my waist, I reclined into the cushioned seat of the library bay window. Morning light filtered through the panes, casting the labyrinth of bookshelves and tables in a peaceful light. The room was quiet, save the occasional crackle of fire in the hearth. While the library was hardly ever packed, the total absence of people today reminded me of just how many we’d lost. Sighing, I gripped the blanket tighter.
When early morning light had sliced through the curtains and woken us both, I’d expected Noc to pull me closer to his chest. We’d had little time to simple be. But he’d been quick to dress, back ramrod straight and shoulders tense, leaving me with nothing more than a chaste kiss and a claim that he had bounties to review. I believed him, but I couldn’t miss the haunted edge to his stare, the way his hands shook as they loosely brushed back my hair so he could skim his fingers down my neck. He’d disappeared after that without a word, leaving me with a sinking feeling of unease.
And so I’d escaped to the library, The Magic of Words in hand, and stolen the first blanket I could find. While he worked, I could too. Since we’d returned to Cruor, he’d go about his day returning the guild to something like normal, and I’d end up here, looking for clues that could help us eradicate the magic of his oath in case my fellow Charmers didn’t come through.
Yesterday, I’d finished a chapter on blood oaths and found myself furiously turning the pages, hoping the answer would leap out at me. The conditions were so similar to Cruor’s Oath: binding and near-unbreakable. And yet, nothing. There was no documented way to break a blood pact. If Cruor’s Oath held any of the same limitations, we were screwed.
Time slipped by as I skimmed passages about prophecies, curses, and powerful spells. Despite the wealth of information, there weren’t any answers to be unearthed concerning Noc’s oath. The magic of Cruor was one of a kind.
Pressing the book to my chest, I leaned against the cool panes of the window and glanced out over the open lawns behind Cruor. A sea of grass starting to brown at the tips stretched out before me, ending in an abrupt and riotous wall of gnarled trees and snarling, purple vines. The Kitska Forest never changed, no matter the season. The cursed wood had been that way ever since the First War between Charmers and Wilheimians. One myth suggested that the monsters who called the festering wood home were actually the souls of beasts reborn, trapped in our realm after they fell defending their Charmers during the First War.
Lightly, I stroked the bestiary puckered beneath the fabric of my shirt. A spark of warmth answered in response, and guilt sank low in my heart. Onyx, my beloved Myad, hadn’t been right since we returned. He’d seen—and inevitably experienced, due to our strong bond—my grief over Calem’s death and subsequent return. Onyx had been slinking through the woods of the beast realm yowling ever since. Begging for forgiveness.
Snapping my book shut, I stood and stretched my hands to the ceiling. Research could wait. Today, I needed to take care of my beast. He had nothing to apologize for, and it was high time he found the solace I’d been unable to attain for myself.
* * *
Cruor’s backyard was mostly quiet. With winter hinting at an early arrival, the morning chill was just plain cold, and the light breeze tickling my cheeks sent a shiver racing through my limbs. I was dressed in leather breeches, knee-high boots, and a long-sleeved tunic, with only my face and hands exposed. And even that was, apparently, too much.
I’d expected to find the lawns empty, but Emelia, Iov, and a woman I didn’t recognize lounged on the grass a few yards away. Laughter billowed up around them in a breath of mist, and I paused. I’d come out here with the intention of spending time with my beasts, but the last thing I wanted was to remind anyone of the horrors of Hireath. In the heat of battle there, Onyx had killed their brethren. Would the assassins of Cruor be able to forgive that deep a loss?
I ran my hands over my arms to chase away the sudden chill and turned to head back inside, but Iov spotted me and shouted a hello, his enthusiastic wave brooking no room for argument. Wearing similar getups of