Page 59 of Thief of Souls
I wonder if he’s thinking of Soraya? There’s no hint of emotional disturbance on his face. Mistmark wields a smile like a mask, I think.
“Forgive me.” I pour myself another goblet of wine. “But how do the two of you know each other so well? I was under the impression Keir locked his court away from the world for several thousand years so he could twiddle his thumbs and write melancholy poetry. And yet, you seem to share a certain familial ease….”
They share a look.
“Keir is a collector of rare books,” Mistmark finally says. “AndIam the custodian of the Library of Arrenhahl. He might have been in self-imposed exile, my lady, but that didn’t mean he didn’t simply come and go from the world as he pleased. He merely didn’t bother to announce his presence. Every now and then I turn around in my library, and there he is with his feet kicked up on the sofa, and a glass of my good brandy in his hand.”
“Bottle,” Keir corrects. “You have excellent taste in reading material and fine liquors.”
“Yes,” Mistmark says in some exasperation, “but most of my acquaintancesaskfirst.”
He’d said he was friends with Mistmark—Alaric, he’d called him—but it’s the first time I think I’ve seen him treating another male as if they stood on even footing.
“It drives Falion mad,” Mistmark says to me. “My castle is meant to be impenetrable, and yet Keir keeps getting in. Falion’s tried every spell, every ward and alert system, and somehow he bypasses them all.”
I could tell them how he’s doing it, but I don’t think that would be wise.
I do, however, smirk at Falion.
And then I lace my fingers together. “Library of Arrenhahl? Is that not the repository of the Living Oracle? They say there are copies of every book ever written within its walls.”
“Icouldtell you,” Mistmark says in an apologetic tone, “but then I would have to kill you. I am its Guardian, after all.”
It’s tempting to point out how he is clearly failing if he can’t keep Keir out—and that gives me some insight as to why my prince…. I mean, whyKeir,keeps stealing inside it.
Because he can.
“Interesting. Have you read every book within its walls?”
Mistmark smiles. “I’m notthatold. Not like Keir.”
“But I’d imagine you’ve learned so many intriguing things. And you’re clearly an intelligent male.” I rest my arms on the table and lean forward. “Perhaps you can settle a bet between me and Keir?”
Keir’s hand comes to rest upon the back of my neck.“What are you doing?”
I don’t know how he’s in my head—please tell me he can only send private thoughts and not pluck them from my mind—but I ignore him.
“I’ll try, my lady.”
“Excellent.” My smile holds teeth. “You see, we were having a silly little argument about something and Keir thinks I’m wrong. Perhaps you can clear it up for me?”
“Zemira. You can’t ask him about the horn.”There’s tension in his touch.“We’re friends, but I’m not entirely certain I trust him.”
“I can only try,” Mistmark muses, noticing Keir’s strain and clearly mistaking it.
“When a fae male sends out a Summons for a truemate—a bride—he knows she’s out there,” I say, “because he’s been granted a vision by the goddess. Keir claims he could foretell my arrival by the constellations in the sky.”
Mistmark stiffens as though he realizes I’ve just pushed him out onto a frozen river and I’m about to throw him an anvil.
And Keir’s stareincineratesthe side of my face as his head whips toward me.
Oh, you didn’t expect that question at all.
“Sometimes the goddess is so merciful, yes,” Mistmark says carefully.
Falion finally looks interested in something other than the figs.
“What if they get it wrong?” I ask, because I’m not above pushing Keir out onto that ice with an anvil too. “How can they tell if she’s truly the one?”
