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With a muffled groan, a crack appeared, living wood drawing back like stage curtains. Even before the wall had finished moving, Aodhan was striding through the new opening. Noodle bounded after the mage, wagging tail disappearing from view.

Cathy hurried after them both, trying not to drip on any books. She’d thought herself immune to any further wonders by now, but her jaw still dropped again as she stepped from the shadowed library into shafts of sunshine.

Okay. Cathy pressed her lips shut on a hysterical giggle. So I can still be surprised.

The library had been nestled in the oak’s hollow heart, but this room must be set amidst its branches. Wide, glazed windows showed dizzying views of the surrounding woodland. The tallest trees didn’t reach even halfway to their lofty perch. It was like standing at the peak of some mountain island, looking down onto green, rolling waves.

“It’s perfectly safe.”

Cathy started at Aodhan’s voice. He was watching her with a slight frown, as though trying to gauge her reaction. Downstairs in the library, he’d been all casual ease, but now his body language had gone stiff and guarded.

“The floor is quite real, I assure you,” he continued, tapping one foot as though to demonstrate. “I designed the transformation spells to be self-sustaining. The room’s not going to vanish in a puff of fairy dust if I sneeze.”

Cathy hastily stepped inside, not wanting to insult Aodhan by appearing to doubt his magic. The room seemed to be separate from the tree itself, but it still had an organic quality, like it had been grown rather than built.

As she’d come to expect, bookshelves occupied every inch of wall. Aodhan had called this his bedroom, but it took her a moment to spot the narrow, blanket-covered mattress tucked into an alcove amidst the shelves. It was like Aodhan considered himself so much a part of the library, he simply filed himself away every night amidst the paperbacks.

Apart from books, the room held only a few spartan pieces of furniture. There were a couple of large, copper-bound chests; a writing desk with small, neat pots of ink and a few sheets of paper. A large cushioned chair sat in a shaft of sun, surrounded by piles of books. She could picture Aodhan reading there, alone and undisturbed in his high, remote eyrie.

“It’s so beautiful.” She followed the graceful curves of the windows, marveling at how seamlessly the glass met the wood. “Did you really make all this with magic?”

Aodhan’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, though he still had the air of a man who’d invited an unexpected guest to come in, and was now wondering if he’d left a pair of underpants draped over the sofa. “Not entirely, since I didn’t create the oak. That was already here. This place is a nexus of multiple ley lines—subterranean sources of magical power. That’s why the tree was able to grow so large. I did transform it to create the library and living spaces, though, and gave the tree a few extra abilities for convenience and defense. I’m fairly pleased with the way it turned out. Even if the dratted oak does occasionally decide to get cute with the portals.”

As if offended by the criticism, the opening in the trunk sealed itself shut.

Cathy put a hand on the living wall, running her fingers over the rough bark. She couldn’t make out even the slightest crack where the door had been. “The tree responds to you. Is it intelligent?”

“Depends how you define intelligence.” Aodhan kneeled to open one of the chests. “But as it turns out, when you take an already ancient oak, layer enchantments over it, and fill it with magical grimoires, it tends to develop rather more opinions than the average tree. Unfortunately.”

The branches holding up the room shifted, as though stirred by a non-existent wind.

“It’s a wonderful tree,” Cathy said, raising her voice a bit. “Truly magnificent. And so kind and thoughtful, too, saving us the effort of climbing all those stairs.”

With a mollified creak, the floor leveled out again. Aodhan let out a snort.

“Don’t start telling it you’ve never seen such a huge trunk.” He rummaged through the chest as he spoke. “You’ve already ensnared enough hapless creatures for one day. The last thing we need is a lovestruck oak following you around as well.”

“It can move?”

“To some extent, though thankfully it has yet to decide to pull up its roots and go for a stroll. The tree exists somewhat outside normal space. It can conceal itself when I’m not here, and rearrange the rooms at will. That’s how it opens the doorways. Here, you can borrow these for now.”

Cathy took the pile of cloth, which turned out to be a couple of towels and a folded robe. “You don’t have to lend me your clothes. I’ll dry out soon enough.”

He shot her a look like a college professor who’d just received an email begging for an extension. “You’re shivering.”

She was shivering, though not with cold. Ever since she’d stepped through the stone circle, she’d been running on adrenaline and desperation. Now, in this safe haven, it was all catching up with her. She could have happily curled up in Aodhan’s armchair and slept for a week.

Nonetheless, she shook her head. “I’m fine. We should contact Cuan and Tamsin to let them know you found me. They must be worried sick.”

Aodhan, who’d been shrugging into a fresh robe himself, froze for a fraction of a second, an odd expression flicking over his face. It was gone before she could be sure, but he almost looked furtive.

Then he shook his head, all brisk confidence once more. “That’s not entirely straightforward. It’s not easy to communicate across realms. Look, I’ve got to go take care of a few things. Dry off, get changed, and for the love of all the goddesses, rest. I’ll be back soon. Workshop!”

With a grumble, the trunk cracked open again. Settling the robe around his shoulders, Aodhan strode through the dark portal. Before Cathy could argue, bark closed behind him.

Left alone in a doorless treehouse at least five hundred feet above the ground, Cathy didn’t have much choice but to do as he’d ordered. She peeled herself out of her sodden clothes, spreading them out on the windowsills to dry, then wrapped herself in Aodhan’s robe. The fabric looked like rough homespun, but it was soft as velvet against her skin. The garment was a lot more intricate than it appeared, with numerous small pockets hidden in its folds.

Cut for Aodhan’s broad shoulders and tall frame, the robes practically drowned her. She folded back the sleeves as best she could, discovering subtle patterns of oak leaves worked in copper thread around each cuff. Aodhan hadn’t left her a belt, so she had no way of cinching up the hem. Holding it up like a Regency heroine, she just about managed to make it to the armchair without falling flat on her face.

Like the clothes, the chair had clearly been made for Aodhan. She tucked her feet under the hem of her robe, feeling ridiculously tiny. There was plenty of room for Noodle to jump up next to her. The puppy yawned, pink tongue curling, and snuggled against her side.

“That’s right. You get some sleep.” Cathy stroked the black dog’s soft fur. “Busy day tomorrow. I hope.”

She sighed, staring out at the sunset. Was Kevin watching the same stars come out, somewhere far beyond those high, uncaring peaks? Did he too feel a hollow ache in his chest that not even magic could fill? Or was he happy and laughing, all traces of her wiped from his memory?

She buried her face in Aodhan’s robe, trying to hold back tears. The brown fabric smelled like the library. Wood and paper and leather; and something else too, warm and clean and comforting.

Leaves rustled outside the windows. The great tree cradled the room in its branches, and her within it, murmuring wordless reassurance.

Safe, that voiceless, ever-shifting sound whispered as she closed her eyes. Safe. Sleep. Home.


Tags: Zoe Chant Fae Mates Paranormal