“Is this the creation of the fae?” I asked.
The painting depicted four fae on the beach in front of Norden House. Each fae leader received a gift from their god. This was what we needed. We knew the blood magic in question had taken place at the creation. Would these gifts serve as anchors?
Lord Arctos nodded. I hummed in consideration and followed him the rest of the way down the hall. It twisted to the left, and I knew whatever room we were headed to would be facing the lake. He opened a set of double doors easily, as if they were little more than an inconvenience. The voices on the other side stopped mid-sentence at his entrance.
“Yes, Arctos, please just let yourself in.”
The voice was wry, a tone quite similar to the one I’d used when the Vesten God had opened the door. The speaker was young—or, at least, he looked it. Who knew with the fae. His shaggy hair framed his face, making him look both windswept but still utterly put together. As I stepped into the room, his eyes tracked me, though he didn’t meet my gaze. He was bent over a table, books open in front of him.
I took the opportunity to survey my surroundings. It was like the Great Room in the library, fully lined with shelves. A desk sat in the far corner, but the stacks of books and papers indicated it was more of a staging area than a place of work. I couldn’t believe I was in the Vesten Point’s study.
The male unfolded himself from where he leaned over the book. “I see you found our rogue researcher.” He was tall, too, and lean, much thinner than Ambrose, but as he strode across the room, something told me that underestimating his power would be a mistake.
With a glance at Lord Arctos, the male offered his hand. “Hello, Evelyn. I’m the Vesten Point, but you can call me Carter. I’m glad you could join us.”
I stared at his hand for a moment too long. There was a power in this room that I didn’t quite understand. It felt ancient and primal, and it hadn’t been present with me and Lord Arctos when he ushered me back here, so I knew it wasn’t the god himself.
“Well,” the Vesten Point—Carter—laughed. “Usually, I’m the one accused of being taciturn.” He made to pull his hand back.
I grabbed it quickly to shake. “I apologize, sir. And I apologize for my tardiness. Please don’t take it as a lack of enthusiasm for the project, or a lack of ideas on solutions to your problem.”
He laughed. “Carter, please. And I took it as no such thing.” He gestured toward the table, and without looking, I knew that Ambrose stood there. I had known it the moment I stepped into the room and the tether between us loosened. The awareness had told me wherenotto look. I wasn’t ready to see what he’d learned from being left with my father.
Carter continued. “Your colleague explained you had an unavoidable conflict. He assured us you’d join shortly.”
Finally, I glanced up. Relief flooded Ambrose’s features, and I didn’t think it was solely from the release of the magical connection.
The Vesten Point continued, unaware of my turmoil. “We were discussing what Ambrose noted as one of your working theories. To discover if an anchor was used?—”
“Because when an anchor is present, destroying the anchor removes the magic.” My hand immediately moved to cover my mouth. Had I just interrupted the Vesten Point? I glanced at him to see what kind of damage I’d done—if he’d ask me to leave immediately or if I’d be allowed to at least collect my bag, which I presumed Ambrose had picked up when I dropped it. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled.
This time, Carter looked at me directly, as if my interrupting him had finally made me worthy of his attention. There were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and he was … smiling. He glanced at Lord Arctos, who only shrugged in answer to a question I didn’t understand.
“Yes, your point is correct.” He turned to Ambrose. “Or, at least, I assume that is the point Mr. Yarrow was about to make.”
Ambrose inspected me as he responded. He seemed to be searching me for something, but I couldn’t tell what. “That’s correct.”
“And does an anchor have to be stated as such?” Carter directed his question more openly to both of us.
Ambrose still stared at me and didn’t seem like he’d respond. I cleared my throat. Still nothing. I shook my head, needing to answer but unwilling to take credit for his idea. “Ambrose’s recent paper hypothesized that any object with a connection to the magic could be considered an anchor.”
Finally, Ambrose spoke. “It may have been my paper on anchors, but Evelyn was the one who suggested it could solve this particular problem.”
“Interesting,” Carter said. His gaze shifted between me and Ambrose, as if unsure who to direct his next question to.
I glared at the god standing beside the table. “Lord Arctos wasn’t all that helpful when we asked about any potential anchors from the creation of the fae, but I noticed the painting in the hallway. Lord Arctos bestowed a gift upon the first Vesten Point, correct?”
Carter shot a glance toward the Vesten God. “He knows that?—”
“My apologies, we rushed you right in here,” Lord Arctos interrupted, before Carter could finish his thought. The Vesten God rambled on. “This is a sufficient summary for now. Carter must attend to a few things, but he’d be delighted if you’d bothjoin him for the evening meal. We can discuss any tests you’d like to conduct with us while you’re here.”
I nodded slowly, glancing between the god and the fae leader. Carter looked as confused as I did.
Finally, Ambrose approached my side. “I put your bag in your room. I can show you to it.”
Lord Arctos shifted into his bird form and perched on my shoulder. “I’ll let Mr. Yarrow give you that tour.”
My glare was lost when Lord Arctos flapped his wing against the side of my face and flew to Carter’s shoulder.
