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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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The Bookstore 1

Warnings: None as yet.

Summary: A mysterious strangers comes to your bookstore.

Character: Jorah Mormont (Modern AU)

This if for my Jorah Bean, they know who they are ;) and to anyone else who likes this teddy bear. Darkness to come, promised. As well, as usual, as I so desperately beg of you, please let me know what you think. Love!

The small bookstore is like a second home. It’s almost sad to say that your job is the only thing going on in your life. In a small town like this, however, it’s not that unusual. What is, is the only customer in the store. The stranger who just walked through your door.

You look at him over the top of your book, lowering it and smiling at him. His mouth holds a firm line and he nods in acknowledgement, “good afternoon.” His voice is low, gritty, yet somehow, soft.

You return his nicety before offering help, “anything in mind, sir?”

“Only browsing, if it’s okay.”

“I’ll be here,” you assure him, still smiling. He looks at you a little longer before carrying on.

You stay perched on the stool behind the counter and turn your chin down. You smooth the pages and reach for your bookmark. You place it at the center and let the book close around it. You try not to be distracted when you have someone in the store. Besides, you can’t help but wonder.

Bellhaven is a small place. So small it is often lost on a map, if written at all. Everyone knows everyone and a newcomer is always met with fanfare and whispers all the same. You didn’t hear of the new arrival but perhaps if you took your nose out of your books.

You hook your short heels in the bar of the stool and lean forward, trying to see around the shelf. You see his shoulders between the rows but nothing else. You sit back, realising how odd that might come off.

You turn and step down from the stool. You wander into the aisle closest to you and work at tidying the rows of incense and candles for sale in your novelty section. You hear his soles on the creaky floor and the soft scrape of books leaving the shelves. You smell a stick of vanilla incense before placing it in the proper slot.

He enters the middle row, just behind you, and takes his time as he makes his way to the front. You gather an errant wrapper left on a lower shelf as he pokes his head around. You glance over at him as he strode into the aisle.

“I hear frankincense is good for stress,” he says as he comes closer. He’s tall, with broad shoulders that top a slender body. He’s older too, face lined but handsomely so. You take out a stick of the indicated scent and hold it out.

“I didn’t know that,” you hold it out to him. He takes it and gives it a long sniff. “The quilting club mostly comes in to buy it for their get-togethers.”

“It helps with breathing thus it aids anxiety,” he explains as he pulls it away from his nose, two books under his other arm. “Is this your shop?”

“Yes,” you answer proudly, “small but all mine.”

“Ah,” his lips twitch, just a touch, his expression stoically hard to read, “and do you frequent the quilting club?”

“I don’t think I meet the age minimum,” you joke, “you ready to check out?”

“Do you want me gone? Are you closing soon?”

“No, no, but if you still want to look around, I’ll take your books to the counter,” you offer.

He considers you, his narrow blue eyes meet yours and he takes a breath, “thank you. This is a quaint little place you have.”

“Thanks,” you say as he turns the books and holds them out to you. You take them and retreat to the counter. He wanders along the aisle, still in your sight, and selects several other sticks of incense.

“Much like the rest of this town. I’ve just come here. Retired and all that.”

“Oh, well, this is the place for it.”

“Is it?” he wonders as he takes a candle and sniffs in. He checks the label and puts it back, grabbing another instead. “You don’t seem that old. Or retired.”

“Well, my demographic isn’t exactly the majority.”

“And mine? Which do I belong to? Do I qualify for a senior’s discount.”

You don’t laugh, though you want to.

“No, sir, that’s not what I meant.”

“A joke,” he says as he holds onto the pine candle, “I think I’ve spent enough money.” He comes to the other side of the counter and places the rest of his wares beside the books there, “moving and all that nonsense.”

“The incense is five for two. Good deal,” you assure him as you slip the sticks in a long paper bag. “And the books are mostly used and don’t sell for sticker price.”

You punch in the numbers and hit total. You read it out as he takes out his wallet from inside his tweed jacket.

“Well, I can’t imagine they’re that hard to sell then,” he muses as he lays out a bill, “especially with such a beautiful shopkeeper.”

“Did you really want that senior discount?” You evade and for the first, he smiles.

“I’m not that old,” he taps the bill and slides it across the counter.

“Noted,” you accept the money and count up his change, “well, sir, you have a good night.”

He takes his change and scoops up the paper bag in his other arm. “Jorah,” he introduces, “no ‘sir’, please. As I said, retired.”

