Page 17 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

“Is she still up at that house?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Hmph. Taking her time, she is.”

“Most people would want their spouse to live as long as possible,” Pippa pointed out.

“Bah. She is one hundred and three. She’s doing it to spite me. All because I accidentally revealed the end of that novel that one time, before she had quite finished it. Spiteful creature.” His smile practically beamed with love. “She did warn me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brackenberry.” Her moth disentangled itself from her hair to hover above his head. Pippa was not completely convinced it did not think his eyebrows were caterpillars.

“Yes, well. Come turn the pages, young lady. I’ve been waiting all night and no one’s come by. That night guard at the bottom of the stairs is not very agreeable.”

Pippa followed Mr. Brackenberry to a long, narrow table where seven books waited, lined up neatly. She did not tell him that she would not be back as regularly as he was used to. She would rather just enjoy the last taste of her routine. “What are we reading tonight?”

“None of your business, young lady.”

“Quite right.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Vampiric love stories or kraken fated mates?”

He chuckled before he could stop himself, then resumed his fearsome glower. “Certainly not.”

Everyone knew that he preferred the most lurid romances. “That’s a shame. I hear there is a new novel by that Orc writer you are so keen on.”

“You are a horrid child.”

“I am twenty-nine years old.” As of today.

It had been a memorable birthday, she would say that about it.

“A horrid woman, then,” Mr. Brackenberry amended.

“Thank you.”

She waited, tongue firmly pressed to the inside of her cheek. She would miss this game they played. He waited as well. Icicles dripped from his ear horn. He finally huffed out a breath, or what counted as a breath for a ghost. “Well, are you going to fetch it for me, or not?”

“Of course, Mr. Brackenberry. I have it right here for you.”

“Good lass, good lass.”

Once she had set him up to his exacting specifications, opening all of his books and turning to the correct pages and promising to return later to turn them all again, Pippa returned to the restricted section, while she still could. Even though she had already searched this section for the missing Red Grimoire. For a clue of any kind.

Still, she searched one more time.

Nothing.

Except the sound of hooves, the screech of an owl.

It was her only warning that she was no longer alone.

And it came too late. Far too late.

Lachlan Thorn had already found her.

He was another shadow in the shadowy room, closing in on her, silver scar shining. There was a stillness to him, even as he moved toward her. His owl scrabbled at the window behind him, white feathers glowing, talons scratching the glass.

“You made a wish, Pippa Cavendish.” His voice sent a shiver up her spine, both hot and cold. Her bracelet burned. “You ought to know better.”

The sound of hooves grew loud again, as did the flapping of owl wings.