Bryce leaned in toward the screen. “What book was that?”
“I clarified the image.” Declan pulled up a frame of the book right before Danika’s black-sparkle-painted nails grabbed it: Wolves Through Time: Lineage of the Shifters.
“You can see her finger going to some text here,” Declan went on, clicking to another frame. Danika had opened the book, skimming over the text with a finger. Tapping something right near the top of the page.
As if it were exactly what she’d been looking for.
Bryce, Declan, and Ruhn studied the still frame of the book in Danika’s hands. Cormac had departed upon getting a call that he would not—or could not—explain. The book was leather-bound and old, but the title indicated that it had been written after the arrival of the Vanir.
“It’s not a published book,” Declan said. “Or at least it predates our current publishing system. But as far as I can tell, no other libraries on Midgard have it. I think it must be a manuscript of some sort, perhaps a vanity project that got bound.”
“Any chance there’s a copy at the Fae Archives?” Ruhn asked her.
“Maybe,” Bryce said, “but Jesiba might still have this one at the storage unit.” She pulled out her phone and dialed quickly.
Jesiba answered on the second ring. “Yes, Quinlan?”
“You had a book at the old gallery. Wolves Through Time. What is it?”
A pause. Ruhn and Dec picked up every word with their Fae hearing.
“So you did look into the footage. Curious, wasn’t it?”
“Just … please tell me. What is it?”
“A history of wolf genealogy.”
“Why did you have it?”
“I like knowing the history of my enemies.”
“Danika wasn’t your enemy.”
“Who said I was talking about Danika?”
“Sabine, then.”
A soft laugh. “You are so very young.”
“I need that book.”
“I don’t take demands, even from Starborn Princesses. I’ve given you enough.” Jesiba hung up.
“That was helpful,” Declan groused.
But twenty minutes later, Marrin buzzed to say that a messenger had dropped off a package from Miss Roga.
“I’m disturbed and impressed,” Ruhn murmured as Bryce opened the nondescript package and pulled the leather tome free. “We owe Jesiba a drink.”
“Danika snapped photos of the beginning pages,” Declan said, now reviewing the footage on his phone. “Maybe only the first three, actually. But I think the page she tapped was the third.”
Bryce opened the book, the hair on her arms rising. “It’s a family tree. Going back … Does this go all the way back to when the Northern Rift opened?” Fifteen thousand years ago.
Ruhn peered over her shoulder as Bryce skimmed. “Gunthar Fendyr is the latest—and last—name here.”
Bryce swallowed. “He was the Prime’s father.” She flipped to the third page, the one Danika had been most interested in.
“Niklaus Fendyr and Faris Hvellen. The first of the Fendyr line.” She chewed on her lip. “I’ve never heard of them.”
Declan tapped away on the computer. “Nothing comes up.”
“Try their kids,” Bryce suggested, giving him the names.
“Nothing.”
They went through generation after generation until Dec said, “There. Katra Fendyr. From here … Yeah, there’s an actual historical record and mentions of Katra from there on out. Starting five thousand years ago.” He ran a finger up the tree, along the generations, counting silently. “But nothing on any of these Fendyrs before her.”
Ruhn asked, “Why would Danika feel the need to be secretive about this, though?”
Bryce examined the first two names on the list, the ones Danika had tapped like she’d discovered something, and countered, “Why were their names lost to history?”
“Would Ithan know?” Declan asked.
“No idea.” Bryce chewed on a hangnail. “I need to talk to the Prime.”
Ruhn protested. “Need I remind you that Sabine tried to kill you last week?”
Bryce grimaced. “Then I’ll need you two to make sure she’s not at home.”
Bryce didn’t dare inform Hunt over the phone what she was doing, why she was doing it. She’d risked enough by calling Jesiba. But not having Hunt at her side as she slipped past the guards at the Den’s gate felt like a phantom limb. Like she might find him in the shadows beside her at any moment, assessing a threat.