Read Like A Historian Novels & Stories

She insisted she had but Lucien remained unconvinced. Even Ragnar accepted a second helping. Nobody commented. Doing so felt dangerous. The First Hollowed sat quietly beside Eamon. The historian showed him several sketches copied from ancient manuscripts. Occasionally the old warrior nodded. Occasionally he frowned. Sometimes...He simply whispered, "I almost remember." No one rushed him. Memories had become seeds. Seeds could not be forced to bloom.

“It has its moments. Mostly involving guillotines, though.” His smile widened, and for the first time, I felt a genuine connection, a thread woven between us in the hushed sanctuary of the library. “Perhaps a less… bloody topic would be more appropriate for a Tuesday morning.” He gestured vaguely to the shelves. “Anything you’d recommend to a history novice trying to escape the reign of terror?”

"It's uncalled for. Barbaric, even." She stopped at the bed frame. Turned the full weight of those eyes on him. "Barbaric?" She let the word sit in the air between them. "Kings and Caesars enjoyed it, Romulus. There is no greater pleasure without first knowing pain." A low, wicked chuckle. "History is my witness." "You'd have to prove that." He crossed his arms. She sat. Leaned forward. "Darling, I hold two PhDs in History and Philosophy. Tell me something I don't know."

“Not so good. The work of historian isn't as easy as it seems. It involves a lot of reading, researching, heck, travelling." I laughed, raising my brow at him skeptically. “You? Travel?" I asked amidst laughter. “Believe it or not, I wasn't always a hermit. I spent most of my youth traveling the world to gather information." I guess that made sense. “Well good luck Al. I should get going. Thanks for all your help," I said as I hugged the old man and stood up to leave. “Anytime alpha. Good luck with your mate. I can't wait to meet her. I'm sure she's a lovely girl."

“First thing that comes to your mind.” She hesitated before answering. “I like quiet things. Places where I can think. Reading helps with that.” “I read too,” I said. Her brows lifted slightly. “What do you read?” “History,” I answered. “Strategy. Things my father pushed on me when I was younger. I learned to enjoy it.” “My father did the same,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I like it. It’s just a necessity.” “So, we have that in common,” I said.

I moved deeper into the room. The shelves curved inward near the back wall, the books older here, their spines faded and their titles worn to near illegibility. I had to lean close to read them, my finger tracing the letters carefully. “A History of the Southern Territories,” I whispered under my breath, squinting. “Wolf Genealogy: The Five Great Bloodlines.” “The Post-War Reconstruction—A Council Record.” I paused at that last one. Post-war. I pulled it free carefully and turned to the first page. Dense formal text, the kind written by people who wanted to sound important.

I said with smile. "I heard about your ancestors, I had read the book about them". Honestly, I didn't dared to read the books about my family in the past generations. It's gonna be weird, what if she'll ask me about those books?. "Uhm, actually I didn't read any of those books" "Oh really? Why is that?" "I'm not fond of history, especially about British period". Actually I love reading historical books, I have to lie about it, so that she'll not ask me again about my ancestors.

For all I knew, they could be lying. I shook my head, refusing to believe or accept his words. "You are lying. This can't be true." I had seen history texts in my time learning to read with Cillian. I might not have read the entire text but I had read enough to know that something didn't mesh well in River's story. "History can not lie and there is nothing about you. About this." River's face hardened and he stood up. "History is written by the victors. I won't force you to believe me. Bury your head in a bucket of doubt if you wish."

“Tell me which of these dead guys I have to memorize to pass.” I shot him a look. “They’re not just ‘dead guys.’ They’re historical figures. Try respecting them for once.” He raised a brow. “So serious. I swear, you were born a hundred years too late.” “Keep talking and I’ll make you write a five-page essay on the American Revolution.” He grinned. “You’d read it?” “Only to correct every mistake.” “Then maybe I’ll make a few on purpose,” he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement.

She said, pointing her index finger towards the direction of the book, her voice firm and unwavering. Drigo glided across the room and got the book for her. He placed it in her palm gently before going ahead to say…. "If you really want to stand out in political matters, this book is a good foundation to build on." Micah glanced at the book. "Do you think I look down on you?" She asked, her gaze darkening. Drigo shrugged lightly before turning away. "I am a historian; I am only good with books, not in reading people's minds." Micah's grip on the book tightened; she took in a deep breath….