I keep reading, unsure how to feel about this new information and constantly asking myself why Mazus would give me these books, as I have every day since I received them. The passage continues, explaining that when the mating bond is accepted by both partners, their magic changes, though the text doesn’t explain exactly how or what this looks like. According to the book, many famous fae mates of the past decided not to accept the bond, worried about the change to their magic. Even the simple fact that the book casually references infamous mated pairs is revolutionary, solidifying my suspicion that mates are more than myth.

My mind wanders to Laurel and the prophecy about her. Realization hits me like a punch in the gut. I practically run down the spiral staircase, through the archives and to the section on Thayaria, looking for an Old Fae version of the prophecy. Finding it in an older book I scanned several days ago and deemed useless, I take it and hurry back to Genevieve’s office. Panting from the sprint, I compare the Old Fae word that has for centuries been translated as lover to the word used for mate in this text, my mind whirring with possibility. My suspicions are correct—the words are the same.

The last line of the prophecy should read Blood to blood, the Queen and her fated mate will unite what has been torn apart.

Why would Mazus give me this book? Is this even the section he wanted me to read? Does he want me to give Laurel this information? I consider writing a letter to Laurel that makes it appear I haven’t found anything useful, just to throw Mazus off my trail when he inevitably intercepts it. But that could also be what he wants. There’s no good option for how to proceed, and I slam my fists onto the table in frustration. I know that I’m playing a game with Mazus, but only he knows the rules and which pieces are on the board.

Mind ruminating, I pass the rest of the day tediously translating the text, taking copious notes that fill dozens of rolls of parchment. When the light becomes too dark to see, I consider lighting a lamp but then remember the dinner with Genevieve. Despite my eagerness to keep translating, desperate for every morsel of information on mates, I won’t stand her up. I pack up my things, taking extra care with all four books Mazus provided, then stalk down the staircase and through the endless rows that make up the archives until I find Genevieve shelving books from a cart. She notices me and smiles tentatively across the hall at me, though there’s something in her expression that seems off.