Page 95 of Cursed Evermore
“Sure.” I brought my hands together to keep them from shaking.
With a brief smile, Garrick turned and headed toward the door. His long hair swayed as he walked, revealing more tattoos on the back of his neck. I watched him disappear into the hallway, almost wishing he'd stay. Compared to the other Fae males I'd met—especially Wolfe—he was far less abrasive. Maybe he really was the nicest.
The door clicked shut behind him with the finality of a tomb and the breath I’d held whooshed past my lips. I clasped my hands tighter, the blood in my veins thickening. Confrontation of any kind had never been my strength.
The unknown was what got me. You never could tell how the other person would react, what they’d say, and how it would end. It was so much worse when they had the upper hand. Like Wolfe did.
My body stiffened as I remembered yesterday’s meeting.
Like most things that had happened during this memory loop, I couldn’t wait to forget the encounter. Finding out your father had murdered a king and you had to pay for his crime was not something anyone would want to remember.
I walked over to the floating shelves, deciding to distract myself if only for a few moments. I’d wanted to check out the books in the other room yesterday.
This may be my only chance to get a good look at these while I was by myself. Who knew, maybe luck would finally cut me some slack and I’d stumble across a spell to help me escape.Not likely. If such a spell existed, Wolfe would never allow me in here.
The books before me were older than the others and held that nostalgic scent of a library with archives dating back centuries. Watching them on the floating shelves was an added bonus.
This study felt more personal and touched by a warmth that didn’t belong to Wolfe. A homey kind of vibe lingered here,softening the edges of the tension bleeding through the doors. It was almost comforting.
A miniature gold gyroscope spun on an invisible axis on the nearest shelf, its rings catching the light as tiny white sparks glowed within, scattered like stars forming a constellation. Moving closer, I realized what they were, what they represented: the six gods of fate worshipped throughout the magical realm, guardians said to shield souls from the six hells.
It was always interesting to me that the mortal lands had adopted the same concept of six hells but had set up something entirely different for their faith.
The gyroscope shimmered as if it had overheard my thoughts. Father once told me instruments like this were kept on ships for luck, a charm to guide sailors through treacherous seas. I wished for a fraction of that luck now as I stared at it, hoping the stars might decide to favor me.
I touched the leather spine of the thickest book on the shelf and gasped as it slid out and floated into my hands. I just about caught it before it drifted away.
The instant I got a grip, the book opened itself, the pages flicking earnestly on their own accord until landing on a double spread with some old language scrawled across it in big bold letters.
I attempted to decipher the language, but then the strangest thing happened. It changed into the common tongue spoken in Nelkaraad so I could understand it.
“What on earth?” I muttered.
The letters shifted around to spellMages of the Ravenwood Realm—the ancestral home that sang in my blood, where Grandmother and Mother had walked beneath ancient stars.
A breath later, more words emerged, arranging themselves into paragraphs that revealed the hidden paths to get there. The ink pulsed with each revelation, as if the book were alive in myhands. But heaviness pulled on my heart like an anchor dragging me toward a destiny I'd never asked for. Of all the secrets to reveal, why would the book show me this? The one place I'd dreamed of as a child but knew I could never reach.
I took a step backward only to collide with something solid yet yielding. A living wall that radiated heat through my shawl.
Warm hands clamped around my shoulders, steadying me with a touch that sent treacherous shivers cascading down my spine. Hot breath caressed the shell of my ear, carrying the scent of spiced wine and something darker. A primal, masculine scent that made my pulse quicken.
Wolfe. He was here.
The bastard snuck up on me again.
The fine hairs on my neck rose as the warmth of his exhale contrasted with the cooler air of the study.
“Interesting that your greatest desire leads you to the Ravenwood Realm instead of home.” That voice, smoky and rich, like dark velvet soaked in sin, struck deep in my core, leaving heat blooming in its wake.
Wolfe kept his hands on my shoulders, gripping tighter but with that annoying possession engrained in his touch.
I looked up slowly. He was so close that my cheek brushed against his beard, making the beads in his plaits clink. Menace overflowed from the grin that danced along his lips, and my nerves frayed like straw, ready to frazzle away at any moment.
“Is that where you want to go, little mage?” A storm of interest brewed in his eyes as he searched mine, then his gaze dropped to the book for a moment before he turned me to face him. “The Ravenwood Realm?”
“I was just looking at the book,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady. “It opened to this page by itself. I wasn’t searching for the Ravenwood Realm.”
“You didn’t need to search for it. The book knew. My father enchanted it to reveal the path to your greatest desire.”