“Alright, Jorah,” you fold your hands over your book, “my name’s on the marquee.”

“Noted,” he counters your previous response, “I’m sure we’ll come to know each other well.”

He turns and marches to the door. You watch him go as the bell rings above him. There isn’t much to do in Bellhaven, you won’t be surprised if he’s back for more.

#the bookstore #jorah mormont #jorah mormont x reader #dark jorah mormont #dark!jorah mormont #game of thrones #drabble #series #au #modern au

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hollytanaka · 4 months

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Today is the anniversary of the U.S.'s military invasion of Panamá, which occurred on December 20, 1989.

Julio Yao writes in the article "Legacies of the U.S. Invasion of Panama":

On December 20, 1989, former president George H.W. Bush ordered the invasion of Panama. The U.S. 82nd Airborne division pummeled Panama City from the air, as U.S. soldiers from the 193rd Brigade clashed in the streets with troops from the Panamanian Defense Forces (PDF) and the Dignity Battalions, a militia of workers and campesinos. Thousands of civilians were caught in the crossfire as the heavily populated El Chorrillo neighborhood was set ablaze. By the time General Manuel Noriega surrendered on January 3, 1990, 23 U.S. soldiers and 314 PDF troops had been officially killed in the fighting. Civilian casualties were estimated in the thousands. According to an independent investigation by former U.S. attorney general Ramsey Clark, as many as 7,000 people may have been killed. Mass graves were uncovered after U.S. troops had withdrawn, and over 15,000 civilians were displaced.

Despite the civilian body count, no Panamanian government since has authorized a commission to investigate the killings that took place during the foreign military aggression. No administration has attempted to demand reparations from the United States, nor filed a lawsuit against the United States before the International Court of Justice at the Hague.

Over twenty two years later, the U.S. “Christmas invasion” of Panama is being lost to memory, yet its legacy lives on in profound ways that continue to shape both domestic and foreign policy in Panama.

[...]

Panama’s tendency to submit to U.S. policy has resulted in a foreign policy devoid of independence. For example, Panama is one of the few countries in the world that has not established diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China, though it maintains relations with Taiwan in accordance with “checkbook diplomacy.” The U.S. government has prohibited Panama’s gestures toward diplomatic relations with Beijing.

Guided by this protectorate concept and right-wing policy, Martinelli’s administration [(2009-2014) had] offered its unconditional support to Israel and withdrawn all backing for Palestine. It [had] distanced Panama from the Central American process of regional integration, withdrawn from the Central American Parliament (PARLACEN), and increased ties with France and Italy’s conservative former prime minister Silvio Berlusconi, who was blackmailed by Italian arms company Finmeccanica into brokering a corrupt bilateral security agreement with Panama in which Panama was overcharged for military hardware, including helicopters, radar, and mapping systems. It signed a free trade agreement with the United States and Canada, and [had] given natural resources to foreign corporations, especially mining companies, including Vancouver-based Bellhaven Copper and Gold, Ontario’s Aur Resources, Toronto’s Inmet Mining, and New York’s Dominium Minerals Corporation. All of these actions [were] fully aligned with the foreign policy and national security interests of the United States.

This was, after all, the ultimate goal of the 1989 U.S. invasion. At a meeting on December 10, 1985, four years before Bush ordered Operation Just Cause, then U.S. national security adviser John Poindexter met with Noriega with several U.S. demands: (1) Panama should allow the training of Nicaraguan Contras in the Canal Zone; (2) PDF troops should invade Nicaragua to justify U.S. aggression toward Nicaragua’s Sandinista government; (3) Panama should help dismantle the Contadora Group, a regional initiative to resolve the military conflicts that were destabilizing Central America; and (4) Panama should consent to continued U.S. military presence in Panama.

[...]

The move [of the invasion] destroyed Panamanian sovereignty and the PDF, dismantled security structures, reformed the political system, and returned power to the old oligarchy. This paved the way for new forms of foreign domination, and the Panamanian people continue to suffer its legacy.

More Resources to learn about Panamá's Invasion:

Julio Yao's "Legacies of the U.S. Invasion of Panama," NACLA (March 22, 2012).

John Lindsay-Poland, Emperors in the Jungle (Duke University Press, 2003).

