Page 42 of Fate Unchained

“Yet one of you is hexed, and your pack is becoming runebound, one by one,” Baba Yaga said. Lilah thought there might be a slight gleam of glee in Baba Yaga’s eye as if she liked giving the vulk a hard time. “And not by regular magic, either, but by ancient magic with roots steeped in the most basic of forces. Love.”

Zann chuffed. “Love is for fools.”

It was like she’d tumbled into an entirely new world, one ruled by old magic, runes, and binding spells, with the vulk seemingly at the center of it all. The words from the page of the grimoire returned to her. For she was one of the zorzye, and a wyrdstaave, and when she spoke the particular magic of her kind, they affected him. According to Herskala, the vulk were also susceptible to a type of magic.

Lilah shook her head. Based on what Kyril said, the vulk had always chosen to shunt mates aside, and look what happened? Now runes were showing up, demanding each vulk face their mate.

She glanced at Kyril. Not that she wanted Kyril to consider her as his mate, but love was powerful. It made her blindly follow her aunt with terrible consequences and made people do all sorts of other foolish things. Out of all the books in her library, the ones people borrowed the most were the love stories. The ones about hope. About love conquering all. While she didn’t want love for herself, the vulk discounted it without considering it. Perhaps that was their real weakness.

Her gaze flicked from one vulk to another, lingering longest on Kyril. None of them would ever want to hear it.

Zann snarled. “Enough. We didn’t come here to talk about this.”

Baba Yaga waved her hand toward the table and settled into the chair at the head of it. “That’s right. Sit. I heard you were looking for me, but my assistance isn’t free.”

Zann nodded. “We’re here to trade information.”

The gleam returned to Baba Yaga’s eye. “It better be good.”

Zann strode to the chair at the other end of the table. He put his hand on the back. “The Herskala bowls are back, and we can give you information about them.”

Lilah jolted slightly. Really? She’d read about the bowls. Herskala created the unique items and gave them to four of his protégé. They could communicate with each other like a scrying bowl but also allowed for the passing of spells and other more advanced magic. But the Herskala bowls were things from another era. From ages ago.

Baba Yaga cocked her head from side to side as she debated her answer. “I accept your offer.” She waved her hand. “Sit.”

“And—” Lilah’s voice came out like a squeak, and she swallowed. “I’d like to look at one of your books over there.” She pointed at the one sandwiched between two fat tomes, where it glistened as bright as the fire.

All the vulk turned toward her. Zann let out a short growl. “Now is not the time for books.”

Kyril growled back and put his arm around her. “If she wants to look at it, there’s a reason.”

Her chest warmed, and she leaned against him. A small purr, so soft only she could hear, rumbled from his chest.

However, Lilah’s question made Baba Yaga stare at her much harder than before. It felt like the room was getting sucked away, and all that remained in front of Lilah were the two glowing coals of Baba Yaga’s eyes. She gripped the table. Her ears rang with a faint tinny sound as if she were going to pass out, but she didn’t feel faint.

Kyril pulled her close, breaking her eye contact with Baba Yaga. She gulped in a large breath of air.

He snarled. “What was that? Leave her alone.”

Baba Yaga ignored him, still focused on Lilah. “Yes, you can read the book, but you show me everything you see. Everything you unlock. Understood?”

Lilah nodded. Whatever Baba Yaga had just done, it seemed she’d somehow recognized Lilah’s skill as a wyrdstaave.

Baba Yaga nodded. “We have an agreement.”

The four of them sat, Kyril placing himself in the seat closest to Baba Yaga placing Lilah between him and Zann.

Baba Yaga waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

“What can you tell us about Herskala’s grimoire?” Kyril asked. He’d put their chairs close together, brushing his arm against hers every time he shifted.

Lilah gasped. “Herskala’s grimoire? The grimoire we’ve been talking about is Herskala’s?” Was the page she had carefully folded in her pocket possibly from the most powerful magical book ever written? Kyril never once mentioned who had written the grimoire he was tracking down. “Are you sure?” The grimoire was supposedly lost many, many centuries ago during the Deciding War.

Kyril jerked his chin toward Baba Yaga. “Show her the page. Let her tell us.”

Lilah swallowed hard, and her hand shook as she withdrew the parchment. She unfolded it and stared at it. Herskala was a big name in Coromesto. His Academy dominated one half of the city, the spires dwarfing anything else, and its shadow spread across the city like a winged bird ready to swoop. His shadow might spread across her family’s past, too, but she couldn’t be sure. Her research into that hadn’t yielded many results yet.

She pushed the page across the table to Baba Yaga. The small, slightly mocking smile on Baba Yaga’s face disappeared. She reached with a long finger and tapped the paper twice. A thick puff of burgundy smoke rose from it and swirled. A replicated image of the paper, no longer torn in half and crinkled, appeared in the air above them. It changed, growing and shifting, more pages joining it until they formed into a black, leather-bound book tied with a leather strap. The image of the book hovered above the table, turning slowly.

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