Chapter Twelve

O rion let the scent of books wash over him. He hadn’t slept, his mind racing at the possibilities. He couldn’t stop thinking of her, of what they had done. He had found release at the taste of her on his fingers; it had been ecstasy. None of his previous lovers ever had him falling over himself this way. He was determined to find answers. He had come here to do what he could to save his people, but he was worried now the stakes may be more personal.

He had spoken with a librarian upon arriving, asking for directions to any resources on Beitar or its history. Even a general history of magic in Domhan na Rùin could be helpful for his purposes. He had kept his inquiry general so as not to raise any suspicions; he was a Professor, after all. It was only natural he would be interested in the Ichornian royal collection.

The librarian had directed him to an aisle of the stacks that was toward the back of the library, near where he and Evienne had been the night prior. Of course the section would be near that couch. He swore he could still smell the scent of her on the air. He had been warring with thoughts of Evienne since he first saw her. He knew his suspicions about what she may be to him couldn’t be confirmed without his magic. He should ignore it and stay focused—or, at the very least, let himself enjoy Evienne’s company knowing that in a few weeks, he would never see her again.

He began to peruse the section the librarian had led him to. He did find a few more general works, but very little on the magic of the Tuanadair specifically. The sections about the other nations of Domhan na Rùin were more robust. He sighed in frustration; he had hoped this would be an easy place to start.

The destruction of the ancient library in Beitar was not a well known point of historical knowledge across the continent, and their King wanted to keep it that way. Apparently that, too, made them vulnerable. His people had not forgotten what was done when Ichorna’s king had come to claim his royal bride two hundred years ago; the way they laid waste to Beitar’s cultural heritage.This—in addition to the bizarre customs surrounding the consorts sent to Ichorna over the centuries—was why Solon and Orion were so suspicious of Ichorna.

Over the years, they had both noticed how their King stifled anyone asking questions or pushing to find the reason behind the disappearing magic. He seemed as indifferent to it as his predecessors had been. They simply ignored the problem, focusing instead on maintaining an iron grip on the people of Beitar—on keeping them secluded from the rest of the world.

None of it made sense, but people were too afraid to seek out answers without the King’s blessing. Orion and Solon had been discussing their concerns quietly for years, and the millennium celebration had presented them with the opportunity to act.

Orion pulled out a book titled Aphana: Heart of the Sea and began to flip through its pages. It was filled with beautiful illustrations of an underwater city and chapters detailing the ways Aphanians could wield their magic. His eyes scanned the words, but his mind still drifted.

He and Solon were here for one reason, and that was to find out if and how Ichorna had been siphoning or suppressing Beitar’s magic. It had started so subtly that many hadn’t noticed for years after that first Ichornian King had taken his Beitaran bride. By the time the third consort left to wed his Ichornian King, the changes to Beitar’s magic were severe.

Beitar was an ancient nation of shifters—Tuanadair—with powerful magic and a deep connection to the natural world. They honored balance, and found the animal part of their souls to be a perfect compliment to their human natures.

There were many stories of what life had been like while the magic was alive amongst their people. Now, it was nothing more than folk tales, but Orion knew there was truth to them.

Stories of the Contrapensae, immortals chosen by forgotten gods who protected the world’s balance, were told to Beitar’s children at bedtime. They were raised dreaming of the powerful heroes, hoping that they would appear and set this imbalance in their world to right.

Orion set the book on water wielders back on the shelf and continued his search. After a moment, his eyes fell on what appeared to be a children’s book— The Tuanadair Prince.

The book was small, and very old. Orion had heard the story before, but he still found himself opening the tiny volume. It told the story of a Tuanadair who searched far and wide through Beitar to find his Còmhanam. Though Còmhanam were said to be a soul’s perfect match, they were rare. So rare, in fact, that a true mated pair only found each other about once every hundred years. The prince was determined though, and he found his match one day as he was out riding through one of the snowy valleys of Beitar.

A majestic stag, lithe and strong, had stopped to stare at the prince from across a clearing. The stag was unnaturally large, so the prince recognized it as a fellow Tuanadair. He knew the moment he saw the shifter that he belonged to them.