The documentary The Panama Deception (2002) on YouTube

The documentary INVASIÓN (2014)

Stephen Kinzer's chapter "You're No Good," in his book Overthrow: America's Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq (Times Books, 2007)

___

Photo Credits & Description: Images taken on the morning of December 20, 1989, when various parts of the capital city were under US military control | Images from Panamá Vieja Escuela or (@PaViejaEscuela on Twitter).

#panama #operation just cause #u.s. imperialism #imperialism #central america #history #latin america #martinelli is a piece of shit btw #my mom used to work for him before he became president #and she confirmed he's a major dick #on top of being a zionist neocolonial vendepatria #and yao's article is a bit too pro-noriega for me imo #like the batallones de digndad were death squads #not just militias of workers / peasants #like they were terrorizing people who were already living in misery #but i digress #just recognize that most panamanians hate noriega but also understand this invasion was overkill

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theblackbookofarkera · 2 years

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Timok’s Gallery of Skulls

Timok the Drifter is a long-lived wizard that has extended his life centuries by drinking various powdered metal solutions. A collector of the curious Timok’s finest most prized collection is his gallery of skulls. Timok claims his prized skulls are that of demons which he uncovered in the ruins of a nameless desert city. By possessing these skulls Timok keeps the demons from returning to our world and thus must be closely watched. Having seen the collection up close I can guarantee they are genuine…in fact I think I recognized some of them.

“The creatures the skulls once belonged to had impossible forms. There is no way nature could produce such a grotesque creation. Their very forms are a mockery of nature and all that is good and pure.”

-Waltram Stern, Headmaster of the Firstking Brothers Academy at Bellhaven

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marjaystuff · 3 months

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It Takes a Rake by Anna Bennett

It takes a Rake by Anna Bennett was a fun historical romance. It is the third book in the Rogue to Lovers Series. The novel takes place in Bellehaven and really focuses on Kitty and Leo.

Kitty Beckett was a heiress. As a child, she was constantly pushing her boundaries with her friends. She has been apprenticed to an architect (Leo’s grandfather) and can see life and beauty in so much. Once she is old enough she can take her money and move to London to design buildings.

Leo was apprenticed with his grandfather to become an architect and then he left for London to make his fortune. However, he has returned and he wants to reconnect with Kitty, who is less than pleased.

Bellhaven has started a competition to make a new building for the town. Kitty wants to win the competition to help start her future. Leo ends up helping her, making her designs somewhat more practical. She ends up helping him to not drown. Slowly they began to draw closer to each other, but is it enough?

I enjoyed reading It Takes A Rake by Anna Bennett. The characters were interesting and the story line kept my attention. I am looking forward to reading more novels in this series.

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sonjatwogreyhounds · 1 year

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Beauty and Performance Review

Cragwood Padraic

he Portsmouth Star

Portsmouth, Virginia · Friday, February 08, 1929

When president Collidge leaves the White House kennels will also change occupants. In addiction to Mr. Hoover’s police dog, King Tut, Mrs. Hoover will bring two dogs recently registered, Cragwood Padraic, an Irish wolfhound, and Bellhaven Behoover, a collie. Padraic will be the first of his breed to live in the White House kennels, although he is a splendid representative of what is believed to the oldest breed of canine history.The Irish Wolfhound – given to Mrs. Hoover by a former schoolmate, Mrs. Norwood Browning Smith, of Urbanna, Va – is still a puppy, yet he stands nearly thirty-six inches high at the shoulder and weighs about 140 pounds. He is less than a year old. He may become swift, strong and handsome; it is doubtful if he will ever become fierce. If he takes after a line of famous ancestors, he will have a good temper.

#irishwolfhound wolfhound ireland uspresident uspresidentialhisotry wolfhoundhistory

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enchantingpersonabeliever · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT Madewell Stretch Denim Pegged Skirt Bellhaven Wash: Cutout Edition Size 25.

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acourtofcouture · 3 years

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An Insider’s Guide to Throne of Glass: Bellhaven, Capital of Fenharrow, 1/?

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downtonantiques · 3 years

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#wroughtiron (No explanation necessary!). Picked The Weathered Soul Shoppe in #bellhaven where we also chatted up a storm with Leah of @pinetownproper Thank you both for your hospitality! (And, yes, soon as Kevin cleans up and I make cushions from some glorious remnant I break out of “the vault” the chairs will be in @downton_antiques - so be sure to follow!) #antiquesadventure #antiqueshop #antiquesstore #pickerslife #pickers #antiquesforsale #antiqueshopping #downtonantiques (at The Weathered Soul Shoppe) https://www.instagram.com/p/CH_YM9zBs8h/?igshid=1f2yjjgvm9y8j

#wroughtiron #bellhaven #antiquesadventure #antiqueshop #antiquesstore #pickerslife #pickers #antiquesforsale #antiqueshopping #downtonantiques

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bellhavenmanor · 4 years

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a Character, after learning a new bit of information: I wonder what this could mean...

