Page 76 of Whisper Woods

But the bath? Fuck me. The bath. It’s really more of a tiny pool. A tiny, round pool with a waterfall shower thatusuallyruns continuously with perfectly heated water.

When the magic of Tathys wasn’t, like, failing and all that.

I’m still not totally sure why the magic isn’t back up and running at full capacity considering the walls have fallen. Theoretically, the Gods’ will has been filled, right?

It was one of the hotly debated topics at length the other day when we were hauled in to see all the head honchos of Tathys. Considering I didn’tunderstand, they didn’t either.

That doesn’t mean they didn’t have theories, though. From the exhaustion on the High Eminence’s face, it looked like they’ve gone over them a thousand times.

Some believed that there was a ritual that was to be completed to reform the connection to the Mundane. Some argued that the whole mess is actually a curse from outside forces—though none of the Orun or Tavishers or High Council record keepers has found anything that backed that theory.

Except Heylor. I don’t think he actuallybelievedsome mystical being in the Mundane managed to not only remember that Tathys existed—despite their mammoth warding—and managed to somehow curse them. But itwasconvenient to his argument that Tathys needed to preserve its sovereignty from the Mundane and restore the walls.

Others, the most sensible in my opinion, suggested simply that the God of the Whisper Woods needs time to heal.

Either way, the clock is ticking on Tathys and the Mundane. Decisions need to be made. Personally—and Wolf agrees with me, but he’s an act first, think never kind of wolf—I think Tathys is getting too caught up in the details and trying to understand rather than just moving with what is. But that’s easy for me to say. My entire world isn’t being turned upside down and inside out.

That is not my problem, though. Right now, my biggest concern is that the water is still running cold, which is why we didn’t jump in last night.

Kinda wish I could use it now, considering I’m still all delightfully sticky from last night, but it’s not meant to be. Instead, I find a cloth to wet and a towel and give myself a rather cool once over to get cleaned up. Disappointingly, the bites and scratches have already begun to fade. They’ll be gone entirely by lunch. Hopefully Rafe can give me some more tonight.

At least the quick wash saves me from Wolf’s protests about getting rid of Rafe’s scent he so diligently bathed us in. I haven’t lost his marks entirely.

I dig around in the drawers until I can find something that fits, managing to find a pair of pants that don’t threaten to bust open at the seams when I squeeze my ass into them and call the job done. Who needs shirts anyway?

Wandering around Rafe’s house on my own does make me feel a little like a creeper. But I still feel at home. Maybe it’s Rafe’s scent everywhere that does it. It’s reassuring. But fuck, I can’t wait to find him. Wolf and I are both itching to just be close to him again.

I poke my head into a few of the different rooms upstairs. I know he’s not there, I can feel it, or more accurately, feel thelackof him, but I’m just being nosey.

There are a couple more bedrooms, and a room with a large piano-like instrument. Shaped like a semi-circle, it looks as though the player sits in the centre. Inside, rather than the strings you’d usually find, are cogs and wheels, and glass cylinders filled with a strange purple liquid that glow and sparkle kind of like the stars. I’ve never seen anything like it and I creep out of the room before I somehow accidentally break the delicate instrument by looking at it too hard.

I find the library by accident. The room is huge, with books lining shelves from the floor all the way to the impossibly high ceiling and several chairs of varying degrees of cosiness for reading. Along the back wall are doors leading out to the rear balcony, just like in Rafe’s bedroom. Only these doors—arched as is the Tathissian way—are inlaid with the most stunning glass butterfly.

It speaks to the builder in me. Okay, or I’m just too inquisitive for my own good as mum used to say over and over when I was little and getting into shit. But I still go and inspect the piece, running a loving hand over the metal framework around each tiny shard of glass.

That’s how I notice the books on the shelves.

I’d been expecting, I don’t know, ancient leather-bound tomes, or thick heavy classics filled with dry ass boring literature. But nope.

The lower shelves are filled—filled—with books and magazines from the Mundane.Well, colour me curious.The collection starts with a range of children’s books and then divides into more young adult paperbacks. There are shelves and shelves of non-fiction books on every topic you could imagine. Cooking, crafts, biographies, history. Even finance. One entire shelf is dedicated to gossip magazines—some years old. Shelves of fiction books, too. Every genre imaginable. Every so often I pull one out to have a peek before carefullyreplacing it.

That’s how I find the porn.

Like, a lot of it too.

Whoever started the collection had a thing for old pulp-style erotica. I paw through the collection with giddy glee. Are these Rafe’s? They have to be; he said that his parents weren’t Tavishers, so unless they were trading for these—which, no judgement if they were—that means this is Rafe’s dirty porn stash.

Laughing to myself, I put the books back exactly as I found them, determined to come back and check it out with my freaky dragon man as soon as possible.

Maybe I can get him to read me the good bits while I blow him?

My plans for the evening settled, I switch tactics and begin the hunt for some food. Thankfully, the dining room is easy to find, and even though I’ve obviously slept through breakfast, there is a carafe of something steamy waiting and some pastries laid out next to them. Victorious in my mission, I pour a cup and grab a couple of the pastries and set out to find, well, anyone.

My search confirms what I already knew in that weird little pit in my chest, Rafe’s not in the house. I try to not be too disappointed, I mean, it’d be really shitty ofmeof all people to be judgemental about leaving without warning. And Rafe’s an important guy with the whole Tavisher thing. I have no doubt that he’ll be back as soon as he can.

Okay, maybe I have a teeny, tiny bit of doubt.

At least Brydon is here. I find him in their office, hunched over a desk tucked into the corner of the room, surrounded by piles of books.

---