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He isn’t likely to. The only recordings of the night of the unity ritual are in the hands of the witches. And they have been very good at concealing their spell books and knowledge since long before the war. They have only grown more creative with their hiding places since.
I don’t bother saying any of that out loud.
Telling Fintan not to read is like telling a leprechaun not to play mean-spirited tricks, or a selkie not to swim. It goes against his nature.
“What’s managed to change your mood so drastically?”
“Your sire,” I grumble.
Finn hums, noncommittal, and I get the feeling Rune is in hot water with more than just me today.
He knows about Rune and Josephine. He must.
A few long minutes pass in silence as I watch him read, and the urge to ask grows strong, but as if he can sense the question coming, Finn picks up the conversation and steers it in a different direction. “Did you see the sunstone dagger?”
My heart jumps at the question, and I hope Fintan doesn’t catch it.
“The night of the unity ritual,” he clarifies, those piercing green eyes flicking up to meet mine before lowering to the page again. “You were there. Did you see it?”
“I was there. That’s how Celine and I were trapped in a unity bond—one of the first.”
“So, you must have seen the dagger.”
“I saw the dagger and the amulet, but I didn’t realize either of their importance until later.”
“Anything you remember about either of them could potentially give us a lead and help us track down the missing witchstone.”
My ears pick up the miniscule sound of the doorknob twisting, signaling Rune’s entrance and saving me from answering Finn’s interrogation.
“It’s about time you joined us,” I call as Rune navigates his way through the maze of books and shelves.
“You could have waited until tomorrow to call a strategy session. I’m missing my beauty sleep here, Bas.” The Viking comes into view and takes his place, leaning against a sturdy wall-to-ceiling bookcase.
Fintan watches his sire out of the corner of his eye. “I’d say you’re well-charged.”
Rune raises a thick brow and crosses his arms over his chest. “Is there something you want to ask me, Finn?”
“That depends on if there is anything you want to confess to me.”
“Nope. Nothing I feel I need to say.”
The two of them hold their ground over a long, tense moment of male machismo.
Really? Is this what it’s going to be like having Josephine in our midst?
“We can all retire to our quarters once we figure out what the hell Lilian Beauchamp is doing back from the dead. She spent the last twenty-five years living in a shack to stay under everyone’s radar. She wouldn’t reveal herself to us only to get help finding the sunstone dagger. There has to be another angle she’s working.”
And we need to figure out what.
I need the combined efforts of my Viking warrior and my Celt bookworm.
They seem to have missed the memo.
Neither of my seconds-in-command respond, too distracted by the territorial pissing match. I’m starting to think we should’ve rescheduled this conversation. Oh well, the damage is already done.
“Rune, what are your thoughts?”
“At this very moment? I’m thinking I should’ve crawled into bed with Josie if this is how the two of you are going to act.” His voice is low, angry, and directed towards Fintan.
