Page 18 of Polestar (The Global Paranormal Security Agency #3)

SIXTEEN

M agnus smiled as he stepped into the library. “This was one of my favorite places,” he said to Ana.

His smile widened, noting her awe as she stared at the long room with its stacked concourses of floor to ceiling bookshelves.

Sometimes, when he was in Ireland, he’d visit the Trinity College library to soothe his homesickness.

It was almost as magnificent as this one.

He suspected that some rare, prestigious visitor had modeled it after the legend of the Great Library of Barentia, which was older than anyone could remember.

He was sure he’d once seen cuneiform tablets stowed away in the special collections room.

He was pleased to see the oil lamps and wall sconces had been replaced with much safer electric lighting since he was last here.

If there was electricity in the stronghold, that meant there were infrastructural changes elsewhere in the territory.

I’ll have to check for cell service once we’re back outside.

Though he seriously doubted they would have gone so far as to erect a cell tower on the mountain. Then again, there was electricity in the place now .

He indulged in his appreciation of the large room’s aesthetic while he observed Ana’s reactions to his home.

His gaze fell to Maerie, who stood nearby, her attention on him.

“It may be blasphemous to allow you in here, and even more so to say it, but I am pleased to see you in your beloved home again, Magnus. I know what it meant to you as a boy,” she said, no longer guarding herself against him.

She never had, here.

Few ever visited the beautiful repository.

After his mother’s death, he’d sought sanctuary in the library when he missed her.

Maerie had recognized this in him, as she’d known it in his mother.

She was risking punishment by allowing his access to the stronghold to be prolonged longer than the signing of the register.

“He comes here too,” she said, her voice quiet in the large space.

Elias.

His father Bjorn never, ever, set foot in this wing that had been dominated by his mother’s presence. Servants brought anything Bjorn wanted to his rooms.

Maerie had dared another risk, to speak of the family to a banished.

Frozen, he stared at her, wanting her to say more, yet not wanting to be tempted by what she could say. He glanced up into the stacks, lest someone should be watching, listening.

Registering his apprehension, Maerie stepped closer and kept her voice low. “He is so much like you—as you were at his age. And just as lonely.”

Regret tore at his heart.

Magnus nodded, acknowledging the kindness of the insight she offered him about his son. Turning his attention to the stacks, his jaw worked as he considered the unexpected onslaught of emotion, touching the leather-bound spines to ground himself.

Back under control, he returned his gaze to her patient face.

Maerie had always been kind to him, even before his mother’s death. There was no doubt she’d extend the same kindness to Elias.

“He is well?”

“As healthy as can be, despite his limited freedom.”

“Limited?”

Maerie nodded. “Everyone is limited. Even the young prince—especially the young prince.”

Magnus frowned. A prince should expect total freedom of the realm. How else was he to know his lands and people? “He doesn’t leave the stronghold?”

She shook her head. “Nor does the king. He’s rarely seen.”

“He’s ill?”

Maerie shrugged, but kept her voice low as she answered. “No one knows. Anyone that requests his presence is redirected to Mistress Ulla. Anyone that tries to circumvent her authority is met with the king’s personal guard and either turned away or imprisoned, if they’re too persistent.”

“What is going on here?” The sharp demand drew everyone’s attention to the open door between the library and the Registrar’s office.

Magnus straightened when he sighted the guard.

Havard.

Magnus’ cousin, boyhood friend, and head of security.

“The Registrar was just reminding me that I am forbidden to be in here, and demanded that I leave.”

Havard nodded, eyes leveled on Magnus, expression unreadable.

There was no sense of their boyhood bond or fondness in the man as Magnus approached and passed through the door, then the registrar’s office, and out into the open corridor.

Ana followed close behind. Maerie lingered at the threshold of her domain.

Several more guards waited.

They expect a confrontation.

Magnus decided it was time to push inward. “I demand to see my father.”

Havard tilted his head up to meet Magnus’ direct gaze. “You no longer have a father.”

With his head up, Havard’s beard was also lifted, exposing the black mark on his throat.

Magnus’ gut tightened as he stepped forward, towering over him. The other guards tensed.

Were they all marked? The Barentian’s propensity toward full beards obscured their throats.

He stared Havard in the face for a long moment. Ana hovered at his periphery with their backpacks in hand.

Although his stance was one of intimidation, he hesitated out of concern for Ana’s safety.

“Doesn’t he have a right to see his father once more?” Ana asked Havard.

