Of Blood & Secrets (Forsaken by the Gods Book 2) by T. B. Wiese

Author:T. B. Wiese [Wiese, T. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T. B. Wiese
Published: 2023-07-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

KEIR

Thaeia is distracting. The clothes I brought her hug her curves. She shifts in the chair next to me, leaning over the table to read what must be an engrossing paragraph in the book before her. But her movement brings her scent to my nose—vanilla and sea salt. I curl my fingers around my book, trying to ward off the sudden urge to lick her. Usually, it’s the words on a page that pull my attention away from the world, but even books can’t compete with the woman sitting next to me. And it’s not just physical. She gets lost in a book as easily as I do. She cares for her friends, seems to have a fierce loyalty, and despite everything, is quick to laugh. Gods, her laugh. How can a sound send my heart racing and at the same time bring me such peace?

Focus, Keir.

Earlier, when I showed her the old book I found, she tentatively took it from my hands, squeezing it closed. She seemed almost … scared. I didn’t understand why until she pulled out a chair and sank into it. Joining her at the table, I’d asked what was bothering her, and with a deep breath, she told me her story.

Nor took the chair on the other side of Thaeia while Halee sat across from us. I got the feeling Nor knew this tale already, but the little gasps from Halee told me this was her first time hearing about Thaeia’s past. Or I should say, the shadowy secrets of her past.

For a moment, I got hung up on Saph/Rhenara’s connection with my father and the fact that those grey-cloaked attackers had carried Saph’s blades. My father has never mentioned someone of that name, and a sliver of doubt sliced through my stomach. Looking at the worn-out crest on the scrap of silk, and comparing it to the drawing of the crest of Kivel, I couldn’t come to the same conclusion as Thaeia. They have little to nothing in common. But I did understand her need to make some kind of connection. I just think she made the wrong connection.

We’ve been sitting in this little study area on the third floor of the library for a few hours, and we’ve accumulated quite the pile of books that’s spread out on the table. Nor flips the page of the book before him, but he seems distracted, his eyes not really focusing on the words. Halee is curled up in the overstuffed chair behind us, her eyes closed, her face relaxed in sleep, an open book in her lap.

The tapping of Thaeia’s finger on the page of her book draws my attention back to her. The book before her is even older than the first one I found, it’s binding fraying, some of the words faded from countless fingers passing over the pages.

She says, “Look at this. Maybe …?”

I lean over. For the briefest moment, I think about resting my hand on her thigh, but press it to the table instead.

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