Page 17 of House of Ydril

“And when you touch them, nothing happens?”

I frown and then shake my head.

“Curious,” she says, tilting her head in thought. “It might be either of the two. The Trials or the books. Let’s start with the books. That one might be quicker.”

I can’t help but straighten in my chair, excitement shooting through my body. “Really? You could help me figure it out?”

For the first time since she appeared in my room, the girl smiles. “I wasn’t the most powerful fae in my generation for nothing. However…” She looks deep into my eyes. “There will be some magic involved. And you said you’re unable to use your runes.”

“I’ll find a way,” I rush to say, my voice filled to the brim with eager determination.

Chapter ten

Firstthinginthemorning, I rush to the House of Lycan to find Nuala. My mind is buzzing with possibilities and I can’t wait to do the spell to find out who left me all the books. Moswen’s instructions were clear, but I still take the diary with me, just in case we need her again. And I suck at magic and Nuala’s not even a fae and I’m not what you could call a lucky person, so I’m not sure how it will all turn out, but I have to try. My friend’s not in her room, so I head straight for the cafeteria.

“You’re not even going to have breakfast?” she asks me when I rush up to her and tell her I need her help with something.

“Nope, too excited,” I say. “Couldn’t even sleep.”

“In the name of Lycan, Quinn,” Nuala shoots me a worried glance. “It sounds serious,” she says as she gets up off her chair. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me find the Greenhouse,” I reply as I tug on her sleeve to make her go faster.

The Greenhouse is where faes have their Meditation classes. I haven’t been there yet because I’m still in the more basic program. But it turns out Nuala knows exactly where it is, so I follow her down a couple of excruciatingly long hallways until one of them opens up onto a winding staircase.

At its very top, there’s an ancient looking door that opens with a nauseating creak. And just like that, we find ourselves above ground, in a huge glass structure bursting at the seams from the ridiculous amount of trees, bushes and plants.

I stop for a second, looking up at the huge glass dome and inhaling a scent so intoxicating, I think I might topple over. “Holy fucking shit, this is just…”

I turn to Nuala, my eyebrows raised and my mouth open in awe, but she just stands there with her arms folded and her lips pressed tight. On our way here, I told her everything about my discovery of Moswen and her plan for my next step.

Let’s just say that Nuala doesnotapprove.

So I just throw her an apologetic look “Let’s go find the thing,” I say and start walking again. I take out the piece of paper I’ve scribbled the info on. “The Wynnach Thorn.”

“So it’s some kind of flower?” Nuala asks as she follows me down a gravel path and deeper into the Greenhouse.

“Moswen said it’s a shrub,” I answer, stopping to show her the image I found online. “And we only need one leaf.”

“Okay,” she just says, but I can still hear the disapproval in her voice.

It doesn’t take us long to find it. We stumble on what seems to be a round workspace with rows of Wynnach Thorns in ornate pots. And there’s a large wooden desk with all sorts of tools left lying on its surface.

“This is perfect,” I almost yell out as I walk up to one of the pots, grabbing a pair of small garden shears from the table and crouching in front of the plant.

“Moswen said to be careful,” I say without turning to look at Nuala. “Each leaf hides a little thorn that can be deadly if it pricks your skin. And it finds a way to prick it because, well, that’s what it does.”

“Maybe you should be careful about Moswen, too,” I hear my friend reply. “I wouldn’t believe everything that that ghost of a woman says.”

I don’t say anything. I simply don’t want to continue the argument we had on our way here. It’s enough for me, the fact that I trust her, even though I’m not sure why.

So I just clip a leaf off the stalk and jump back up, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s try it.”

“I don’t understand how it’s supposed to work,” Nuala says, squinting at my hand.

“Patience, dear Fionnuala,” I drawl, the combination of her full name and my regal tone of voice making her chuckle. “Grab that bowl and pour some water. Chop chop.”

While she does that, I take the stuff I brought with me out of my backpack. I place one of the books on the table and pour some ink into the bowl of water my friend places in front of me.

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