Chapter Fourteen

Iris

 

“What the hell is this?”

Kal’s growl jerked me out of a studious torpor, my neck aching from the same position I’d been in all morning. Looking up, I saw him surveying the room and scowling. My eyes followed his, and I winced. Books had taken over his living room, stacks lined up by the crates and piled on the couches, along with messy piles of notebooks.

I was sitting on the floor, hunched over Orion’s book, dutifully and neatly transcribing my final copy of what I’d translated so far. About three lines, total. It was slow, painstaking work, and I’d probably be done in about twenty years.

But it was satisfying. I swear, it was like that book was happy to see me.

I’d been so engrossed, I hadn’t realized how far the mess had sprawled or thought to clean it up. Then again, Rogda had stopped by and said he probably wouldn’t be up until about three or four. As it was only one, I’d thought I’d had time.

“Hi, Kal,” I said and stood, carefully marking my place. “I’ll clean this in a bit. Probably not the first thing you want to see after a long night, but this is how I work.”

He looked at me and seemed to blink, as though remembering I were there. I took him in, running my eyes over him and checking for any injuries. I couldn’t forget the way he’d crushed my hand in his last night, veins and cords of muscles surging out of his skin. Or how he’d arched up, his body wracked with pain, and the hiss of anguish between his clenched teeth.

“I’ve recovered, nosy,” Kal said and stomped off to the kitchen. “And if that’s how you work, leave it. We need answers more than a neat living room.”

Hopping up, I went over to the table that bisected the living room and kitchen, laying my hands flat on it. The chairs looked as though they hadn’t been touched in ages, and something about that pinched my heart. The few times people had been over, they'd sat on the couches or at the table by the window. No one ever seemed to sit here.

When I looked up, Kal was leaning against the counter, eyes closed and inhaling a cup of coffee. He looked weary, shoulders slumped with the weight of the world. A shiver went up my spine and the sense that I’d trespassed, that I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to.

“Did Xander and Beylore fill you in?” Kal asked, opening his eyes and tilting his head.

I nodded. “They left a note. A long note.”

Beylore had filled almost three pages with instructions on translating—or rather, breaking into—Orion’s notebook. She’d also informed me about the crates that had been left behind and the fact that the Archives in Cobalt and Veda were available to me. She’d also left instructions on keeping the book in a specific metal box under the living room table when it wasn’t in use.

I was about to ask Kal about that when he drained his coffee and put the mug in the sink, then yanked open a nearly-empty cabinet. Inside was one container of what looked like homemade oatmeal bars. He took out five and tossed it back in.

“All right. I’ll be back later.”

“Oh,” I said. From Beylore’s note, it had sounded like Kal was going to help me with the research. Also, from Xander’s postscript, it had sounded like Kal was supposed to be on bed rest.

“Need something?” Kal asked, pausing at the far end of the kitchen and looking back.

“No,” I said hastily.

Who was I, the unwelcome guest and burden, to say anything? Those two labels had been floating in the back of my head for a week and now came forward to jab at me.

Part of me still wanted to demand what he was thinking going out after the excruciating hell he'd been through last night. The same part that was also annoyed.

I didn't even get a thank you, a time he'd be back, or any other acknowledgment of what I was doing?

The door closing behind him was answer enough.

 

“Come again, miss!”

I waved as I exited the small café and stepped onto the main thoroughfare of Cobalt. People strolled up and down the street, chatting and shopping, or stopping for a bite to eat. Overhead, lush, fragrant grass waved from every rooftop. A fairy tale of a town. Huge old trees, their branches filled with colorful leaves that swirled down on the wayward breezes, made it even more magical.

Yet as I sipped at the coffee I was drinking and tugged my scarf closer, my nose filling with the scent of Kal, I felt apart from it all. By now, after three weeks of living in Winfyre, everyone knew me. While I was sure they were all good people and would be equally kind to any newcomer, it seemed that Kal’s reputation had sprinkled a glamour over me.

I hated it. It felt so false and irritating, like a fancy white crown digging into my scalp. One I couldn’t take off. And it came with the lovely added baggage of a man who barely tolerated me.

Several people had sidled up to ask questions about Kal, trying not-so-subtly to pry information from me about the most elusive of the Alphas after Xander. But it seemed like I was learning more from talking with strangers about my so-called mate than from living with him.

For instance, I’d learned that the Alphas used to go by the term Command, and Xander had been the Head Command. That name had fallen out of use as shifters had gotten more comfortable using Rift names, along with their gifts. I also found out that the five of them had been in Winfyre when the Rift had happened. There’d been a lot of upheaval and tragedy in the year that followed, along with a lot of narrow wins by the Northbane. That was where Kal had culled his reputation.

I’d also learned that Kal was devoted to his family, although he didn’t spend a lot of time with them. I hadn’t met any more Deacons yet, as they'd gone to visit the Llarys in Veda. I didn’t know how people even knew that, but either way, it stood out as a bit too conspicuous to the residents, who’d made a point of asking me about it.

Unfortunately for me, Laia and Rett, along with their kids, as well as Tristan and Sierra, had all gone along with them. Reagan had promised to be available, but then her son came down with a bad cold, and she did, too. So, I’d been fending off these questions alone. It had been a crappy week.

However, I had found one point of solace in Winfyre. The Archives.

A massive, beautiful building that looked as though it had been created with magic, and maybe with the Coven’s help, it had; it was apparently the sister of one in Veda. It had skinny, arched windows, three floors of books and documents, and endless, labyrinth-like stacks.

Draining my coffee, I headed there now and greeted the nice front desk folks again.

