Page 73 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“I might still have a friend here who is one of his bookkeepers. Only a very select few scholars have a key just to tend to his books. They would perish without proper care.”

Edith was proving to be far more useful than simply tending to her needs. “You would really help me?”

“I think the high lord would appreciate your initiative!” She beamed. Tauria didn’t know why it made her wary. Edith had been nothing but innocent and kind, but this answer to her problem came easier than Tauria was used to, and that had her searching for a trap.

“He wouldn’t like me trespassing on his personal space,” Tauria said skeptically.

Edith waved her off. “I’ll bring the relevant books to you. Then they’ll be returned. He’ll only know his scholars were within the study.”

Tauria nodded, uttering her thanks. For now, all she had were endless tomes of knowledge she already knew, but it would do no harm to check while she was stuck here anyway.

Hours later, and she was beginning to think Mordecai had forgotten about bringing her here. She slumped into a deep black velvet chaise littered with open books. Edith sat on the edge, engrossed in her own book.

She watched the dark fae and didn’t expect to grow a protective attachment to her, much like how she’d grown a bond to Opal, Tarly’s younger sister, in Olmstone. Though Edith was of an age to look out for herself, Tauria knew that wasn’t enough.

“No matter what happens, I hope you’ll stay by my side,” Tauria blurted.

Edith blinked away the fatigue of staring too long at the text. “You’re very kind.”

That told Tauria the dark fae wasn’t used to being seen or receiving any kindness.

“The high lord has called you for supper, Your Highness,” a fae interrupted.

Tauria’s stomach twisted with hunger. It was about time.

“I’ll meet you later,” Edith said as she stood. Their secret to retrieve the books in Mordecai’s study hung in that farewell.

Tauria wouldn’t hold her breath in case Edith couldn’t convince her friend to slip the books from his collection. She would find another way, for what would he have to hide that he needed to keep so closely guarded?

Dining with Mordecai would always be an awkwardly unpleasant experience. They often ate in silence, but hispresence always made her skin crawl as if she were in the company of a wraith, not a full person.

She slipped glances at him when he was occupied in his meal. Everything he ate was normal. The fact he was a resurrected being unsettled her. As if he should burn in sunlight or only eat raw meat, or as if he were hiding some ugly form beneath his temporary flesh.

Tauria swallowed, upsetting her stomach with her own outlandish thoughts.

“Are you not well?” Mordecai asked, pinning her with soulless onyx eyes.

“It seems I’ve taken a turn,” she confessed.

Tauria reached for her goblet clumsily at the same time as a servant leaned in to top up Mordecai’s, causing it to topple. She gasped, snatching her hand back when the thick crimson liquid flooded over the table and some of the food.

Her hand clamped over her mouth, and she stood from the table.

“You are aware the dark fae drink human blood. The Transitioned need it survive,” he said, so nonchalant despite her horror.

“And what are you?” she snapped.

“Deathless.”

A dark coil lanced her spine. She didn’t know what that meant—that he couldn’t be killed?

“Did you want to be brought back?” Tauria dared to ask.

Mordecai considered her question, leaning back in his chair while the servant tried frantically to clean the blood. It was futile. Tauria noticed his round human ears then.

“Had I the choice, I think I would have said yes. My time ended before my mission was achieved. However, had I known the condition would be slavery to a powerful Goddess, I might have declined.”

“Then why do you do her bidding? What does she have over you?”

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