Me, the author, who literally just wrote it:

[Image ID: the 'bitch me too the fuck' reaction meme]

#writing #writing meme #writer #bellhaven manor #original character

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time-schwime · 3 years

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I use the heading function in Word to make an outline and write slugs for chapters so I can look ahead and know what’s coming next, but they’re not meant for anyone but me which means they can be shit like this:

[Image ID: a screenshot of an outline in Microsoft Word showing five headings, each of which start with ‘Missing Missing Missing.’ They read ‘EEEUUUGH’, ‘Emerson in Atlantis’, ‘Around the Manor’, ‘You Ever Seen a Ghost?’, and ‘Tracking Grim’.]

PS: If you want more information AND MEMES relating to this project, follow @bellhavenmanor

#writing #writing project #bellhaven manor #personal #writing meme #outlining #outline #microsoft word works sometimes

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softboiled-cozies · 4 years

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She is the steam rising from a cup of coffee

Lips warm, inviting

Like the first sip

And you feel the sleepless night slip away

As she draws you in

With a breath, another

The sun not yet risen

Darkness outside the window, blue and gray

Saying ‘Here, here is the day,

Wake up’

Then the coffee cools and the steam fades

But it’s just as sweet

The taste on your mind through the day

As the sun rises and peaks and sets again

And the next morning she presses the cup into your hand

And her kiss is the first sip of coffee in the dark

#poetry #original poem #wlw #sapphic energy #sapphic #bellhaven inspo #my work

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nice-bright-colors · 5 years

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Lunch Today: Pleasant House Pub & all the Ales I didn’t have. Sigh.

#imagine that - me in a pub without a pint #no really this makes me happy #so happy that I’m crying #they even had Bellhaven on tap #everybody else at the table had a pint #fuck me sideways they all had one #i drank two club sodas #and paid for lunch

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elentiyawhitethorn · 2 years

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You’re a Mystery to Me

Chapter One | Part Four

CW: language, very minor discussion of crime (including breaking & entering), a few dirty thoughts on Lorcan’s part as to be expected

Masterlist//Moodboard//2966 words

It was loud in the living room as Aelin chatted with the staff, everyone talking at once, at least two different conversations going around. They seemed to have mutually agreed to set aside their differing opinions concerning the ghost of great-great-whatever Brannon. Rowan wasn’t much included in the conversation, but he preferred it that way. He was content to sit and listen.

Creaks sounded outside in the hall, and Emrys shot his husband an I told you so look, but soon enough Orlon shuffled in the room, dressed in a long grey robe and slippers. Certainly not a ghost.

“Morning, everybody.”

Aelin stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then helped him to his rocking chair. Rowan thought about how relieved she must be, knowing that even if he was wrong about the ghosts, he wasn’t losing control of his mental capacities; not if everyone acknowledged the strange occurrences. It was pure superstition at this point, not dementia.

“When’s Darrow coming home?” Malakai asked, and Rowan noticed Aelin frowning and picking at a hole in her sweatpants.

Orlon smiled. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Who’s Darrow?” Rowan asked.

Orlon looked over. “He’s my partner. He’s on a business trip in Bellhaven right now. You’ll like him.”

Rowan smiled back at him, but he couldn’t stop glancing at Aelin, who was still scowling.

She stood up. “I’m going to go now. See you later.” She flashed a smile at her uncle, but Rowan could clearly see that it was faked, and Orlon could too, judging by the sigh he let out.

Rowan got up as well and followed her out, waving at the four people left as he walked out.

He caught up to Aelin. “What’s your problem with Darrow?”

“Why is that any of your business?” she hissed.

“Because I’m bored and as the hostess, it’s your job to entertain me.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “There isn’t really a particular reason. He’s just an all-around asshole.”

“Elaborate,” Rowan commanded as he sped up, trying to keep pace with Aelin, who was taking long strides down the hallway.

She sent him a look that meant trouble. “Watch yourself, Whitethorn.”