“Welcome back,” one of them chirped, and I smiled, hoping it wasn’t terrible that this was the second time today I’d been here. “Did you forget something?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, grasping at the opening. I just didn’t want to go back to that empty house. “Or I think I did. Something I need to double-check.”

“Let us know if we can help,” she called as I made my way upstairs.

Inhaling the scent of quiet paper and leather-bound tomes soothed my soul. I’d haunted libraries as a kid. Although that felt like a lifetime ago now. In fact, it was hard to remember them. Only the scents had lingered in my memory.

Pulling out the notebook I was using to document all my notes, I ran my finger under the few things I wanted to check out. Orion had used a code that seemed to vacillate with his mood. Though I could speak four languages, that didn’t necessarily help when trying to decipher his notes.

But what had helped was his obsession with Winfyre. And something he'd written about had been nagging at me all day. I hadn't found anything earlier, but I thought I'd try my luck again.

Picking up a pile of books, trying to smile, I went over to my favorite table and put them down. Flipping through the musty pages, caffeine humming in my veins, I didn’t make much headway into any more leads, yet I felt oddly accomplished when I was done.

It was getting late, though. Nearly four hours had passed, and the moon was high in the sky when I left. Shivering a bit, I checked my watch. Past eight, and it was as dark as midnight.

“You’re not lost, are you, miss?”

I jumped at the voice and whirled around, lifting my books in defense. A tall, fair-haired man with bright blue eyes smiled down at me. In a plain black jacket and heavy boots, he didn’t stick out. Yet something about him seemed incongruous with Winfyre.

“Not many houses that way,” he added.

“I know. I’m not lost,” I said, adjusting my hat and giving him a nervous smile. I wasn’t sure why, but I had no desire to linger and talk to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said cheerfully. “Took me a while to learn the lay of the land. Nordrem is a much easier settlement to get around in.”

An icy flood of adrenaline hit my veins and locked up my muscles. I couldn’t quite keep the look of shock off my face as the man smiled more widely and a hell of a lot more coldly.

“You’ve heard of it?” he asked politely but with a knowing gleam in his eye.

“Yes,” I murmured. Nordrem was the biggest settlement of the Greyclaw. It was where I’d lived. Seeing no point in pretending otherwise, I smiled at him and inclined my head. “I’m Iris Lisay.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said. “Gordon Versk.” He stepped closer, and I stepped back, hugging my books. “Now, Ms. Lisay, we’re old neighbors. No need to be alarmed.”

“I really need to be getting home.”

“To your mate?” Versk asked. “How is Kallen these days?”

“Fine,” I said shortly, and his smile sharpened.

“Trouble during the honeymoon phase doesn’t bode well for the marriage,” he said. “Unless…” He dangled that out there, but I didn’t respond. “Well, if there’s something you need to tell us or something you need help with—you can be certain your old friends will be there for you. After all, we did house you for many, many years.”

“I know,” I said in a brittle voice. “And I wonder, if Kal hadn’t saved my life, would you have even known I was in trouble?” Versk went to speak, and I held up my hand. “I am grateful to the Greyclaw, but I don’t appreciate these implications. Nor do I think you should be acting like this in another territory. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course,” he said. “I meant no offense.” As I walked away, Versk called out after me, “I’d take care in what you tell Deacon, darling. I’ve heard he’s got a bad temper.”

I turned to give him a piece of my mind, but he was gone.

Frowning, I made my way home, checking over my shoulder at every step. Had the Greyclaw really sent in spies to check on my well-being? Or the veracity of my story? Were they watching the house? Did they know Kal hadn’t been home much?

Unease and discomfort snarled together in my stomach. I walked even faster and was panting by the time I made it up the hills to Kal’s house. Not until I got inside did I register that there were lights on in the kitchen and that something smelled pretty damn delicious.

“That you, blondie?” Kal asked, and a surge of relief went through me. Hastily, I got my boots off and walked around the corner. He was stretched out on the couch, nursing a beer and wearing loose, comfortable clothes for once. “I made dinner. Been out visiting?”

“No,” I said and set down the books on a crate. “Archives.”

“Hmm,” he said and cracked open an eye, then blinked both open. Sitting up, he stared at me. “Why’re you still in your coat? And is that my scarf?”

“Oh, yes,” I said and tugged it off. “I hope that’s okay.”

Kal yawned. “It’s fine. Christ, I’m exhausted. Wanted to make sure you got home okay.” I stopped shrugging out of my coat and stared at him. Kal stood up and stretched, his big muscles rippling and his shirt riding up, showing off that solid eight-pack. “We’ll have to have dinner another time. Didn’t realize you were staying out so late.” A pause. “Night.”

A wordless, agonized huff of air escaped me and kindled a spark of anger. He’d made dinner and was aggrieved I wasn’t around, when I hadn’t seen him in days? I couldn’t even string two words together as he passed me and headed upstairs.

Not until I heard a distant door close did I recall Versk.

Holding my jacket in one hand and Kal’s scarf in the other, I resisted the urge to throw both of them straight into the fire. Instead, I took a deep breath and faced facts. Besides the “fluke” of Kal’s saving me, I was pretty much in the same position I’d always been.

Relying on myself and doing the best I could.

A knot formed in my throat as I hung up the items of clothing mechanically and went into the kitchen. There wasn’t even a dish out, only a platter of covered food and plates in the sink. Hunger clawed at my stomach, but I shut off the lights and went into the living room. As tired as I was, I needed the distraction.

For now, I wouldn’t say anything about Versk. Once I got this stupid book translated, I could leave, right? Head back to Nordrem and make everyone happy.

I’d focus on getting as far away from Kal as possible and never making the mistake again of thinking anyone besides myself had my back.