Olivia pulled away, wishing he wouldn’t call her love if he didn’t mean it. “Cautious isn’t going to end your curse. If you want a normal life—and death—you’re going to have to let my father perform his magic. One of my ancestors hurt you, and I’m trying to give you what you want, but I can’t if you won’t help yourself.”
She stormed toward the door. Stubborn, difficult man.
As she reached for the door knob, Marrok was behind her, one palm flat against the door, holding it shut. The other curled around her waist. His agitated breath fanned across her neck.
“Shh. I know.”
As Olivia sucked in a ragged breath, she realized that she was crying. She swiped away the hot tears drizzling down her cheeks. Marrok squeezed her to him, drawing her into his heat and comfort. So perfect, his soft words and touches. So insidious, since he didn’t really mean them.
“Together. We will go together. And you will be very careful.”
When he held her like this, with such concern, it was tempting to believe. But he needed her to achieve his mortality. It behooved him to keep her happy. That fact flooded her with emotion. Her love for him, yes, but more. Sadness. Dread.
Opening this book would be the beginning of their end. If the curse didn’t kill him, he’d likely do the job himself. And after a millennium and a half, he deserved peace.
Olivia turned and threw her arms around Marrok, hugging him so tightly, her arms ached.
I love you. It was on the tip of her tongue. But she held it in and held on as if the world would end once she let him go.
Before she got even more attached, she pulled back. But Marrok wound those two strong arms around her and brought her close again.
“All will be well. I will do everything in my power to make it so. No more tears.”
She pulled away, swiping at wetness on her face. “Let’s go.”
Quickly, he tossed on his clothes, grabbed the diary from its hiding place, then turned to her. “What is amiss?”
“Why should anything be wrong?” she misdirected, looking deep into those gray-blue eyes and memorizing the sight of him.
“Tell me, what is it you fear?” he whispered, cupping her cheek.
“Nothing.” Being without you. “Opening the diary is a big step.”
“Indeed.” He pressed his lips to hers softly. A reassurance?
It felt like a good-bye.
Marrok followed Olivia out of their borrowed bedroom, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back.
This might be it, the end of his accursed immortality. And it might be another ploy on Gray’s part to get his hands on the book. Either way, change was afoot. He hoped it was for the better.
But he refused to go to Gray unprepared. Marrok was not privy to all a wizard of his stature could perform. Aye, he had learned much in the few days he’d been at Bram’s estate, but Marrok knew he had but scratched the surface of the feats magickind was capable of.
His host, however, was a bloody expert.
“Wait here,” he said at the top of the stairs.
At Olivia’s reluctant nod, Marrok made the long trek down the hall. When he stepped into the shadows, he looked back at her, catching her unguarded expression. And he saw it squarely: sadness, grief.
Would she mourn him if was no longer in her life? He wished he knew. But as he had concealed his growing feelings because he knew so little of her heart, she had done the same.
Heaven help him, he was the consummate idiot, falling for the descendant of the very woman who had sentenced him to a horrific fate. And yet…Olivia’s innocence and pluck, her belief in everyone’s innate goodness, was like breathing fresh air for the first time in centuries.
He had been dead inside until he met her. And if his life ended tonight, he would be grateful for the precious days he had spent with her.
God’s teeth, he sounded like a sap in…love?
Disquieted by the turn of his own thoughts, he hurried down the darkened hall to Bram’s quarters. Time to play this drama to its end. If Richard’s claim were another hoax, he would deal with her father and whatever he had up his sleeve, for good or ill. And if Marrok still lived—even if he never broke his curse—he would stay with Olivia until she understood they were meant for each other.
Finally at Bram’s door, Marrok raised his hand to knock. Before he could, the wizard opened it. He was dressed and freshly showered. Odd, given that it was barely four in the morning.
“I saw that you were coming for me.”
“In the shadows?”
“In a vision.”
That took Marrok aback. “Do you know Richard Gray is here?”
Bram walked into the hall with a nod. He looked about as happy as someone who’d had their home bulldozed.
Marrok grabbed his shoulder, forcing Bram to face him. “What else?”
“I contacted one of the Council elders, who had the misfortune of meeting Mathias in battle before he was exiled. The elder warned me that Mathias can perform magic no one has ever seen.”
“What does that mean?”
Bram shook his head. “Let’s hope we don’t encounter that—or anything in my vision.”
Dread settled into Marrok’s gut. “Tell me what you saw.”
“I can’t see details, damn it, just the result.”
“Which is…?”
“Very bad. I’m going to do what I can to prevent disaster. Tonight, do what I say; don’t argue.”
Marrok found himself nodding. Once, he had disliked and distrusted Bram. Now…he wasn’t a half-bad bloke. For a wizard, anyway.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Bram greeted Olivia. The longing and grief he’d seen earlier in her expression was hidden. But it was seared in his memory, reminding him how much he had at stake. What if these were his last moments with Olivia?
Marrok scooped her up in his embrace. “We are not bound to do this. If you wish, I will send Bram to discuss Gray’s plans for opening the diary and perhaps finding a way to dispose of it somehow. We can consider the information—”
“No. You deserve to be uncursed. You’ve wanted nothing more for centuries.” She cupped his cheek, and he opened his mouth. “Don’t argue. Mathias will soon realize my father has stolen his half of the key, and the Anarki will be here. It’s now or never.”
Surprise lanced through Marrok. Based on his expression, to Bram as well.
As much as Marrok disliked it, Olivia was right. “We need a strategy.”