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging. This is the closest thing to gossip I’m going to come across on this vacation.”

Aelin laughed melodically, throwing her head back freely. She looked… beautiful. “He hasn’t done anything specifically. He just rubs me the wrong way. Too stiff and grumpy. Not so unlike yourself, actually.”

Rowan frowned, and she grinned.

“I should change,” Aelin said. Rowan glanced around them to find they were back in the hallway with their bedrooms. “You can wait if you want, and I’ll try to entertain you some more when I come out.”

Rowan leaned against the wall and nodded his head slightly in agreement.

Aelin stepped in her room, then looked back at him. “And Rowan, don’t worry. There will be plenty of gossip on this trip. You’re with me.”

With that she took the last step and closed the door behind her, leaving Rowan smiling in the hall.

—

“Austenitic stainless steel,” Elide muttered. “Just as I thought.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Lorcan asked.

Elide frowned, her shyness entirely overshadowed by her desire to solve this. She could never leave something alone without figuring it out. That’s why she was going into engineering as a career.

“Why are you here, Lorcan? You clearly have no idea what I’m doing.”

He didn’t look perturbed, just endlessly amused. “For one thing, there’s nothing better to do. And for another thing, you don’t know I won’t catch on if you actually tell me what you’re thinking. I might surprise you.”

Elide pursed her lips. “Each noise is associated with a certain room or area. Obviously whoever is making the sounds is using the space around them. Uncle O described a metallic sound when he was in the kitchens. The entire room is filled with stainless steel. Someone taps something, and there you go. That part’s just common sense, not real detective work. But I need to establish opportunity before I can move forward.”

Lorcan nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. What next?”

“I need to check”—Elide consulted with her notepad—“how securely the paintings are placed on the walls, as well as the shutters on the outside of the house. Also whether there are creaks in the upstairs rooms. There are, but I still need to verify for scientific purposes. It sounds like everything happening during meals is other stuff being dropped, aside from the shutters, and I can’t exactly do anything about that, so there’s nothing to be done there. I do want to check how drafty it is in the areas where stuff has been falling over. And the stairs.”

“What about the stairs?”

Elide frowned. “I don’t know. Most of the staircases—all of them, actually—don’t exactly have anywhere someone can hide to the side and mess around with whoever’s walking up or down them, and yet Uncle O describes tapping noises. I should have asked if the sounds there were right next to the person or above or below. There was a lot more I should have asked them, actually. But there will be time for questions later. Right now we’re just observing.”

Lorcan listened attentively, then said, “You seem pretty convinced that someone is doing this. That it isn’t just the wind, or their paranoia.”

“I can’t discount the possibility entirely,” Elide replied, “But it seems rather unlikely. Things are moving, and breaking, and all sorts of things are happening. As for whether the culprit is one of those four screwing around with the others or an outside force, it’s far too early to tell. And if it is an outsider, I wouldn’t be able to say whether that person—or people—are just playing a prank, or if they have malicious intent. Now isn’t the time for conclusions, merely inspection.”

Lorcan nodded, seeming to take Elide’s spew of words rather well. She was surprised.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

An hour later, everything on Elide’s list had been meticulously crossed off. She and Lorcan had even stopped back in the living room to ask some more questions at one point, receiving some clarifications. Aelin and Rowan hadn’t been in the room, but Elide was too consumed with her work to bother asking when and where they had gone.

Now they were sitting in one of the staircases, Elide daintily seated on one step with her feet on the one below, Lorcan a couple steps down sitting lengthwise across it, and leaning against the wall. The curve of the staircase left them with plenty of privacy.

Lorcan had actually picked up on everything Elide did pretty quickly, and oftentimes without instruction. And he had known they would be returning to the staircase without Elide saying anything. He was smarter than he let on.

But Elide was too busy thinking to care much.

“I just don’t understand,” she said.

“I know.” Lorcan’s voice as confused as hers was.

Elide took a breath. “So let’s lay out the details. We tested every single staircase in the house. This one was the only one that sounded abnormal, the only one that sounded much more hollow than the small space for insulation should allow.”

“And when we talked to Orlon again,” Lorcan continued, “this was the one staircase he said it happened in. Which can’t be a coincidence.”

Elide nodded. “But because of all four of their accounts describe tapping noises directly next to whoever is using the stairs, that only leads to one conclusion. And it can’t be.”

Lorcan frowned. “It has to be.”

