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“I don’t, not when it comes to everyday meals, at least.” He took the platter from me and filled his plate. “My father has, but that’s necessary because of his medical needs, and my sister does because she hates cooking and burns water.”

I laughed. He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You think I jest?”

“I think you and your twin are equally capable at all manner of tasks. I can’t imagine a Lùtair heir being otherwise.”

“She’s a far better diplomat than me. I tend to speak when it would be better to hold my council.”

“In that, you’re like Lugh. Unlike him, of course, your free-speaking nature won’t cost you the job.”

“No, although there are times I wish it would.” He grimaced. “Enough of that. How did the scroll-reading go last night?”

“It was long, boring, and smelly.”

“Hmmm,” he said, “I was wondering what that slightly odorous scent was.”

I plucked a strawberry from my plate and tossed it at him. “I don’t smell.”

He caught the strawberry with a laugh and ate it. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t care, simply because it means a shower might be in order, and I could help soap your back.”

Having had my back soaped by him before, my hormones were immediately on board with that suggestion. My stomach, however, rumbled a loud reminder it had priority.

“We did find Loudon’s scroll, but it was in a really poor state. To be honest, I’m surprised Kaitlyn didn’t have it restored first—she could have commanded a much higher price.”

“But that would have eaten into her profit margin, and if Loudon was willing to buy as is, why would she go to that trouble?”

I picked up my knife and fork and started eating. It was absolutely delicious, especially with the caramel bananas and clotted cream. “It did make translating it that much more difficult, though.”

“With at least two if not three men there well versed in Latin and the old languages, that should not have been a problem.”

I smiled at his blatant attempt to uncover who else had been at Lugh’s. “It is when there’s water and mold damage making the writing illegible.”

“Then you weren’t able to pull any worthwhile information from it?”

“We did.” I sipped on my coffee. “It was an old council record of events?—”

“Our council? Because that would explain why they’ve been unable to find much information about it.”

“Mathi didn’t think so. It said the shield was hidden in the dark heart of Gruama?—”

“Gruama?” he cut in sharply. “Are you sure?”

I frowned at him. “Yes—why?”

“Because,” he said bluntly, “at a time when the old gods still roamed the world freely, Gruama was an ancient Myrkálfar settlement that existed within Hibernia.”

“Which is?”

“Ireland.”

“What happened to it?”

“According to our spoken history, a god armed with the shield made the earth run like water and totally erased all that was.” His gaze met mine, his expression grim. “The shield can’t be hidden in Gruama, because Gruama no longer exists.”

Chapter

Eleven

“Why would the scroll specifically mention it then?”