Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The volumes looked ancient. Their leather bindings were darkened with age, the ink faded to brown, and the margins crowded with careful notes.
“Thank you,” Nadia breathed.
Gail refilled everyone’s drinks. “Also, I’m fairly certain there’s an actual translation of the grimoire somewhere. Don’t know where.”
Nadia gulped. “Do you have any ideas?”
“No, but I’ll ask around. For now, I don’t want to encourage you to break the laws,” Gail said primly.
“I know,” Nadia said, excitement flaring anyway. “I promise I’ll be careful.” She’d gotten to know the ladies the last couple of months, and she trusted them. “I have a question.”
The room quieted.
“Isaac said it’d be better to have a strong Alpha female who can fight and that Taryn might be a better choice for the pack.” Nadia lifted her chin. “If that’s true, I can handle it. I just need to know.”
The women exchanged looks.
“No,” Bussy said finally.
Margaret nodded. “You can learn to fight. What we need is someone who can move us into the modern world without burning everything down.”
“That’s a good point,” Lorraine said, pushing her glasses up. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“We want you,” Gail said simply.
Nadia’s shoulders finally dropped. “Okay.”
“But,” Bussy added, chin lowering, “you really do have to start fighting for your man.”
“Not yet,” Nadia said dryly. “I already went into the middle of nowhere and pissed him off last night. That counts, right?”
Bussy grinned. “That most certainly counts.”
Margaret smiled. “Let’s see what we can come up with next, shall we?”
Yeah. Sure. Now all Nadia had to do was fight for her man without kissing him outside of the trials. Wanting him was simple. Staying away from him was going to be the real challenge.
Her belly pleasantly full of pastries and coffee, Nadia stalked into the formal dining room of her family home. The long table gleamed under the overhead light. “Solomon. I want to see the grimoire.”
Solomon looked up from the far end of the table. Ledgers were spread out in careful rows in front of him with each one marked. The grimoire rested near his elbow where he leaned. He wore a gray slate suit with a slate-colored tie that somehow worked. “The rules prohibit my giving the grimoire to anybody,” he said softly.
She planted her feet. “I don’t believe that.”
He straightened and tugged on his tie. “The book says nobody else can take the grimoire during the trials.”
She stepped closer. “The book can’t say that.”
“Of course it does,” he said. “We don’t want anyone altering the laws in the middle of a contest.” He reached over and flipped the massive bound book open toward the back. “It’s clearly laid out here. See?”
She leaned toward him to look. The language flowed across the page in careful strokes. Beautiful. Balanced. Completely unreadable. “I can’t read that.”
“I know. Very few of us can.”
She rubbed at her eye, fatigue pressing in. “I don’t mean any disrespect whatsoever.”
“I feel disrespect approaching,” he said.
Was that sarcasm? She opened one eye. “I just think it would be okay if one of the pack elders read the grimoire. You’re a great guy, Solomon. You’re intelligent. But I also think you miss subtlety and sarcasm.”
He looked down at the book and then back up at her. “You think there’s sarcasm in this ancient tome?”
“That is not what I’m saying.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re very literal. There may be gray areas you haven’t noticed.”
“That is possible,” he agreed. “However, the rules state that the librarian keeps the grimoire during any challenge situation. I was voted to be the librarian.”
“Yes,” she said. “But can I look at it if it stays in your possession?”
He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t see why not.”
Hope stirred in her chest. “Okay.”
He pushed the book to the side. “Feel free.”
She walked forward, her heartbeat picking up. “Could I copy it?”
“No.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Come on.”
“Absolutely not. You can read it. You cannot copy it. You are not taking it anywhere. The rules are clear.”
She cocked her head. “They didn’t have copy machines when this was written.”
He blinked.
“I don’t even think they had machinery,” she pressed. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t even have cars.”
“They didn’t,” he said.
She threw both hands up. “Then how can it say it can’t be copied?”
He sighed and tapped the middle of the page. “It says it right here. These words belong to this binding alone. To lift them from their place is to break them. What is broken will not serve the pack.”
She leaned closer, squinting. “Is that really what it says?”
“Yes,” he said, sighing heavily. “Part of it is about the words and the brokenness. But the elders also didn’t want any portion of our laws, histories, or customs shared with other packs. By preventing people from writing anything down, they kept it from spreading.” He shrugged. “Or you can believe the magic. I don’t know. Either way, you may not copy these words. Anywhere.”