I left him there, evanescing back to the castle to search his mother’s rooms. Tadhg probably wouldn’t be impressed with me being here, but from the dust covering every square inch, I was fairly certain he’d never find out. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be a swollen, snivelling mess by the time I left. Thankfully, it only took two minutes and a handful of sneezes before I located the book inside his mother’s bedside locker.
I evanesced down to the study before my eyes could swell, lit the candles with magic, and sank onto the chair behind the desk.
Flicking through the pages drummed up memories of cherries. When my aunt would tell Tadhg that she loved him, the air would taste as sweet and tart as a ripe red cherry.
I remembered going home and telling the Queen that I loved her. She’d repeated the words back to me as any dutiful mother should, and yet the lie had tasted like ash.
I shook away the thought, focusing on the task at hand. In the center of the book, I found what I’d been searching for: a dog-eared page more worn than all the others.
Her lips are made of fire.
Her touch is made of flame.
I’ve never even met her
And yet I know her name.
She burns me from the inside out.
Still, I need her all the same.
She is the other half of me
My life, my love, my flame.
Because of a fortune I’d been told long ago, I’d wasted years researching “soulmates.” From ancient lore to fairy tales in children’s books, all of them said the same shite: your soulmate was your perfect match, your other half, the one you were destined to be with.
My life, my love, myflame.
I’d completely forgotten about this book because it hadn’t been relevant. Until now. Could Aveen be the one I’d been “destined” to meet? No. Maybe?No. But if she was . . .
What was I thinking? It couldn’t be her. Surely fate wouldn’t curse me with a human soulmate. What hope would Aveen have of surviving what was to come? The woman was weak. Powerless.I needed someone strong. Someone who could defeat the Queen and save me. Another witch, or at the very least, a fae. Not a feckin’ human.
I dragged my thumb across the poem’s first line.
Her lips are made of fire.
I closed the book and shifted it into my room for safekeeping.
There was one way to know for certain.
I just needed to convince Aveen to kiss me.
* * *
According to some drunks at a pub in Graystones, Lord Michael Bannon owned the old O’Shaughnessy place on the coast.
I evanesced to the far side of a pine forest, where a long drive connected with the road. The stone manor hadn’t changed much since the last time I was here, although there was a lot more red ivy climbing the walls, and the dark pitched roof had a few shingles missing.
From what I remembered, the family’s quarters were located around the back. I crossed through the barren garden, stumbling upon a horse tied near the fountain. It didn’t look like the one Aveen had ridden earlier. Why had someone tied the thing back here instead of leaving it in the stables?
The moment I rounded the untrimmed laurel hedges, I had my answer.
A man clung to the trellis at a back window. Aveen waited in the room above, her curls unbound and a little disheveled.
Aveen had a lover.
The realization felt like being punched by Ruairi all over again.