“Let’s skip the waiting part,” he murmured into my skin.
“Please, Ren.” The frenzied beating of my heart was overwhelming. “It’s too fast. We’re supposed to wait for the union.”
He rolled onto his side with a low growl. “I think you’ll discover that delayed gratification is overrated.”
“I’m sorry.” I took his hand. “It’s not that I don’t want . . .”
I lost the words, realizing I didn’t actually know what I wanted.
“I can help you with that.” He reached for me and I jumped off the bed.
“I’m serious, Ren.”
“Right.” He slowly stood up. “This is new territory for you. Stupid sequestering, the Keepers better not have turned you into a nun or something.”
I snatched a book off my nightstand and threw it at him. “Get out of my room!”
He caught the book in midair and laid it on the bed. “Easy, Lily. That was a bad joke. I didn’t mean any offense.”
I shook with humiliation. “You don’t know what it’s been like.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” He came to my side and cupped my face. “I’m sure it hasn’t been fun. You deserve better.”
I nodded. He lowered his head, softly brushing his lips over mine. “I’ll show you how much fun it can be. You need to trust me.”
“I’m sorry I got angry,” I murmured.
“It’s okay. You’re the boss,” he said. “No pressure.”
“I promise I’m not still mad, but I’m really tired.” I sat down on the bed. “It was a hard day.”
“It was.”
“Can we just leave this for tonight? We’ve already . . .”
“Like I said.” His smile was tight. “You’re the boss. Until you’re ready, I’ll leave you alone. See you tomorrow.”
He kissed my forehead and left the room. I fell back against the pillow, not feeling in control of anything, much less like anyone’s boss. My lips still tingled from Ren’s kiss, but when I closed my eyes, only Shay’s face was there.
SIXTEEN
SHAY FLIPPED OVER THE PAGE AND SCRIBBLED a few notes while I fidgeted in my seat.
“I can’t believe they don’t allow outside drinks in here,” I said. “How am I supposed to read this much without coffee?”
“You haven’t read anything, Calla,” he corrected without looking up. “You’ve just sat there and watched me read.”
“You haven’t given me anything to look for in the stacks.” My eyes darted toward the book that lay in front of him. “Have you come up with anything useful yet?”
His mouth flattened into a thin line.
“Look, I’m not being critical,” I said. “I was just asking what you’ve got so far.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, the book seems to be divided into three parts. De principiis priscis, which I’d guess is the origin story of your world.
Then there’s a section called De proelio. . . .” He paused, watching me expectantly.
“‘Battle,’” I said.
Shay nodded, the corner of his mouth crinkling upward. “Somehow I thought you’d know that word.”
I smiled, stretching my arms over the back of the chair. Even the suggestion of a fight made my muscles twitch restlessly. I’d been sitting for hours, first at school and now at the library. Shay watched me with amusement and then turned back to his notes.
“Maybe it contains the details of the Witches’ War?” He glanced at the book. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“What’s the third section?”
He frowned, pushing strands of golden brown hair off his forehead. “It’s the one that makes the least sense. I can’t figure what it is.”
He opened the book, flipping pages until he had reached the end of the volume.
“It’s the shortest section by far. Praenuntiatio volubilis.”
“An announcement?” I picked up a pen and began doodling on the notepad that lay in front of me.
Shay turned his attention to the Latin dictionary. “I don’t think so. It’s more like a prophecy or an omen. But the second word, volubilis, implies that it’s not set in stone; you know, like the idea of fate or destiny. Whatever that section describes is something that can be changed, altered.”
“So the book ends with a description of something that is supposed to happen in the future?” For some reason the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
A disgusted grunt rose from his throat. “No. I skipped to the last page to see if it might have a conclusion that helped contextualize the rest of the book.”
He turned the pages until he reached the final lines of the text.
The prickling at the back of my neck traveled over my shoulders and arms. “What does it say?”
His voice was laced with irritation. “Crux ancora vitae.”
“What?” I stood up and paced alongside Shay’s chair.
“I think it’s a proverb or something. It means ‘the cross is the anchor of life.’ I didn’t know that your witches were Christians.” His finger moved along the lines.
I continued my restless path around the table. “They most definitely are not. And the contents of that book are not Christian. Whatever that proverb is, it isn’t Christian; it means something else.”
“You must be wrong, Calla,” Shay said. “If you take into account the form of the Latin and what I’ve been able to discern about this text by comparing it to other rare books: the script, the illuminations, all that stuff makes it fairly easy to date. It’s a late-medieval, early-Renaissance book, so it could definitely have a Christian influence. And then there’s the cross thing.”
“The book may have been created in the Middle Ages, but its contents were not. The Old Ones predate Christians.”