Quickly, he whittled the hunk of wood, kneeling at the head of the bed periodically to measure the fit of the piece in a niche beneath. With rapid hands, he carved until the wood fit in the corner, behind the support for one of the bed legs. He placed the book inside and affixed it to the bottom of the bed, beside the post nearest his head. As Marrok held her hand again, Olivia managed to conjure a lock and enclosed it with a spell. If she genuinely wished to help him, that should adequately hide the blasted book. If not…He stifled the thought. She had helped him. Mayhap he should try to put the past behind him and judge Olivia on her actions, not her family.

Satisfied for now, Marrok switched his morning clothes for a T-shirt, jog pants and trainers. Now he was ready to teach the wizards to fight like men.

Within a few hours, Olivia had finished reading the book of simple spells, she’d practiced conjuring a bit more, and also managed to move a picture frame, turn on a faucet, and close a door, all with her mind. She was miserable at teleporting, so far, not moving even an inch. She tried not to be impatient; magic wouldn’t come overnight. But she wanted it to.

In a way, being magical was a relief. All her life, everyone—even her own mother—had treated her as if she were different. Turns out, she was. Now that she knew how and why, it was almost cool. Except Marrok loathed magic.

She had so many questions, especially about her heritage.

Restless, Olivia wandered downstairs. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, beyond Marrok shutting her out of Bram’s study. The fact her father had once been Mathias’s right-hand man definitely ate at her. And her mate was clearly determined to dislike her father, based on his past alone. She didn’t blame him exactly. The possibility that she might have uprooted her life to find a man capable of terrible crimes was almost too much to bear. Had his actions left scars on his soul? Likely, or he would never have ultimately chosen the right path. Didn’t everyone deserve a second chance? Yes…but Marrok had a point. She should check out all the details. And while she was at it, maybe she could find out something more about Marrok’s curse and the diary.

In the grand entry hall, she stood and looked around at the gorgeous, expansive house. Surely a place like this had a library.

“Second door on your right,” Sabelle provided helpfully from behind.

With a start, Olivia turned to face her. “How did you know—? Oh…” The truth hit her. “I thought too loud, didn’t I?”

Sabelle sent her a kind smile. “Masking your thoughts takes some getting used to. I try to keep a song in my head if I become upset in public. A very mundane one. People tune you out very quickly if you’re mentally singing the alphabet. Off-key works even faster.”

Olivia laughed at her hostess’s mischievous streak. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The witch crossed the floor and offered, “Want help with the library? I don’t have to bother with dinner for a bit, and the family collection of books is a bit imposing.”

“Sure.”

Together, the two women made their way to the open door. Once Olivia peeked inside, her jaw dropped. “Holy cow! You weren’t kidding.”

“My brother sometimes seems a bit of a cavalier playboy, but he’s actually read nearly every book here and brings new ones home all the time.”

Wow, Bram a hardcore reader? “How many books are in here?”

“I stopped counting after eight thousand.”

And why not? There had to be double that and then some. How was she ever going to find what she wanted? Uneasiness and a ticking clock in her head told her that she needed to start right away.

“Don’t panic. What do you need to find?”

Damn, Sabelle was reading her thoughts again. She started humming one of her favorite songs in her head, then wondered if it would really mask her curiosities about her father’s past, Marrok’s curse, and the diary itself.

“Not yet,” Sabelle supplied. “Your thoughts were harder to hear this time. Keep practicing. Which subject do you wish to learn about first? I can probably help you quickly with the diary. Bram has already set aside some books he intends to read soon.”

Despite the woman’s nosiness—and breathtaking beauty—Olivia liked Sabelle. She was friendly, smart, funny, and seemed genuinely nice. Easy to talk to. Olivia didn’t have many friends, so this was nice.

“That would be great.”

Sabelle crossed the room to retrieve a stack of books on an enormous table. “Curses…You want to know about Marrok’s?”

“If we get this diary open, how do we end it?”

“I’m not certain.” Sabelle plopped the books on the sofa between them. “Let’s read.”

The pair skimmed books for a good hour. Olivia was about to sigh in frustration until she found something that made her eyes pop. “Here! Here’s an account of someone who saw Morganna use the diary. She wrote in it. Which fits. Marrok talked about her writing a curse in it. This also says she could uncurse someone with a stroke of her pen.”

“Great. But she’s not here.”

“Yeah.” Olivia sighed. “That’s a problem. Unless…maybe I could do it?”

“You’re a le Fay. Perhaps so.”

Olivia read a bit further, hoping to find more information. “This says that she often set the curse with conditions, so it would be broken once her terms were met. Marrok’s is that way. He told me that his curse has an out-clause. But he has no idea what it is.”

A few minutes later, Sabelle spoke up. “A man Morganna once cursed with the diary tried to steal it. He swore it dissolved in his hands and materialized back in Morganna’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“Some objects cannot be stolen.”

“But Marrok told me that he had one of Morganna’s serving maids steal it for him.”

“Really? Morganna was known for liking men as bed partners, and disliking them in all other ways. Perhaps she blocked the book from belonging to men or performing magic for men.”

Olivia gasped. “One of my professors called it an object of feminine reverence. Do you think that’s what it means?”

“It’s possible.”

“Until we can get it open, we can’t test the theory that it responds only to women.”