“He is banished and has no rights at all,” he spat.

“Blood is still blood,” Magnus said.

Something flickered in Havard’s eyes, but it was so brief, Magnus wasn’t sure as they continued to stare at one another.

It was something Havard would often say to Magnus in their youth.

Havard scowled. To the men, he said, “Escort them out.”

One of the men grabbed Ana’s arm, shoving her toward the exit so hard she stumbled into the wall, dropping their bags.

“Don’t touch her,” Magnus snarled at the guard. He bent to help her to her feet and retrieve the packs. When he turned back to the guards, they’d all moved into defensive positions in the narrow space.

He stepped toward the men, ensuring Ana was behind him. He looked each man in the face then said, “if any of you touch my mate again, I will rip your fucking arms off.”

“Looking for a fight, Magnus?” Havard smirked. “Come on, shift.”

Magnus’ growl reverberated off of the stone walls and floor of the corridor as he dipped into a loose crouch, both shielding Ana and preparing to launch himself forward should he need to.

The other Barentians growled back, gripping their weapons tighter.

The stink of their fear as they faced him stained his nostrils.

A figure appeared at the end of the hall behind the guards.

Magnus’ heart stumbled.

“Stop!” A high voice cut across the deafening growls.

The others stopped immediately.

Magnus let his bass growl roll out, giving himself a few extra seconds to compose his reaction to the appearance of his son.

Still fully aware of Ana’s rapid breathing behind him, he didn’t ease his stance.

Elias strode forward.

The multiple guards surrounding Magnus hadn’t phased his heart rate.

The approach of his son sent it into a wild staccato.

Ana’s small hand slipped into his palm, soothing him.

By the time Elias stood just beyond the wall of Barentian guards, Magnus had eased his posture and controlled his emotions.

Despite her gesture to calm him, her fingers trembled within his grasp and her breath remained shallow.

Elias moved between the guards.

“Your Highness—” Havard stepped between Magnus and the boy.

No, not quite a boy, or not for much longer, anyway.

Elias’ throat was unmarred.

With some relief, Magnus drank in his son’s features.

Hair the same as his own. He stood at a level height with Havard. He would be as tall as Magnus, if not taller.

There was little of Ulla in Elias—physically, at least.

Gods, I hope he doesn’t favor her in character. My heart would truly break.

The odds were much higher, with his absence.

After a long moment, Elias turned to Havard. “I would speak with my father in the library.”

“Sire, it is forbidden—.”

“I will speak to my father,” Elias spoke over Havard, making his command clear.

Magnus struggled to maintain his impassive expression.

Did Elias remember him? He hadn’t thought he would, since he was so young when Magnus left.

No, more likely that he’d heard Magnus had returned for the signing and was curious.

Elias strode through the Registrar’s office, acknowledging her with a dip of his head. “Madam Gailensdotter.”

Movement drew Magnus’ attention to the far end of the hall that connected to a cross corridor where Elias had come from. Several figures hovered and ducked behind the corners.

Ignoring Havard, Magnus pressed Ana’s fingers, pulling her ahead of himself to follow Elias back into the library.

As much as he’d dreamed of seeing Elias again, he never thought it would happen.

Magnus wasn’t sure if he was ready for this.

He released her hand so that she wouldn’t detect the tremble that shook his own hands now.

S hock, delight, and fear swept through Ana on seeing Elias.

That was all layered on the instinctive terror that had ripped through her when the snarling echo-chamber had engulfed her senses.

She was so wide open, trying to read every little bit she could, anything that might help Magnus in some way.

The guards’ fear of Magnus assaulted her.

Magnus’ refusal to back down shored up her courage.

Even the librarian’s distress over the confrontation was palpable.

And just like that, a single word cut through it all, allowing her a reprieve to draw breath against the powerful emotions stifling her.

Elias.

The tenor of the atmosphere changed so rapidly it jolted her off balance.

Sandwiched between the young prince and Magnus as they went back to the library, she struggled to control the flow of emotional energy surrounding her—against their conflicted emotions surging against one another like waves trapped in a pool.

In the library, Elias and Magnus took each other’s measure.

Ana took theirs.

Elias: You’re here. You left me. You shouldn’t be here. I can’t believe you’re here. We don’t have much time. Take me with you.

Magnus: My boy. I miss you. You’ve grown. I never thought I’d see you again. We don’t have much time. I need to get you away from here.