Chapter 26

Quentin satin the king’s private lounge room with a glass of brandy in his hand. He’d never drank brandy, and he wasn’t sure he liked the taste or the way it burned, even though it was over one hundred years old, but he took another sip because he didn’t know how to tell the king that brandy wasn’t his thing.

The king sat on the sofa opposite him, holding his second drink while staring at him. Quentin was trying hard not to accidentally read any of the king’s thoughts, but it was so tempting to take a taste.

There was a bodyguard in the room and another on the other side of the door. All three had met him at yet another entrance to the castle, and he’d been directed to this room and given a drink. Food had been brought and set on the coffee table, and while the king had eaten a little, Quentin hadn’t.

Were they not talking because of the class difference or because there was nothing to say in front of the bodyguard?

The king put his glass on the table and gave a small nod as if deciding something. “So you are the language expert.”

“Um…yes…Your Majesty.”

“With all this excitement, you haven’t been shown the library.”

Quentin sat up a little straighter. “That’s correct.”

“Well, I may not be an official archivist, but I know where the library is. And where the archives are. Perhaps I can interest you in a tour of that section.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” He didn’t want to be any trouble. That he was being babysat by the king and his security detail was imposition enough, not that the king seemed to mind as they were both waiting for someone.

“I could do with the distraction.” The king stood.

Quentin followed him, and the two guards followed them both. After a couple of minutes and several stairs and corridors, he finally found the words to say something. “Are you always followed like this…Your Majesty?”

He kept forgetting to add the honorific. Hopefully, that wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“No.” The king pushed open a rather nondescript door. “The main library. The oldest texts are to the left. The very old texts are in the archive.” The king started toward the older books.

One guard remained at the door. The other walked a lap heading in the other direction. Then they were alone.

“How long have you been his mate?” The king’s words were soft.

“A week, Your Majesty.” It felt like longer. Like his life before magic had been lived by someone else.

“You don’t need to keep saying it. We’re in private and having a conversation. It would be like me calling you Mr. Silverbrook all the time.”

“I didn’t know.” He bit his tongue to keep from tacking on the honorific again.

“I suspect there is a lot you don’t know.”

Kaine had called the king and asked him to watch over his mate. He had heard the king’s shock, but there had never been a moment of doubt or refusal.

“I suspect I know rather too much at this point.”

The king made a small, wounded noise. “When Kaine returns, we will discuss that situation. Until then, we will distract ourselves by finding you something rare and strange to study. How do you feel about pre-Roman texts?”

“Pre-Roman?”

“We have a book made of lead sheets. We have no idea what it says, but the gold on the front indicates it is important.”

“And the lead that it was made to last.”

“Exactly. So perhaps that is a place to start.”

“Do you have other things written in the same scripts or translations?” Because if it wasn’t written in something another academic had worked on, it was going to be difficult, especially as he didn’t even know what it was about.

“I don’t know…Olier was our historian. He was the one who wanted to keep records of the past. If he worked on any translations, they would be in the archives.”

“Do you keep the same names?”

The king paused and looked at him. “He really hasn’t explained much.”

There hasn’t been time. “I was kind of busy learning how to use my magic…there isn’t a witch who can magically read some of these?” That would be a very cool magic to have. It also meant he’d spent three years at university learning something that could be done with magic.

The king shook his head. “Not that I have ever heard of. I could invite a psychometric witch to see what he can sense from the books, but given how many people have touched them over the years, sifting back through centuries will be dangerous.”

Quentin’s lips parted as he thought of all the doors. All the lives in Everest’s head. “It would take forever to sift through them.”

“Exactly.” The king studied him for several heartbeats. “Too much past can be a burden…but there are some of us who long to know everything until perhaps they learn too much.”

They weren’t talking about books, or libraries, or magic anymore. They were talking about Everest.

Quentin licked his lower lip and took a chance. “I think there may be answers in the more personal recollections.” He glanced at the bodyguard, who was walking closer as he made his lap. “Though Kaine said you don’t read each other’s diaries.”

“You are correct. When the others return, I suspect the conversation will be long and unpleasant.” The king paused at a set of shelves with a glass front.

“I’m sorry.”

“It is a talk that has been a long time coming. Though it is only now we have the pieces to understand. I do not think it is an accident that a finder and a mind reader have found their way within our walls. Though I am curious to know if this is your first time crossing paths with Kaine.”

