“Sentient, then.” Armand's eyes gleamed with scholarly interest. “Even more extraordinary. We will allow it to acclimate. May I examine it while you hold it?”
She nodded, turning the book so he could see. Armand stood and moved closer, careful not to touch the book itself, his gaze fixed on the ancient text.
He was silent for a long moment, his expression growing more intense with each page she turned at his gentle prompting.
“The binding is thirteenth or fourteenth century,” he said finally. “though the text itself is older. Much older.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “Ms. Brennan, where did your mother get this?”
“I don't know.” Muriel's throat tightened. “I didn’t even know it existed until a few weeks ago. It was hidden in a secret chamber beneath our greenhouse.”
“Have you shown this to anyone else?” Gone was the scholarly excitement in Armand’s voice, replaced by something graver.
“Yes. Brandon,” she said with a glance his way. “He’s the one who told me there might be people anxious to get their hands on it.”
“He’s not wrong,” Armand murmured. He looked at Brandon. “Anyone in particular?”
“The Collectors,” Brandon answered.
Armand’s reaction was immediate and alarming. His expression went cold, his eyes hardening to black ice. “The Collectors are after you? They know who you are? That you have this?”
“I think so. One of them showed up at my house the day after I found it. Brandon believes they might be tracking me through magical surges.”
Armand looked at Brandon, who nodded confirmation.
“Please, tell me everything.”
Muriel glanced at Brandon, who nodded encouragingly. She took a breath. “I fell asleep reading one night and woke up to feel my mother’s presence urging me to the greenhouse. I found a glamor that concealed an underground chamber. That’s where I discovered the book. When I opened it, there was an explosion of power. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was like I was in the eye of a tornado. Everything else disappeared, and I was surrounded by…” She hesitated.
“By what?” Armand prompted gently.
“Visions,” she whispered. “Visions of women who looked like me, performing rituals, passing the book from mother to daughter. Visions of evil men huntingwitches through the forest, draining them of their magic.”
Brandon’s magic swelled within her, offering warmth and comfort. It was like being hugged from the inside. She shot him a grateful glance, but he was looking elsewhere.
Armand was quiet for a moment. “Have you experienced any visions since?”
“No. The book’s been quiet. But my power seems to be increasing, and the surges are getting worse. That's why I came to Brandon for help. He suggested a binding.”
“A resonance binding,” Brandon clarified.
Something flickered across Armand's face as he looked between them—surprise? concern?—but it vanished before Muriel could identify it.
“This is quite a rare find. I would very much like to study it more closely,” Armand said, his attention returning to the book. “With your permission, of course. The language is ancient—older than Latin, older than any living tongue. But I recognize some of the symbols. If I'm right about what this is...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“What do you think it is?” Muriel asked.
“I have suspicions, but I need more time to confirm them. Would you be willing to remain here for a few hours while I examine it? You could visit with Ana and Ryssa—I'm sure they'd be delighted to see you again.”
The book pulsed warm agreement in her hands.Apparently, it had vetted Armand and approved of him studying it—as long as she stayed close.
“I... yes. I'd like that.”
Armand smiled. “Excellent. Let me show you to the sitting room, and I'll have someone let Ana and Ryssa know you're here. Brandon, I wonder if you’d mind remaining here with me while the ladies visit?”
“As long as it’s okay with Muriel,” Brandon said.
Muriel nodded. “Of course.”
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