“True, but if Mathias has reached the same conclusion, it explains why he wants to capture you, along with the book, so badly. You’re female and Morganna’s descendant, which would likely make the book more potent.”

That scared the hell out of her. The attack at Marrok’s just proved that Mathias was going to great lengths to get what he wanted. “But maybe any woman would do.”

“It’s possible, but from what we’ve read, no other woman has ever tested it. You’re the most likely to be able to use the book. Mathias knows that.”

That was bad. Worse was wondering if the psycho could coerce her father into winning her trust. Or if he already had. “If Mathias can make humans into Anarki, can he mind-control a wizard, too?”

“He can’t control anyone without taking their soul. You could tell if that were the case by looking at him.”

“Because they’ll look like the soulless humans, all rotting and stuff?”

“Exactly. Wizard or human alike, when you remove the soul from the body, they start dying from the inside out.”

Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. But that still didn’t mean Richard wasn’t being coerced in nonmagical ways.

She needed to find something that would tell her exactly what kind of man her father was.

“What is his name?”

“My father? Richard Gray. He’s played a role in history, but I don’t understand it all. Do you have a book that might explain what happened?”

“Absolutely. He helped bring down Mathias, right? I wasn’t alive then, but I think I remember your father’s name from school.”

“Is he remembered as a hero?” She held her breath.

“To most, I believe. He’s definitely been written that way. I’ll show you.”

Sabelle led her across the room to a musty corner, then pulled a few books free. “These were written after Mathias’s exile and contain information on how it happened.”

Olivia took them greedily, sank back to the buttery leather sofa. Within a few minutes, she slapped the book closed with a smile and picked up another. Then another. Each time, her grin got wider.

“Well?” Sabelle finally asked. “Great rendition of ‘Old MacDonald’, by the way.”

“Thank you. You didn’t hear my thoughts?”

“Snippets only. You sounded pleased.”

Nodding, she rose. “This book, like the others, said that when Mathias began abducting the children of Council members, my father secretly contacted their parents and promised the children’s safety. The previous Brethren were gunning for Mathias, and my father gave them the location of Mathias’s hideaway, led them past the magical protections, pretending he had captured them. Then, together, the Brethren and my father ambushed Mathias and exiled him. The Brethren cheered him, the parents revered him, and the wizards of the Anarki began to hunt him. But many of the new friends he’d made concealed him, some for years. According to these sources, he came to the party late, but he was a hero.”

If these accounts of his life were true, then she understood his absence during her childhood and could be at peace with the fact he hadn’t wanted to bring death to her door.

But if magickind was anything like mankind, history was always written by the victors. “Is there anything else about him? Anything…not so flattering?”

“Yes, but most of it was written by Anarki-sympathizing trash grumbling that your father had cost them their leader. The versions you’ve read is what they taught in school.”

So now she had the truth, and she was ready to help him. Maybe that would help Marrok, too.

But what would happen to him when his curse ended?

“What do you mean?” Sabelle asked, reading Olivia’s question.

“He’s been immortal. If that’s no longer true, will he…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, to even think about Marrok dying.

“I don’t know. Usually mate-bonds are stronger, since mating is the most powerful magic of all. But then, I’ve never seen a curse as potent as Morganna’s.”

Which meant Marrok may or may not survive the end of his curse. Even if he did, he wanted to die anyway. The pain that shafted her at the thought told her how dangerously close she was to loving him.

Olivia wanted to call her father, talk to him, try to figure out whose side he was really on, see what he knew about Marrok’s curse. A restless urgency to hear his voice swelled inside her.

“May I use your phone?”

Sabelle snapped her fingers and produced one a moment later, then handed it to Olivia.

Richard answered on the third ring, sounding winded. “Who is this?”

Dad? Richard? “It’s me, Olivia. Are you all right?”

“I’ve been running from the Anarki since leaving your cottage. They were awaiting me when I returned.”

Olivia’s heart stopped. “But you got away?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

He hesitated. “No worries. I’ll find a place.”

Biting her lip, Olivia turned to Sabelle. “My father needs help. I have to go to him.”

“I heard him—with my ears. You can’t go. It’s too dangerous.”

Going out alone was like a neon sign to Mathias to abduct her. And if her father was being coerced or did have any lingering allegiance to the creep, she was playing into his hands.

“Now what? He needs help—”

“Invite your father here. I’ll let him past our protections for the day. He can hide for a bit and hopefully dodge the Anarki.”

She squeezed Sabelle’s hand. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I can hear it. You forgot to sing.”

Within minutes of commencing training, Marrok was worried as hell. The wizards were terrible. Their fisticuff skills were deplorable, their sword fighting laughable. Firearms…he was afraid to try. No telling what—or who—they would shoot. Clearly, anything as complex as martial arts, much less explosives or modified weaponry, would have to wait. But as Marrok doffed his sweaty shirt and the surprisingly strong November sun beat down on his back, he found himself surrounded by men sworn to become great fighters, and felt a certain kinship.

He had enjoyed moments of brotherhood with Arthur and his army. In some ways, Bram reminded him of Arthur: shrewd, fair…deceitful when it suited him. Marrok suspected Bram had a grand plan beyond their alliance that he kept secret, but that had often been Arthur’s way. Marrok hated to admit it, but his opinion of Bram had increased today. The spoiled, attention-seeking coxcomb had become a leader.