Page 90 of Wings of Snow
Sven smiled and patted her hand. “The crotchety beast certainly tried. After my mother passed, I returned to the normal world, out of our warded abode, as I refused to hide any longer. I knew such a choice would mean he’d eventually track me down. Not surprisingly, he did, but at that point, I was ready for him.” Sven tapped on the books in the middle of the table. “I’d dedicated my life to learning everything I could about warlocks. I knew how to kill them even if I wasn’t the strongest sorcerer in our land.”
Ilara’s eyes widened.
“So when my father finally caught up with me, probably thinking I would be an easy kill, he had another thing coming.” Sven laughed, the sound a maniacal cackle that sounded slightly unhinged, and got a jump from my mate.
“Sven, you’re scaring our guests,” the Fire Wolf said with a sigh.
Sven snorted, then pounded the table. “Sorry about that. I get a bit excitable when I talk of him.”
“As I can see,” Ilara replied as her throat bobbed in a swallow.
Sandus nodded in approval, not seeming to mind Sven’s eccentric nature. “Good for you. It takes balls to kill someone you’re related to.”
Sven nodded. “I can assure you I have very large balls.”
Nish blew the tea he was drinking through his nose, and Ryder muffled a laugh behind his cough.
“Sven,” the hunter called from his chair. “We’ve talked about this...”
Sven didn’t even blink. “Ah yes, my apologies. I forget that speaking of one’s genitalia is often frowned upon.”
Ilara’s cheeks flushed, and I had to suppress a smile since blatant embarrassment was projecting from her on our bond.
“Anyway, where were we?” Sven reached for another book. “I know there’s an answer here somewhere. I could have sworn I read something during my studies about a spell that could do such a thing.”
I watched my mate as everyone returned to scanning their texts.
She glanced at me briefly, probably detecting the resolve that had just settled in my gut. Sven, while a bitoff, did seem like a decent male. Yet, he’d killed his father. Knowing there were others with fathers equally as evil as mine, others who’d done what was needed in the end and didn’t bat an eye over it, only fed my growing belief that my own father needed to die, not just be removed from power.
Ilara threaded her fingers through mine beneath the table and squeezed. I returned the gesture even though her worry was for naught.
Like Sven, I wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt when the Solis king’s soul was shredded beneath my affinity.
CHAPTER 26 - ILARA
“Ock, nothing’s here,” Nish grumbled an hour later as he finished looking through his eighth tome.
“Oh, it’ll be here, somewhere,” Sven replied with a grin. “I have more documents than any sorcerer on Earth when it comes to warlocks and dark magic, well, except for the Bulgarian libraries, but my dear hunter friend made the right choice by coming here. I can assure you that your answer lies somewhere within my books.”
I turned the page on a dusty text I was reading, suppressing a cough when the nauseating scent of potent thyme drifted up from it. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve been studying warlocks and collecting information on them since I was a young boy. Everything there is to know about warlocks is right here.”
I raised my eyebrows as Haxil asked curiously, “May I ask how old you are?”
“Two hundred and eighty-four years.” Sven grinned. “I take a preserving elixir daily. My own special concoction.”
“Most humans can’t live as long as Sven, sorcerer or not,” the Fire Wolf said dryly as he leaned back in his chair. The wood groaned under his weight.
That spark of curiosity ran through me again as I soaked up everything Sven had revealed. Living hundreds of full seasons, or years, as those in this realm called it, was nothing compared to our kind. Solis fae who were three hundred winters hadn’t even reached their prime. They were still considered young.
I arched an eyebrow. “I take it most sorcerers can’t live that long either?
“No, they can’t,” the hunter replied, then stood, prowling to the bookshelf to grab another text.
We’d gone through about seventy percent of Sven’s tomes, books, scrolls, and mystical markings. The mess we’d left was scattered around. Books piled everywhere. Scrolls stacked against the walls. Tomes that were too big to be held in one’s lap rested by the door. Everywhere one looked lay books, books, and more books. I could see why the Fire Wolf had chosen to start searching for a counter spell with this old sorcerer. Since all Sven seemed to read about was warlocks, he did seem a tad obsessed with understanding their power.
Sighing, I thumbed another page in the book I was halfway through. A new chapter heading appeared:How to Create and Counteract a Veil of Death.