rafe says gently.
Diana whirls around to face my brother. “Did you know?”
“I figured it out. It’s been pretty obvious.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, for starters, it’s really none of my business,” Rafe says as he wraps his arms around her. “And besides, you’re the one with all the superior senses, not me.”
“I think her attention has been focused elsewhere,” Trystan observes wryly.
Diana still looks a bit hurt, but Rafe’s embrace seems to mollify her, and she leans into him as if absorbing some of his equanimity.
“The girl, Aislinn,” Andras inquires, turning to me, his voice deep and resonant. “Her father...he is on the Mage Council?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“It will end badly,” Andras predicts, shaking his head. “You cannot break the bonds of your culture. It’s like that arrowhead.”
I glance down at the Elfin metal that still lies whole and untouched on the scorched ground.
When I look back up, Yvan’s fiery eyes lock onto mine, alight with a defiance that kindles my own.
*
That night, I dream.
I’m in Yvan’s barn, bathed in the faint light of a lantern’s glow. Instead of just a few pages from The Book scattered thinly about, thousands of them carpet the barn’s floor.
A figure emerges from the shadows. Yvan. His outline shimmers, fluid and indistinct, then rapidly coalesces into a solid presence.
He strides toward me, green eyes blazing. The pages swirl around his feet, the thin paper light as feathers. Without hesitation, Yvan pulls me toward himself and joins his lips to mine in fierce urgency.
I gasp, stunned by the intensity of his unexpected kiss. I feel the warmth coming off his skin through the rough wool of his shirt as I melt into his hunger, the feel and taste of him molten. Like honey warmed to scorched liquid, shuddering through me.
I slide my hand up the taut muscles of his neck, through his hair. Feel his hot breath on me as he kisses my neck, my face, my hair, my lips, as if starved for me.
“I love you, Elloren,” he says, his voice ragged.
The warmth blooming inside me swells and fills my heart with a happiness so raw, it hurts. It feels so right to be with him. Like coming home after a long, impossible journey.
“Yvan,” I breathe against the sharp line of his jaw. “I love you, too.”
Out of nowhere, a fierce wind whips up.