Page 239

“The first few pages,” I say. “It’s fascinating!”

The tension between us melts away as we focus on the book. “Did you get to the part about her sister?”

I shake my head and open the book, marveling over it again. “Not yet. I can’t believe how perfect the condition is. The indentations from the pencil are still visible! And look how there are times she uses both Ancient Daoine Sith and the more modern. They must have been transitioning the language at the time.” I flip to another page. “It’s so interesting. She has even used some mortal words!”

The stranger leans over, brushing his fingers over one of the passages. “Look, here she talks about how their father created Faerie to keep them all safe. She must have been a child when that happened.”

I nod, my fingers following the path of his. “But you see this note in Daoine Sith? It looks as if it was added later.Father the savior, Father the fool.That’s newer than the original passage. You can tell from the markings.”

The stranger shifts closer. “It appears the sisters had a volatile relationship. Perhaps that’s what caused the civil war. No one really knows. It was all swept under the rug.”

I turn the page, reading aloud, “Her descent into madness and darkness can pull me down. How can I let her go it alone?Her struggle is so clear here.” I frown as I continue, “She was a force too fierce for the cause. Her malice was poison. Nothing could have survived it.”

The stranger’s fingers accidentally brush over mine as he continues to read the passage, and my skin tingles from the touch. “Even mine. My light was not a cure. And soon the land became pitched in darkness. A deal struck. A blood debt paid.”

I feel his gaze on me as I continue, “The final candle has been lit, the wick weary. Soon, there will be nothing left.” I turn the page to continue, but the passages are… different. While those are dark, dreary, and void of hope, the following pages are much lighter. It’s almost as if they were written by someone else, yet the handwriting is the same elegant script.

The stranger is quiet for a long moment, and I glance at him.

“That passage we just read. It is new.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking back down at the book.

“That passage we just read. It wasn’t there before. I have read this book thousands of times. I have never seen that.”

I flip through the book and look at the front and back cover, trying to find a rune of concealment. “Huh. Maybe because I’m fae? Maybe it unlocks something?”

“Well, I think you might be the first fae who’s touched it since I… liberated it.” I hear the smile in his voice, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Liberated, huh?”

“I was a child with sticky fingers lost in an ancient library.”

I laugh, throwing my head back in delight.

I turn the page, and another passage presents itself.

“The realm is torn in half and for nothing. For our father’s last cruel laugh as she slit his throat.”

“This part is?—”

“Her sister killed him?” the stranger interrupts, his body going tense.

“Yes, and it was… gruesome.” My eyes move over the passage about her father’s murder. “These new entries seem to be more erratic. Unstable. Her sister appears to be falling into darkness and her into madness.” I brush my hand over the Ancient Daoine Sith markings in the margins. “These are almost feral, and this one barely makes sense.”

I feel his gaze on me. “Read it to me? My Ancient Daoine Sith is not very advanced.”

I look over the text, trying to make sense of it. I’ve always been able to read Ancient Daoine Sith, though I’m not sure why. As far as I know, there’s never been anyone to teach me.

“A shadowed cave with petals shows beauty to only those that see it.” I move to another one, “Malevolence is the nature of the careless. Tread with chaos.”

The stranger ponders the words, and the center of the page flickers with a soft, beautiful glow before a rune appears.

“A rune?” he asks.

I nod, frowning at it. It seems to move over the page like the paper is a slow-moving river, and it’s bobbing on the surface. I start to deconstruct the rune, trying to work out its origin and use.

“This rune, it’s…” I tilt my head, looking at it from another angle. The stranger reaches toward the page, about to touch it, when the meaning of the rune snaps into place in my mind. I know what the rune is. Fuck. I grab his wrist. “Don’t touch it.”