Page 79 of The Witch Queen

“It’s a character-based language the earliest of fae used. Some might describe them as runes,” he explains.

“I saw runes like this scratched into the cave wall,” Thorne adds.

“I would expect so,” Admon says with a knowing smile. “The fae have been in Thayaria for a very long time, as far as we know. And the earliest of them used those caves.”

“Can you read it?” I ask Admon.

“I can, though my ability is only rudimentary. Nemesia would be more competent.” I stiffen, thinking of myformersister and advisor. Now that the initial shock of her betrayal has worn off, all that remains is icy rage.

“Nemesia is no longer welcome in Thayaria,” I order sharply.

Admon’s eyes widen in shock. “Why not?”

“Thorne discovered correspondence between her and the leader of the Sons and Daughters. She was revealing information to him about her research findings in Velmara. She’s betrayed us.” My voice is steady and cool, the practiced ruler making an appearance, but inside I’m in turmoil. Thorne finds my hand and squeezes it before releasing it again.

“If that’s true, then I’m sad to hear it. Nemesia is my friend,” Admon says, though the words don’t quite reach his eyes.Maybe he doesn’t believe it.“Well, we’ll have to proceed with my basic understanding. It may take me some time to find the right passages and translate them.” I deflate. I hadn’t realized how much hope I’d placed in Admon knowing the answers, in him being able to tell me what to do. He seems to sense my distress. “I will translate as quickly as I can, Laurel.” I only nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Thorne says confidently, like he senses my distress and wants to get me out of there as quickly as possible. He takes my hand and leads me out of the room. Admon bows, but I barely register it. We walk hand in hand back to my rooms.

When we’re safely tucked away into my sitting room, Thorne hesitates, then says, “Laurel, I think we should talk about what’s next.”

“What do you mean, what’s next?”

“We’re mates. We want to jump each other’s bones, but you want to wait to do that, which I completely respect. I understand why you need more information—you’re not completely impulsive, like me.” He nudges me with a half-smile. “But I’d like to get to know you better while we wait.” Vulnerability, hope, and longing shine in his eyes, no trace of the confident Shining Prince in sight.

I swallow, palms sweating. “And how do you propose we do that?” My voice is tentative, uncertain.

He smiles, the mischievous look that makes my skin prickle back in his eyes. “We do what any two people do when they’re exploring a romantic relationship. We talk, we go out on the town, we have meals together. We just already know we have a soul-deep connection.”

His sureness about the mating bond scares me, so I tease him. “Are you asking if you can court me?” My smirk is plastered on my face, a shield against my feelings.

But Thorne responds seriously, eyes locked on mine in a look I can’t pull away from. “Yes, Laurel, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“Okay,” is all I can say, breathless, and he grins.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Wait, what? Tomorrow night? What are we going to do?” I ask, incredulous.

“For once in your centuries-long life, Laurel, you’re going to have to let someone else make the plan. Be ready just before the dinner hour.” Then he takes my hand in his and lifts it to his lips slowly, pressing the gentlest of kisses into my palm. He gives me a wink before walking out the door.

Nemesia

Mates are said to be a blessing from the gods. Very few fae get to experience the sacred joining of theiraether-heartwith another’s. Blood is, naturally, the conduit of realization for two fae, though many mates have reported feeling a deep connection to one another prior to scenting the blood of their mate. It is tradition to draw the blood of your mate, a symbolic gesture that shows no other will draw their blood again, because they are now under your protection.

The Traditions of the Fae

Instead of working in the crowded and noisy archives, Genevieve lets me use her office to study every day. It reminds me of my small reading nook in the Thayarian archives and is hidden away from the prying eyes of the other librarians. That fact also seems to be a reason Genevieve likes it so much as well—she’s an outcast, even amongst them. But it never appears to affect her. She’s always happy, always grateful for the life she was forced into for no reason other than her own mother’s death delivering her and the whims of the males who control her fate. When I work here, she brings me tea and snacks throughout the day on her breaks, and we talk until she realizes she’s late and dashes away again. During one such break, we’re drinking steaming cups of tea when she asks me about the books Mazus gave me.

“Have you found anything interesting in the books from King Mazus? The one you’re translating, or any of the others?”

I consider my words carefully. I like Genevieve. We’ve formed a fast friendship, and I want to trust her, especially after all the small cracks I’ve seen when she talks about Mazus. But I’ve also seen how brainwashed the Velmaran citizens are when it comes to the Golden King.

“Many interesting tidbits, though nothing that’s sparked my own particular interest. One of the stories about the fae says that we’re the descendants of a powerful group of goddesses.”

Genevieve laughs brightly. “What a fun story,” she giggles out, and the way it makes her cheeks flush and her eyes brighten overwhelms me with a need to touch her. I lean into her warm amber gaze and place my hand over hers on the table. Her eyes cut to mine, a question in them. Before I can say anything, she stands and straightens her gown, though I swear her fingers linger on mine for a moment before she fully pulls away. “I need to get back to covering my section. There’s a Reshnar scholar here. The King himself granted the request, so I should check in on him.” She turns her back to me.

“Wait!” I say, and she turns, eyes sparkling. “Would you like to join me for dinner this evening? I’d be happy to let you look through His Majesty’s books after.” I don’t know what’s come over me, but I don’t want her to go—I want her to stay here with me. The prospect of beautiful company after so much solitude both excites me and makes me cringe at my lack of restraint. I find her stunning, something about her quiet yet exuberant demeanor intoxicating. And the questioning look in her eyes when our hands touched… Could she—I don’t let myself finish the thought.

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