“He said he didn’t know me and that there was no soul bruise.”

The king laughed. “I suspect Kaine has few of them. He has always been careful. He prefers theory to practice, and he hates loose ends wrapping around his throat.”

“Can I ask something?”

“You have been, so why are you having doubts now?”

Because it was weird, and he was trying to piece things together from snippets. “You live many times, but that’s because of what you are. But then for me to have crossed paths…that means I have also lived before. Does everyone?”

The king shrugged and stared at the books behind the glass. “We don’t know everything. We tend to recognize people. A push or a pull toward them if we have known them in the past. It appears a witch’s magic is tied to their soul, as Dalmon and Lucian have been fated mates before. We think all paranormals have many lives and that it is to do with magic. How that works for other shifters, I do not know, but I am sure this is not the first time I have run across Malcolm.”

“And you don’t question it?”

“I question when and where and what happened, but not the rest.”

“So only two of you have fated mates?”

“It is rare, and usually same-sex couples.”

“Someone really needs to write a book, ‘you’ve found your fated mate…now what?’”

The king smiled at him. “Perhaps someone does.”

“So does that mean that all the other fated mates have also been mates before, but they don’t know because they don’t have diaries?”

“Possibly…most likely. Even humans have theories that when people reincarnate, it’s with those from previous lives.”

“Except humans don’t?”

“I do not know for sure, but I would guess not because they don’t have magic. Do you want to examine the book?”

“As in, hold it? I don’t have gloves.” What if it is cursed?

The king opened a drawer and handed him a pair of white gloves before pulling a pair on himself. From the same drawer, he pulled out a key and unlocked the glass door.

Even the dust smelled old.

The king lifted the lead book out and offered it to him—the king wasn’t worried that it was cursed. Or that Quentin would drop it.

“Um…can I turn the page?”

“You want me to be the book stand?”

Quentin glanced up at him, knowing he’d overstepped. “I didn’t mean it like that, Your Majesty.”

Had he gotten too casual?

“I’m joking. Of course you can turn the page. I’d be delighted if you said you recognized the letters and could translate it in a few weeks.”

Quentin felt his eyebrow lift. “There are experts, not students like me, who would kill each other in the stampede to be the first to study your old texts.”

“I cannot allow humans in as there may be mentions of witches and shifters. It may be our lore. That has been our problem for centuries…and now you appear on this cusp of change.”

No one had ever called him a solution, only a problem.

He carefully turned the page. The edges were soft, and bits had broken off over the centuries, but the words that had been engraved were still legible.

“It’s written in Greek letters, and I have studied enough Ancient Greek to be sure it’s not written in that language. It’s probably Gaulish. I can check a reference, as there are some, not many.” And if it was Gaulish because there had been other translations done, he’d have a bit of a head start. If it was something older…

He looked up at the king and was willing to bet it was something older, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t related to Gaulish or some other language that also used the same alphabet. “Do you have something in the same language that isn’t so precious?”

“I don’t know. That is a question for Dalmon or Kaine, or you can look around here. This is the oldest section.”

“The oldest section on display.” There would be so much more in their diaries, not that he wanted to read their diaries, mostly because they had written them, not some long-dead person who didn’t care that people were reading their innermost thoughts three centuries later.

“I will arrange archive access.” The king put the lead book back into the cabinet and relocked it. The gloves he dropped into a basket at the side. No doubt someone would come along and wash them and return them. “The other, more private section will need to be discussed. Until then, you may return here whenever you like, and the kingdom will be most grateful for your assistance in this matter. Though you may not publish your work. Not without it being vetted first.” The king gave him a look that suggested publishing anything without permission would be a career-ending move and that even being Kaine’s mate wouldn’t save his ass.

He’d have the job of his dreams but no recognition. No one, besides the phoenixes, would ever see his work.

It wasn’t a hard decision to make. “Of course I want to assist.”

“Whatever you need, just ask.”

What he wanted was Kaine.

But not even the king could grant him that, so he settled for something much simpler to kill some more time for both of them. “Perhaps you might like to show me some of your favorite parts of the castle?”

The king smiled. “We can fill the hours that way. Shall we start with the most recent and go backwards, or would you prefer to start in the past and come forward?”