30. Katar

"Ms. Everhard," the detective snarled. "You are definitely under arrest."

"I'm not allowing that to happen," I said, stalking past him and stopping beside the book, peering down at it.

"But . . ." Bailey's hands fluttered at her throat. "I didn't steal it. It wasn't here this morning. Right, Katar? You were here last night—"

"He was?" The detective grumbled and shook his head in disgust. "Fraternizing with the suspects, are you, Mr. Dolkin? I wonder what the king of the orcs would think of that, king's nephew."

"I wonder what the king would think about you arresting a woman who isn't guilty of stealing the book," I said.

"It's right there in plain view." When the detective pulled handcuffs from his back pocket and held them up, I snatched them out of his hands.

"I told you no one's cuffing Bailey except me."

"She needs to be arrested," he fumed. "The book is right here, in her possession. She stole it. We've found it and the case is wrapping up just like that." Detective Carter lifted the book. "I've seen numerous photos of this lovely text, and I'm grateful we've located it, and it appears unharmed. I'll notify the king that we've not only recovered his precious artifact but that we've revealed who stole it and will make sure she sees justice."

Bailey moaned, sinking into a chair and holding her face in her palms.

I wanted to go to her and hold her, to tell her everything would be alright, but I had to deal with this ass first.

"You two are having some sort of illicit relationship, and I'm sure you'll do anything to protect her, but there's no way you can brush this aside." Detective Carter actually stomped his boot on the floor.

I did the same, and he paused, staring at my boot.

"Frankly, Ms. Everhard, I'm gravely disappointed," he said, turning to my mate and approaching her. Because he was speaking gently and walking softly, I watched. If he touched her, I'd wrench him away and fling him against the wall. "To think you came highly recommended by the board. Ms. Merryweather spoke so well of you before she died. You were the obvious choice for the job." He stooped down in front of her, removing her hands from her face and placing them on her thighs.

I growled and stomped toward them to rip his arms off for touching her.

"Confess. Tell us why you took it, and we'll go easy on you. A year, maybe two in jail at the most, and you'll be free to go on with your life."

"I didn't steal the book!" She burst into tears and leaped past him, rushing over to stand in front of me. "You know I didn't do it. You were with me this morning. The book wasn't here, and you knew where I was at all times today. There was no time when I could've returned home and placed the book there. Though why I'd steal it and leave it in plain view is beyond me."

"People do stupid things." Pure slime came through in the detective's voice as he joined us. It was all I could do not to wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze.

My uncle would not approve of those methods. We had a treaty. These were the only reasons I held myself in check.

"You're a librarian," the detective said in a lulling voice. "I get it. Sometimes, people do bad things and often, they're not even sure why they did it. Impulse, maybe? You need money, I'm sure." He looked around her house as if assessing the worth of each item. "I imagine you had someone lined up to buy the book. If the traffic mishap hadn't happened, the book would probably already be on its way to its new home with none of us aware." His gaze met mine. "I'm sure you felt you had no choice. Do you need the money badly? Drugs maybe? Online gambling?"

"None of this is true." Bailey sent me a pleading look that made me want to sweep her up and take her to a place where no one could ever hurt her again. She didn't deserve this. She'd done no wrong.

"There's only one problem here," I said, tugging her against my side. My mate trembled, and I wanted to rip through this world and destroy it, starting with one particular detective. "Well, many problems actually, but we'll focus on one. This isn't the real book." I tossed it back onto the table.

Both Bailey and the detective gasped.

The detective lifted it and scrolled through the pages. "I assure you it is."

"And I assure you, that I, an expert on orc paper production, am confident that this," I poked the book, "is," I gouged it again, "not the real book."

"Of course it is," the detective blustered. "Look, I know you two are . . . mixed up in this together for whatever reason—"

"I love her." I said it softly, but the words were full of heart.

She gazed up at me with so much adoration in her eyes, I wanted to carry her to the bedroom and show her—with or without handcuffs. "I love you too, Katar."

"Mate." I turned her in my arms and cupped her face gently, giving her a kiss that contained a promise.

The detective grunted. "All this is beside the point. You can't prove this isn't the real book."

"I can," I said, giving the love of my life a grin. "The book you're holding may look like the real thing, but the paper didn't come from a frostmire tree."

"What's a frostmire tree?" he asked, frowning.

"Frostmire trees have a bluish tinge to the pulp that can be seen in the paper. Since the trees are nearly extinct, no one has used the trees for paper production for many generations. But long ago, it was considered the best tree to use for books of vital importance, which the ancient manuscript is." It was one of the oldest books in the orc collection and its theft had struck the very heart of orc culture. We had to find it, but this was not the original.

I took the book from him and sent Bailey a reassuring smile. We had to talk, figure out where we were going from here, because we were going to be together forever. There was no other future in store for us.

Flipping through the pages, I found one that had been torn and turned the book toward the detective, pointing at the side of the tear. "See right there? Not a hint of blue. Whoever made this forgery did an amazing job. If I didn't know about the special qualities of frostmire, I'd be convinced myself this was the real book. But it isn't." I tossed it onto the table once more.

"Someone made a fake and planted it here to implicate me." Bailey shuddered and sunk onto the sofa. "Who would do such a thing?"

"You do realize I'll be verifying this frostmire theory," the detective said. "I'm not taking your word for it."

"Go ahead." I sat with her and tugged her onto my lap, holding her while she trembled. "We'll wait here for you to do the research you should've done already, then return to give Ms. Everhard an apology."

"I advise you not to leave town, Ms. Everhard," Detective Carter said, scowling. "I'm not convinced of anything yet except that this appears to be the original manuscript."

I huffed. "The king would be horribly insulted if you sent that to him and insisted it was real. And believe me, you don't want to insult my uncle. He has a way of . . . ruining someone if they make such a grave mistake."

"Are you suggesting the king would make threats on my person?" He tugged on his jacket.

"I'd never say any such thing. But we have a treaty that outlines protocols for situations like this, although I doubt ancient texts and fakes are mentioned. I guess they should be."

"I reiterate once more. Do not leave town," the detective barked. He strode to the door and swung it open. "I'll return promptly as soon as I've verified what this orc has said." With that, he stomped outside and banged the door shut behind him.

Bailey slumped in my arms before she burst to her feet, looking around frantically. "Mozzie. Mozzie! Where are you, pup?"