Page 97 of Crown of the Fae King

“What’s going on,” I whispered, not wanting to interrupt the heated discussion between Kitch, Urban, and Wickham on the other side of the room.

“We lost a set,” she said, without looking up. “Friends of Meral and Reem. They’re huddled in one of the rooms, blaming themselves.”

I sucked air deep into my lungs and thanked God I was still alive to do so. I couldn’t believe I’d been so cocky a couple of hours before, thinking I could face a couple of monsters all by myself.

“So no one is going to Tunisia?”

“Nope. Too dangerous unless we all go.”

I watched the men for a minute, but I couldn’t tell who was arguing to go. “Don’t tell me. Wickham says no.”

“You guessed it. He says we can’t just doggy paddle if we expect to win the race. He’s got plenty of other reasons, though. For one, Urban isn’t up to full capacity yet. Everly isn’t either, for that matter. And my confidence is a little shaky these days. I mean, if O’Ryan can get you arrested and taken off the board, and remove The Covenant and all the Fae research from the biggest libraries in the world, what will he do to us when he learns we’ve killed some of his dogs? That we’re a step ahead of him?”

“But we’re not a step ahead, are we, if people are still dying?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so…discouraged. Don’t listen to me.”

I looked up as Wickham headed our way, and I hoped he was only coming to get a drink. But I was wrong.

“Do ye ken what I think?”

“What?”

“I think we didnae drink enough of Sarah’s tea.”

“No kidding. We should have asked for an order to go.”

Though the argumentsseemed to be over—at least the fighters had retreated to their own corners of the room—the tension remained palpable. Thankfully, Wickham decided we should all take the evening for ourselves and meet back in the morning, after he had time to go through the recordings and information we’d collected at Muirsglen.

I hurried out of the room before he could suggest I help him. All the way to the girls wing, I expected to hear my name, but I was spared. A few minutes later, dressed in my blue nightgown ensemble and slippers, I ducked out again, headed to the little library at the end of the wing, where I grabbed an old, green, hardback novel.

On the top floor of the mansion we called home, there were small cozy bedrooms once meant for servants. I had a favorite. The window faced west, and in the evening, if the light was right, I’d get an orange glow across the ceiling that allowed me to pretend I was back in Wyoming again, in a bedroom meant for mere mortals, watching the very normal sun go down on a very normal world.

The novel was calledSaraband for Two Sisters, whatever that meant. In the first few pages, I realized it was a tale written about identical twin sisters, of all things. But I was already settled in, and the little library was two floors down, so I forged ahead.

The hero’s name was Richard, but the more I read about him, the more I saw Griffon written on the pages. After an hour of reading about this tortured man, I closed the book and held it, wishing I could wrap my arms around my professor instead.

My poor, sweet professor who couldn’t be trusted with a phone number. Who couldn’t be allowed to know where I lived. With whom I couldn’t be alone…

If it weren’t for the fact that O’Ryan was out there somewhere, possibly still in Oxford, I might just rebel. But I was a big girl. If I wanted to see Griffon badly enough, I could just walk out the front door…

If I read any more of that novel, I’d end up doing just that.

“Lennon!”

It was Urban’s voice, calling from far off. I jumped off the bed and rushed out into the hall just as he barked into the room beside the back stairs. “Lennon?”

“Urban! What’s wrong?”

He turned in surprise. Worry melted from his face. “Auch, praise God.” He took a second to take in the sight of me, noticed the book in my hand. “Ye’re alone?”

I laughed lightly. “Just who do you think I’d be with?” I read his face easily. “And just how is Griffon supposed to have gotten onto a property he shouldn’t be able to see if he was staring right at it?”

He shrugged and turned away. “I’ll tell the others ye’re here.”

“They thought I ran away?”

He didn’t answer and disappeared. I felt bad I’d worried anyone, but I felt worse for badgering Urban. He’d been frantic, worried about me, and I’d teased him for it.

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