A bell sang our entrance.

The man behind the counter stood very slowly, as if afraid any sudden movement would make us vanish.

His hair was a wavy brown that stuck in different directions on top of his head. A button down blue shirt and navy slacks hung off his lanky frame. The book in his hands clattered to the floor.

He looked like a cute, bookish human guy. But I wasn't fooled one bit. His eyes betrayed his age. He was old. The power of his magic was a crashing wave against my senses. And as I got closer, I could see faint lines on the corners of his eyes. That in itself was odd. Immortals were not supposed to age.

I stopped in front of the counter. His face lost some of its shock, replaced by realization.

"Orla's daughter," he whispered, his voice soft. He bowed his head. "An honor, your highness."

"Nice to meet you. And just Elle, please."

I must have made a face, because his lips twitched. "Ah. I see you inherited your mother's aversion to the title."

Something squeezed my heart. "Is that so?"

"Yes. She hated it with a passion." He blinked, looking at my three companions. "Ah, where are my manners? I'm Arnold. A pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat, everyone. Would you care for a drink?"

He ushered us to the table near the windows. After politely refusing his offer for beverages, I settled down on a chair. Charles stepped outside, standing in front of the door. Irene stood near the window, not far from my seat, and Noah chose his post next to a door in the back of the library.

Arnold watched them take their spots with the amusement of an old man. He sat down across from me and looked at me with a smile in his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, I cleared my throat.

"You must hear this often, but you look like her," Arnold said. "Quite a lot."

I shrugged. "I've seen a picture of her. I don't think the similarities are as many as people like to see."

"Perhaps. Perhaps we see similarities where there are none because we want to." He smiled sadly. "Maybe because it will make us feel closer to the person who is no longer here."

"You were friends?" I asked.

"I was more of a ... father figure she didn't ask for." He chuckled. "Orla often said she pitied my daughters because of my continuous nagging."

"You guys were close."

He nodded. "Both of my daughters are mated and live away from me, and my mate passed away a few decades ago. So Orla was a blessing. She was lively in a reserved way, but her light shone through, pulling in anyone who knew her enough. Her intelligence was a candle that burned bright and extinguished before the world truly knew her. Quite the little genius, your mother was."

I twirled the ring on my finger. Hearing someone speak about her like this warmed my heart and soothed the harsh edges of her confessions. I had to remember that my mother was a person, with layers and a history and a long life. She might have made mistakes, but that wasn't all there was to her.

Although her mistakes might be the downfall of everyone and everything we knew. I swallowed past the confused knot of emotions. "My father told me she worked here."

"Ah, yes. She did." He smiled. "She worked here for a while, before your father swept her off her feet. Stole her right from under our noses, he did."

My lips twitched up. But I was more interested in his earlier words. He wasn't the first one to call my mother a genius. "Why did you call her a genius?"

He leaned back with a sigh. "Because she was. I've been alive for... a very long time. I've met my fair share of people, fae and otherwise. Most of them have been pursuing scholar studies on different subjects. So I've a fair bit of trust in my judgment when I say Orla was a genius.

"It isn't just about her spectacular control of her power, although that, too, is... was incredible. But her understanding of the workings of spells and magic in general surpassed even that of the witches I met over the years."

I leaned forward, interested in the topic. This was where my mother might have screwed up, where she might have used her intelligence for something far from benign. "She had good knowledge of spells?"

"Yes." His eyes brightened, suddenly looking as young as his face. "She understood how magic works better than anyone else I know."

"I see," I said. "So that made her able to come up with spells on her own?"

"Oh, yes. She was wickedly ingenious in that regard."

"Do you know the sort of spells she worked on?" I asked. He gave me an apologetic smile. My shoulders deflated. I'd hoped he'd have information about what she worked on.

He opened his mouth.

I perked up. "What is it?"

With a sigh, he rose and walked through the door that Noah stood by. It must be a storage room or some sort. After several minutes of rummaging and muttering to himself, he came back with a stack of thick, leather bound volumes.

"I promised your mother to keep it a secret, but I don't believe that's necessary any longer." He pushed the books towards me. "These are only the ones I knew of."

"What are they?" I read the spines of the books.

Fire Magic: Application and Limitation.

Fae Magic in Witchcraft.

White Magic and Black Magic: A Balance between Light and Darkness.

A Recovery of Prehistoric Spells.

"Books that your mother wrote," he said. My head swung up from the books. Arnold slowly nodded.

"I never knew." I looked at the books through new eyes. My mother had written all these thick books. I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

On all of them, the name of the author was O.O.

I frowned. "What do the initials stand for?"

"Orla O'Croinin, your mother's maiden name," he said. "And you never knew about the books because your mother kept them a secret."

