Page 91 of A Bond in Blood

“Are you not going to record this?” Ulrich asked.

I shook my head, pulled from my intense focus.

“Oh yes,” I muttered, pulling up the easel and marking down a few rough sketches with notes beside them.

When I lifted my head once more, Ulrich continued.

“This one—” he pointed to the door on the far-right, “leads straight down to the docks and city street.”

“For provisions,” I whispered.

“Correct,” Ulrich replied. “And this one—” He pointed to the door near the middle. The third-one from the left. “This one holdsallthe secrets.”

My pulse picked up while the words left his lips. The chance to explore secret passages in an ancient palace was enough to make my head swim with ecstasy. An experience I’d dreamed of having throughout my long life. A longing I had each time father and I visited Aesir.

“Would you like to go first?” Ulrich asked.

My hands trembled, making the koal in my hand shake against the parchment. “You lead the way,” I managed to reply.

Despite how enamored I was with the exploration, I would not place myself in a position that would allow him to be at my back. I wasn’t a total fool.

Ulrich nodded with amusement in his eyes, and he pushed the door open, stepping through with his hand waving for me to follow.

I gripped the easel and the koal in my hand as I stepped through then gasped at what I saw.

Before me was indeed a passageway, all lit by bright, unmelting candles but above was a brilliant unending skylight with the moon like a painting above.

“How is this possible?” I asked, spinning in place with my head craned up.

“Excellent builders who knew how to execute my vision,” Ulrich replied.

I pulled my eyes from the beauty above me and stared at the king. “How old are you?”

He stopped his steps, turning slowly to meet my eyes.

“There is no number in existence to recount the years I’ve lived.”

“That’s impossible,” I replied.

Ulrich smiled, stepping back and motioning to his body. “Look at me, Brenna. How old would you say mybodyappears to be?”

My blood rushed through me, and I turned my head. But his shadows had gripped my chin before I could fully cast my gaze away, forcing me to look upon him once more.

“Answer the question,” he commanded.

I shoved away the shadows, my fingers going through them eerily. I studied his features. Only I could barely study a single one beside the youth in his hands and body with his beard and mask covering his face.

“Well,” I sighed, “if you didn’t hide behind that mask, I would be able to tell you.”

His smile crept across his lips. “How old is Oberon?”

My mouth opened then closed suddenly. Shock ran through me. I hadn’t considered Oberon’s age. He was older, that much I knew with the white to his hair and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but I hadn’t ever stopped to wonder just how old he was.

I rubbed my temples. “I do not know,” I admitted.

“You are nearly one-hundred and fifty years old,” Ulrich stated. “Your father is, what, eighty years your senior? Perhaps a little more with his fae blood?”

I nodded.

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