Page 97 of Courting War
The book was clearly for her. It looked like the one she kept in her nightstand.
Morrigan unfolded the note and read, “You’re going to need this. —Gallagher.”
Kellyn’s chest warmed. He appreciated that he didn’t have to ask her to read it. She did it of her own volition because she knew it was helpful.
“What is it?”
“It’s a book of spells.” She breathed through a clenched jaw.
He gulped. That was a new development. A spell book. Wasshe a long-lived witch like Hecate or Circi?
“You have a book of spells.” It was a terrible question. He was so clumsy. Clumsy like his hands which were still poorly cleaning her wounds.
“Yes . . .”
“It has spells in it.” That wasnotbetter.
“Yes.”
“Can you use magic?” That was worse. He was and always would be a big dumb brute so unused to holding a conversation that he blurted out things like that. He grunted. “Healing magic?”
“I can.”
“Good, because you’re broken. You need—” The muscle in her jaw ticked.Oh, Havyn, take him. Broken was the first word that came to his mind. He was getting so much worse. She made him nervous. Her beauty, the power of her presence, it all confounded him.
“I mean . . .”What did you mean, fool?Think of something quick. Morrigan would incinerate him if he didn’t say something . . . anything . . . “Who are you, Morrigan?”
Nope. Not that.
He was digging his grave thirty-seven feet deep at this point.
She laughed and trailed her fingers against his face. “There is a spell in there to heal us.” She ignored his question, instead pointing at his back with her chin. “Except I can’t read the book.”
“Oh.”
“But you can.”
His brows shot straight up.
“Only a descendant of House Azraelle can read Hecate’s Grimoire,” she said, “but don’t worry, you don’t have to read it, you just have to tell me the letters.”
“Oh . . .” He was so illiterate and dim. He couldn’t speak at all around her. Not at this moment.
She handed over the book. “Ask it for a healing spell. It will respond to you.”
“Just ask?”
“Yes.”
With the soft, old leather caressing his fingers, he asked, “Show me a healing spell?”
The book flipped open of its own accord, stopping on a blank, aged page that slowly filled with blood-like ink. The top of the page was in the common tongue, and he read it out to Morrigan, “Mix dirt and water and rub into the wound as you read the incantation three times.”
Reading wasn’t so daunting when he knew he wasn’t being judged. When it came to reading, Morrigan settled him, giving him confidence. She made him calmer, sturdier . . . better. At least until he met her azure eyes, and his heart started nervously ticking again.
Kellyn’s nose wrinkled as he looked at the incantation. “It’s in a different language.”
Morrigan leaned over but shook her head. “I can’t see anything, but why don’t you simply read me the letters.”