“But how can someone be back there?” Elide hissed. “Creeping in some unknown space in the walls? This isn’t some fucking mystery novel. And I can only pray one of the four of them is doing it, because think of what it means if it isn’t!”

“Not only is someone breaking in and messing with everybody, but they’re sneaking around through some sort of secret passage.”

“Yeah,” Elide said, exhaling. “I don’t want to talk here anymore.” She stood, then hurried up the stairs.

“Where are we going now, then?” Lorcan asked, following her.

“I don’t know. Away from there, anyway. Actually,” Elide said, stopping so suddenly that Lorcan barely avoided running into her, “Uncle O’s study. I think he has a floor plan of the house in there.”

“Good idea.”

—

Aelin laughed so hard she almost fell over. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not, I swear,” Rowan said.

Aelin grinned. “Gods, you’re just trouble, aren’t you?”

Rowan laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“What do you think Elide and Lorcan are doing?” Aelin asked.

“Something useful, probably. Even Lorcan has more motivation than we do.”

Aelin snorted. “That’s not what I meant. Do you think they’re… bonding?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Rowan choked on a laugh. “Neither of them have enough courage to be bonding. They’re likely just avoiding eye contact and being awkward.”

“Aww, the poor lovebirds,” Aelin cooed. “What can we do?”

“Do?”

“You know, set them up!”

“Set them up? Why is this our business?”

“Because,” Aelin drawled, “You wanted gossip, I’m providing. Being a good hostess and all.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Are you sure they even want to be set up?”

“Well they would never admit it, I’m sure, but of course they do! I’m not saying they’re in love or anything, but they totally want to fuck. That’s enough for me.”

Rowan just shook his head and looked across the rooftop, his lips tugging upward. Aelin had brought him to the roof via a long staircase and a few twists and turns. They were lounging dangerously on a slightly less sloped portion of tiles, Aelin’s feet dangling over the edge.

“How do you plan on setting them up?” Rowan asked.

“We,” Aelin corrected, “are going to figure something out. I don’t yet know.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Let me know when you’ve decided.”

“Will do.” Aelin gazed out along the expanse of land, all owned by Uncle O. A large rectangle of perfectly mowed grass bordered the back of the house, with hedges and flowers methodically bordering the space. Behind it was a woodland, wildlife abundant and trees growing freely. The woods were all owned by the family as well, but Uncle O requested they were to be left alone, so Malakai focused his attentions on the yard, and the bushes in the front.

“What do you think is going on?” Rowan asked after a moment. “With the haunting shit.”

Aelin hummed in thought. “Elide’s definitely better equipped than I am to answer that. But maybe Luca got bored and wanted to have some fun.”

“You think he’d do that?”

Aelin glanced over at him. “I mean, if he is it’s not really that serious. Just a prank.”

Rowan frowned. “One of his fathers twisted his ankle. I wouldn’t call that just a prank.”

“That wasn’t on purpose,” Aelin said, squinting at Rowan. “Even if it wasn’t Luca, that doesn’t seem like it was meant to happen.”

“I’m just saying, you should be careful around him.”

Aelin snorted, then frowned as she realized the seriousness of his statement. “I should be careful around the fifteen-year-old kid I’ve known since the day he was born? The same kid who blushes at everyone female he comes across and buys me chocolate chip pumpkin muffins out of the goodness of his heart?”

Rowan winced, likely figuring out he’d said the wrong thing. A bit too late for regret.

“I’ll be inside. It’s dinnertime soon,” Aelin said, standing and stalking back across the roof.

She didn’t miss Rowan’s sigh as she made her way back to the door.

She did, however, miss the eyes watching her. Eyes that did not belong to Rowan.

—

Lorcan tried to contain his shock. “That is… a rather large amount of space between walls.”

Elide nodded slowly. “I can’t imagine any other reason it would be there.”

“So now we’re officially praying someone here is pranking the others,” Lorcan summed up.

Elide nodded again, deep in thought as she studied the floor plan. They had crept into Orlon’s study and were looking at the many different floors of the mansion. The space between the walls on one side of the staircase they’d investigated, as well as along several different hallways, was much larger than the rest of the house. Something was between the walls, some sort of hidden corridor.

“Where do you think the entrance is?”

Elide hummed noncommittally. “I would say there are more than one. Someone is able to enter, either from somewhere close to their room or from the outside, and reappear around the areas of incident, of which there are many. But it’s difficult to tell where the entrance or entrances are from here.”