That explained why my father never told me about it. "Why would she keep it a secret?" even from her own mate.

"I don't know," Arnold said. "She wrote most of them way before she came to work for me. I only know she was the author because I caught her modifying one of the spells in the book. I confronted her about it, and I don't know why she told me. She could've just made some excuse and I would have believed her. But I think she wanted someone to know about it, after all. We grew closer after that. She found someone with whom to discuss the brilliant ideas brewing in her head."

He was quiet for a few seconds. "Maybe that's why she told me. Maybe she was looking for someone with whom to let her guard down, let her genius show, someone who could understand her ideas and debate her thoughts." He sighed. "Highly intelligent people are often very lonely. She was probably looking for companionship in me. But she never told me why she wanted to keep it a secret. And after she mated with your father, she made me promise not to tell him, either."

The more I found out about my mother, the more I got entangled in a web of secrets that she knitted around herself.

It seemed as if no one truly knew her, even my father.

I put my hand on the stack of books. "How much are they?" I asked. I didn't have any money on me, but Arthur probably did.

Arnold shook his head with a smile. "Take them, they're yours."

"Do you have more copies?"

"I do. I wish I could give you the originals. Unfortunately, I don't have them."

"These will do." I smiled at him. "Thank you, Arnold."

*** **** ***

I loaded the books on my horse and we went back to the castle. My stomach rumbled as we went through the castle doors. And it wasn't a cute little rumble. One would think I was raising lions in there.

Irene, next to me, laughed under her breath. "Hungry, Elle?"

"Shut up." Then her own stomach growled. I snorted.

"I believe lunch is served," Noah said. His face looked blank, as usual. But there was a crinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Like yesterday, lunch was a more laid back affair. A buffet was set up in one of the rooms near the dining room, with small tables and chairs around the space. It looked like some upscale, middle aged-themed restaurant.

Some immortals, the older ones, didn't need food as much as humans or the younger ones did. So only one meal was actually formal in the castle; dinner. Lunch and breakfast were served in this room, and the castle guests came and went as they pleased to satiate their hunger.

A man and a woman dressed in white shirts, black vests and dress pants and black aprons stood on either side of the long buffet table. The woman's eyes shifted to me, filled with curiosity. I smiled at her, she smiled back hesitantly. The man cleared his throat and the woman's smile slipped off her face. She stared straight ahead again.

There were a couple of fae in the room, occupying one of the tables in the corner. Their eyes flitted my way.

Charles stood near the door. I filled two plates and headed to the drink section while Noah and Irene were still piling food on theirs. I shook my head. My appetite was big, but shapeshifters made it seem like a child's in comparison.

The male waiter approached, eyeing my loaded hands with a dark gaze. "Your drink will be brought to your table, your highness."

"Thank you," I smiled. "Just some orange juice, please."

He bowed his head, dark eyes still on me.

I sat at a table, the smell of food made me giddy. The waiter put two glasses near my elbow, water and juice, as I inhaled a big bite of chicken pie. I hurriedly swallowed, almost choking on my food. "Thank you."

He inclined his head and went back to his post. I washed the chicken pie down with juice. It was a little too sour but I was too hungry to be picky. After a few minutes, the waiters' rotation ended and they were replaced by two new ones.

When I was almost done, my stomach roiled, clenching. Was I eating too fast? I slowed down and took a sip of water. It didn't sit well in my stomach. I blinked, my ears ringing. The sensation lessened when I took a deep breath.

Irene and Noah finally joined me, balancing heaping plates of food on their arms. I drank the last of my water and pointed my fork at their plates.

"Seriously, you should've just taken chairs next to the buffet and ate there. Did you leave anything behind?"

"Ha, ha," Irene said. Her voice sounded a little too loud.

Noah put his plates on the table and frowned at me.

"What?" I asked, shaking my head when my sight blurred.

He came around the table and lowered his head until it was inches from me.

My irritation spiked when he didn't answer. "What?" I asked more sharply. Charles approached, his hand on his sword.

Noah snarled. Gripping my chin, he took a deep whiff. I pulled my head away, my magic pulling at the reins.

He dropped my face, snatched the glass of juice off the table and smelled it. What was wrong with him?

He dropped the glass on the table and turned to Charles who hovered over me. "Get the waiters who were here, and get Arthur."

"What's wrong?" Charles asked. Irene pushed past Charles, picked up my glass and sniffed it. She cursed. The waiters and the couple in the corner were staring.

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" I asked, staggering to my feet despite the wave of dizziness.

Irene uttered two words that drove a cold knife in my chest.

"Vampire venom."

--- ---- ---

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Love.

M.B.