Page 19 of Mistress of Hours

There were many stories of what life had been like while the magic was alive amongst their people. Now, it was nothing more than folk tales, but Orion knew there was truth to them.

Stories of the Contrapensae, immortals chosen by forgotten gods who protected the world’s balance, were told to Beitar’s children at bedtime. They were raised dreaming of the powerful heroes, hoping that they would appear and set this imbalance in their world to right.

Orion set the book on water wielders back on the shelf and continued his search. After a moment, his eyes fell on what appeared to be a children’s book—The Tuanadair Prince.

The book was small, and very old. Orion had heard the story before, but he still found himself opening the tiny volume. It told the story of a Tuanadair who searched far and wide through Beitar to find his Còmhanam. Though Còmhanam were said to be a soul’s perfect match, they were rare. So rare, in fact, that a true mated pair only found each other about once every hundred years. The prince was determined though, and he found his match one day as he was out riding through one of the snowy valleys of Beitar.

A majestic stag, lithe and strong, had stopped to stare at the prince from across a clearing. The stag was unnaturally large, so the prince recognized it as a fellow Tuanadair. He knew the moment he saw the shifter that he belonged to them.

The pair met secretly in the woods then, running through the snow and pines in a world of their own—the stag and the prince in his shifted hare form. Despite the instant connection between them, they gave each other time to let love and devotion grow. When the time was right, the prince brought his partner backto their capital city of Sgùrdruid and introduced them to his parents, the king and queen.

The stag Tuanadair was a common-born blacksmith, though, and the king and queen did not approve of this match for their son. They turned their son’s Còmhanam out of the castle, and the prince began to go mad with grief. Every night the stag found a way onto the castle grounds and waited near their love’s window, hoping for their separation to end.

Weeks passed, and the pair was wasting away—the prince in his tower and the stag waiting patiently outside. When it seemed their story may end in tragedy, Aosda, the wild god of the Tuanadair, appeared to the king and queen, admonishing them for keeping a pair of his perfectly matched Còmhanam apart. Aosda himself set the prince free of his tower prison and saw the lovers reunited, and all of Beitar then rejoiced that their prince had found his soulmate—his Còmhanam.

Orion’s chest felt tight as he finished reading the fairytale and closed the book. It was this particular folktale that had consumed his thoughts for the past fourteen hours or so. The irony of finding it just now in this library of all places was not lost on him.

There were details on Còmhanam bonds in some of the oldest books in Beitar’s rebuilt library, but they dated to just after the first Ichornian arranged royal marriage took place. Orion had studied these writings knowing that the information in them was likely true, but irrelevant given the loss of Beitar’s magic.

An instant pull, both physical and emotional, was noted as the most pronounced sign of a Còmhanam bond. It was said mated pairs would feel inexplicably comfortable around one another, and would find a seemingly impossible degree of pleasure in closeness with their Còmhanam.

There were also more… anatomical consequences of the bond, regardless of the Tuanadair’s animal form. Orion didn’t dwellon the long list of possibilities. It only mattered if he had access to his magic, which he—like every other Tuanadair of his generation—had never had.

He tried to put all thoughts of Còmhanam from his mind as he perused the shelves. However, he was unsuccessful after only two minutes because hefelther approaching.

As sure as the sun hung in the sky, Evienne d’Auclair walked briskly past the end of the aisle he was standing in. She moved in a flurry of green velvet, her skirt swishing as she strode across his field of vision. Before he could stop himself, he called out to her.

“Evienne, you seem in quite the rush. Is all well with you?”

He couldn’t quite keep the hint of desperation out of his voice. He was relieved to see her after she had consumed his thoughts so wholly. He had the strange compulsion to ensure her welfare, to see that her needs were met.

“Orion,” she said, her cheeks flushing to match the rosy shade of her lips. “Yes, I am well.” She worried her lip and glanced away, feeling what Orion assumed was some awkwardness at seeing him after their encounter last night.

“Good, I am glad of it,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling at her.

As he looked at her, Orion realized that he had the urge to tell Evienne about the true reason for his trip to Ichorna. Could he trust her? She seemed to care deeply for others; he doubted she knew what he suspected Ichorna had been doing to the people of Beitar all of these generations. Even he didn’t know the full extent of what was occurring; he knew their magic was dwindling, and that it had begun around the time of the first royal union, but he did not know how the magic was stolen or for what purpose.At this point it was purely conjecture, but would Evienne put helping others above her loyalty to Ichorna?

To truly find answers, he would need someone who had beenhere in Ichorna to observe, knowingly or not, what may be happening. His longing to confide in her, to trust her, further stoked his suspicions around who she may be to him, no matter how impossible it seemed. He supposed he would never know for certain.

He reigned in his feelings, opting instead to ask, “Would you like to sit with me and read for a while before the garden party this afternoon?”

Evienne’s brows rose in surprise, but she quickly covered the expression with a smile.

“I’d love to. I was planning to see my friend, but it seems she is busy this morning,” she answered, a wicked gleam forming in her eye as she added, “Were you planning to sit here?”

She gestured to the couch they sat on last night as he touched her; it was awash in a warm orange glow from the fire nearby. His arousal washed over him in a wave as she stood there smirking at him, waiting for his response.

“Yes, in fact. Should we call for some tea?” He answered, smiling right back at her. Orion knew he was playing a dangerous game with a dangerous woman, but he was loving every second of it.

Chapter Thirteen

Evienne knew shewas flirting with Orion as she challenged him to sit with her in the very spot of their tryst the previous night, but if it was a means to talk more with him one-on-one…perhaps she could glean some valuable information. She told herself she was doing all of this just to make Orion trust her, open up to her. But a quieter voice in her mind whispered her true motivations; she couldn’t look too closely at them or she would find herself poised for heartbreak.

“What brings you to the library today, Professor?”

“Well, as you may have guessed, I do love books a great deal,” he answered, a dimple showing on his left cheek. Evienne cursed internally—she couldn’t get enough of his dimples.

She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. “I meant, are you working on anything in particular? Any research questions to delve into while you’re here?”

---