Lorcan looked closer and trailed his finger along the map. “This space runs along here and to the set of stairs. If there’s an outside entrance it would likely be on the first floor. We might be able to find it if we see where the path goes.”

Elide thumbed through the other pages. “Um, where’s the one for the first floor?”

Lorcan frowned. “It’s there somewhere.”

“Have we checked it yet?”

“No, but…” Lorcan shrugged.

“So we don’t actually know it’s here.” Elide’s voice turned a little upset.

“Don’t worry, it just slipped out or something,” Lorcan said in his best soothing tone (which wasn’t that great). “Check the floor.”

“It’s not on the floor,” Elide hissed.

Lorcan winced. He checked under the desk and around the carpet. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. He grabbed the stack of floors and sifted through them. “Gods-dammit,” he muttered.

“I told you,” Elide said, clearly panicking. “What does this mean? Did somebody know we would come looking and take that one?”

“Or maybe Orlon just moved it or lost it. Ask him about it.”

Elide winced. “We’re not supposed to be in here.”

Lorcan grinned. “I didn’t know you were such a rule-breaker, Lochan.”

She blushed, scowling. “I’d hardly call sneaking into my uncle’s study extreme. Besides, I find it unlikely that he would have done that. He probably wouldn’t be able to help us.”

“So,” Lorcan said, leaning against the desk. “Let’s work under the assumption that whoever is doing the haunting bullshit took the plan for the first floor. What does that tell us?”

“That that’s where the entrance is,” Elide said immediately, blinking.

“Exactly,” Lorcan said. “Not confirmed, but we might as well check around, right?”

Elide scribbled something in her notepad. “Yes. Tomorrow though. I think Uncle O will call us for dinner soon. I don’t want him getting suspicious.”

Hesitantly—wanting to be done with this and get a chance to relax—Lorcan murmured his agreement. Then he said, “What are we telling Rowan and Aelin about this?”

“I don’t want them freaking out. And of course they’re not suspects, having been here only a day and a half, but I still want as few people as possible to know.”

Lorcan nodded. “Smart.”

“Let’s just go before he comes back,” Elide said. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

“Alright.”

Elide started toward the door, then paused as Lorcan said, “Is this where the kingsflame was?”

She turned back around, eyeing the glass case he was looking at. “Yeah. Aelin and I never believed in the legend stuff, but we always thought it was pretty. Red and golden, not like any flower I’d ever seen before. It came back unidentified on every plant app I used, but Uncle O wouldn’t let me take it to a lab.”

Her voice held such sincere sadness that Lorcan couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Gee, that must have been awful for you.”

Elide scowled at him. “Let’s go.” She reached for the handle, promptly dropping it and stepping back as if she’d been burned.

“What’s—”

“Hush,” Elide whispered, looking around frantically. She settled on the desk and then grabbed Lorcan by the arm and tugged him around to the other side.

She crouched, still holding onto Lorcan, and he didn’t need to be smart to know Elide had heard someone coming. He got down on the floor and scooted under the desk next to her.

A moment of silence passed, with Elide’s elbow in Lorcan’s gut and his knee somehow on her lap. It was a tight squeeze. Lorcan smirked at the expression on her face.

And then the door opened. Someone shuffled inside, murmuring something under their breath, “Where are they, where are they?”

Elide tensed against Lorcan’s side.

She relaxed as, in a much clearer, louder voice, the person said, “There they are. Been looking for my glasses all day.” It was Orlon.

Lorcan heard him slowly leave the room, and he exhaled, relieved Orlon hadn’t come around to this side of the desk. As soon as the door closed, Lorcan scooted out and stood, holding out a hand to help Elide up.

She stared at his hand, eyes comically wide, for a few seconds, then grabbed it. Lorcan gently pulled Elide to her feet, her soft hands so tiny in his. Lorcan ignored the feeling that observation gave him. After all, Elide was cute and fuckable. And she had tiny hands. There wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Let’s go before someone starts wondering where we are,” Lorcan said.

Elide released his hand immediately and turned. “Yeah,” she breathed as she reached for the doorknob again, this time opening it slightly and peering out before opening the door all the way. She didn’t look back as she started down the hallway.

Lorcan didn’t even have enough self-control not to stare at her ass as he followed her to dinner.

———

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#rowaelin #elorcan #tog #you’re a mystery to me #my writing

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