The pair met secretly in the woods then, running through the snow and pines in a world of their own—the stag and the prince in his shifted hare form. Despite the instant connection between them, they gave each other time to let love and devotion grow. When the time was right, the prince brought his partner back to their capital city of Sgùrdruid and introduced them to his parents, the king and queen.

The stag Tuanadair was a common-born blacksmith, though, and the king and queen did not approve of this match for their son. They turned their son’s Còmhanam out of the castle, and the prince began to go mad with grief. Every night the stag found a way onto the castle grounds and waited near their love’s window, hoping for their separation to end.

Weeks passed, and the pair was wasting away—the prince in his tower and the stag waiting patiently outside. When it seemed their story may end in tragedy, Aosda, the wild god of the Tuanadair, appeared to the king and queen, admonishing them for keeping a pair of his perfectly matched Còmhanam apart. Aosda himself set the prince free of his tower prison and saw the lovers reunited, and all of Beitar then rejoiced that their prince had found his soulmate—his Còmhanam.

Orion’s chest felt tight as he finished reading the fairytale and closed the book. It was this particular folktale that had consumed his thoughts for the past fourteen hours or so. The irony of finding it just now in this library of all places was not lost on him.

There were details on Còmhanam bonds in some of the oldest books in Beitar’s rebuilt library, but they dated to just after the first Ichornian arranged royal marriage took place. Orion had studied these writings knowing that the information in them was likely true, but irrelevant given the loss of Beitar’s magic.

An instant pull, both physical and emotional, was noted as the most pronounced sign of a Còmhanam bond. It was said mated pairs would feel inexplicably comfortable around one another, and would find a seemingly impossible degree of pleasure in closeness with their Còmhanam.

There were also more… anatomical consequences of the bond, regardless of the Tuanadair’s animal form. Orion didn’t dwell on the long list of possibilities. It only mattered if he had access to his magic, which he—like every other Tuanadair of his generation—had never had.

He tried to put all thoughts of Còmhanam from his mind as he perused the shelves. However, he was unsuccessful after only two minutes because he felt her approaching.

As sure as the sun hung in the sky, Evienne d’Auclair walked briskly past the end of the aisle he was standing in. She moved in a flurry of green velvet, her skirt swishing as she strode across his field of vision. Before he could stop himself, he called out to her.

“Evienne, you seem in quite the rush. Is all well with you?”

He couldn’t quite keep the hint of desperation out of his voice. He was relieved to see her after she had consumed his thoughts so wholly. He had the strange compulsion to ensure her welfare, to see that her needs were met.

“Orion,” she said, her cheeks flushing to match the rosy shade of her lips. “Yes, I am well.” She worried her lip and glanced away, feeling what Orion assumed was some awkwardness at seeing him after their encounter last night.

“Good, I am glad of it,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling at her.

As he looked at her, Orion realized that he had the urge to tell Evienne about the true reason for his trip to Ichorna. Could he trust her? She seemed to care deeply for others; he doubted she knew what he suspected Ichorna had been doing to the people of Beitar all of these generations. Even he didn’t know the full extent of what was occurring; he knew their magic was dwindling, and that it had begun around the time of the first royal union, but he did not know how the magic was stolen or for what purpose.At this point it was purely conjecture, but would Evienne put helping others above her loyalty to Ichorna?

To truly find answers, he would need someone who had been here in Ichorna to observe, knowingly or not, what may be happening. His longing to confide in her, to trust her, further stoked his suspicions around who she may be to him, no matter how impossible it seemed. He supposed he would never know for certain.

He reigned in his feelings, opting instead to ask, “Would you like to sit with me and read for a while before the garden party this afternoon?”

Evienne’s brows rose in surprise, but she quickly covered the expression with a smile.

“I’d love to. I was planning to see my friend, but it seems she is busy this morning,” she answered, a wicked gleam forming in her eye as she added, “Were you planning to sit here?”

She gestured to the couch they sat on last night as he touched her; it was awash in a warm orange glow from the fire nearby. His arousal washed over him in a wave as she stood there smirking at him, waiting for his response.

“Yes, in fact. Should we call for some tea?” He answered, smiling right back at her. Orion knew he was playing a dangerous game with a dangerous woman, but he was loving every second of it.