Bram nodded immediately. “Watch Olivia. Do not let her go. I will be responsible for ensuring that nothing peculiar happens with the Doomsday Diary.”
They walked down the stairs in unison and crossed the expansive foyer. Bram brought the wizard inside and escorted him to the library. Richard clasped his pendant key in his hand. A large, ornate M encrusted with rubies, except where Olivia’s L would lie on top of it.
So Richard actually had the other piece to open the diary. Perhaps he could now open the book.
Still, Marrok did not trust Gray. His gut churned, sour. That feeling had served him well in battle. Something was afoot.
“Marrok. And Bram.” Gray seemed surprised to see the wizard. And not a little unhappy.
“Richard.” Bram sent the other wizard a false smile, but looked otherwise relaxed. “How do you plan to proceed with the book? Do you know what will happen if it’s unlocked?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “I have some ideas, but nothing precise.”
“Perhaps rushing in is unwise. I can guard your key here,” Bram offered. “Without an invitation to enter, these grounds are a veritable fortress.”
“I can’t let this out of my sight. If I’m captured, surrendering it again may be the only thing that saves me. In fact, my plan was to open the diary, uncurse Marrok, and return this to Mathias before he’s aware it’s gone.”
Olivia gasped. “Please, Marrok. There’s no reason to drag out your misery. Just…I know you would prefer to study and strategize and ponder and…whatever, but my father risked so much to bring his half of the key to us.”
“I still wonder why.”
Richard turned solemn eyes on him. “She is my daughter. I failed her for twenty-three years, abandoning her to a mother who was ill-equipped to care for and comfort Olivia. It’s too late to step in and parent, as you’ve pointed out. Perhaps I can offer her a future with a mate free of a curse he should never have been forced to endure.”
Was Richard now vying for parent of the year?
“Will I live if this curse is broken?”
Olivia nodded. “Sabelle said that mating was the most powerful magic of all, so does that mean…?”
“It’s possible he will live. A human who mates someone magical adopts their life span. The curse likely preserved Marrok’s body. Reversing this hex should allow you to begin a normal—well, normal for magickind—aging process,” Richard explained.
“Bram?” Marrok asked.
The wizard shrugged. “A curse of this nature is beyond most magical knowledge. When riled, Morganna was capable of great, terrible feats we’ve not seen before or since.”
Olivia turned to Marrok with pleading eyes. Bloody hell, when she looked at him like that, he wanted to do anything in his power to please her.
“You want to be free of this curse,” she whispered, clearly fighting tears. “I want you to be free to live or die as you wish, not as Morganna commanded,” she implored. “Knowing that she used you so cruelly will always lie between us if you do not break this curse. Please…”
Marrok was not convinced and reached for the book.
“Wait! With an open book we have far more sway over Mathias,” Bram explained.
“Meaning?” He should not care about magickind, but the thought of harm coming to the dedicated wizards he’d been training disturbed him.
“Once we open the book and learn to use it, we can banish Mathias forever. He will never target you or Olivia for revenge. If you fail to do this, he will hunt you. Neither of you will be safe—ever. No one will be.”
The words turned over in his head. Marrok scraped at them hard, looking for a flaw in Bram’s logic, and finding only one.
“With the book open, every magical megalomaniac will pursue us, since there would be no impediment to using it.”
“Not exactly,” Olivia said. “The diary is an object of feminine reverence, remember? In the research I uncovered that seems to mean it’s more powerful in the hands of a woman. It’s possible a man might not be able to use it at all.”
“Very good,” Richard praised. “And correct.”
“And as a le Fay, Olivia—and perhaps only Olivia—will have the ability to destroy the diary once she comes into her powers,” Bram argued. “If it no longer exists, the book will cease to be the cause of murders and wars. Until that day, we will tell magickind the book is in cinders or some such and guard it with our lives.”
“Why not wait to open it until Olivia has the power to destroy it?” Marrok asked.
Her father shook his head. “It’s been over a millennium since we’ve had all the necessary components to open the diary together. Consider, we may never have this opportunity again.”
Marrok glanced at the little red book—so innocuous looking—then stared down at Olivia.
“It’s better for us, for magickind.”
Outside, thunder clapped. Inside, his gut roiled.
But he saw the logic. With an open book, he had the power. With a closed book, he and Olivia had a dangerous life on the run.
Marrok gritted his teeth and sent the group a sharp nod. “What next?”
“This is how it will work, Gray. You will hold your key in your right hand. Olivia will hold hers in her own. Marrok will stand between you. I will lay the book on the table. No one is to touch it except when necessary. We will discuss next steps once the diary is open. Are we clear?”
“Indeed.” Richard nodded eagerly.
Dread gnawed at Marrok’s gut. Richard was saying and doing all the right things. He saw the logic of acting before they were attacked by the Anarki. But that did not ease his worry.
He blew out a steadying breath and stood between Richard and Olivia. He wrapped a tight arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. He would have liked to do more to ensure Gray could do them no wrong. His stare met Olivia’s, and the fearful sadness there wrenched him.
Outside, rain began to fall, wind lashing branches against the window. During his boyhood, the weather would have been perceived as a bad omen. The old superstitions were not always wrong.
Bram looked at Richard. “On the count of three, you will latch your emblem onto the front of the book, into the fitted grooves. Olivia, once he’s finished, you will lay yours on top. She—and no one else—will open the book. And I will stun anyone who breaks protocol.”
“Indeed,” Richard said. “But we must hurry. I feel Mathias breathing down my neck.”