This book is the closest I’ve come to a primary source, detailing the traditions, customs, and stories of the fae at the time it was written. I have no idea how old it is, though it must be ancient to discuss mates as if they exist. I slowly comb my way through a history of prominent mated pairs, unsure if the names are significant. Feeling like this is unproductive, I skip ahead through the six pages of recorded names. If there are this many recorded names, mates cannot have only ever been myth. But why they’ve disappeared from our world is still a mystery. The old fae character for Thayaria catches my attention, and I stop to translate the passage that mentions my kingdom.

I double and then triple check my work, heart racing. According to the passage, Thayarian rulers once frequently found themselves with a Velmaran mate. Specifically, with a powerful light channeler, from the Andomer line, as a mate. The pieces are slowly coming together, and they paint a troubling picture.

Laurel and Prince Hawthorne must be mates. And while that would normally bring me joy at the thought of my best friend—my sister—finding the great love she’s always been promised, the fact that Mazus gave me these books means he must also know. He intentionally sent the Prince there for them to discover their connection, though for what end, I cannot say. And while the stories about Prince Hawthorne paint him as a powerful but unintelligent flirt, what if he knows and is working with Mazus? He’s the son of the Golden King, after all.

Laurel is in danger. That thought echoes nonstop through my mind as I continue my frantic translation. I don’t know how much time passes, only that I must keep going, for Laurel’s sake. I startle out of my research haze when Genevieve approaches my workstation.

“Nemesia,” she says, eyes smiling. “You’ve surely lost track of time. I haven’t seen you take a break all afternoon.”

The fact that she’s been observing me doesn’t go unnoticed, but I’m too frazzled by my discoveries to comment on it. I consider canceling our dinner plans in order to continue the research but decide against it when I see the excitement written so clearly across her features. It physically pains me to leave the research behind, but Genevieve has become a priority for me. She’s had so few give her any attention or care her entire life. I won’t break her heart.