Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SASHA
Savory perched on Dominic’s desk, tilting her head back and forth as she studied Lady Kenneth.
The lady opened one of the ancient texts on Dominic’s desk, her fingers trembling as she turned pages. I’d never seen her this agitated, not even when discussing her favorite sword techniques.
“I’ve been cross-referencing the dampening patterns we found,” she said, flipping between volumes. “And I’ve made some disturbing connections.”
Dominic leaned forward, his shoulder brushing my arm. “What kind of connections?”
She pulled one book closer, pointing to an illustration that made my stomach drop. The diagram showed crystal arrangements in patterns very similar to what we’d seen in the underground chamber.
“This is from the Border Wars, over six hundred years ago.” Lady Kenneth said. “The corruption pattern matches something called The Severance Arts.“
I studied the illustration more carefully. “What were they used for?”
“Emotional purification rituals.” She flipped to another page, pointing to a section. “The dampening crystals arranged in these specific patterns weren’t for random attacks. They were systematic preparation for something much bigger.”
Dominic and I exchanged a weighted glance. “Bigger in what way?”
Lady Kenneth opened the second text, revealing passages written in archaic script. “I discovered practitioners called The Purists. They believed emotional magic was corrupting fae society, making it weak and unstable.”
“That’s the opposite of true,” I said. “Emotional magic is what makes the fae strong.”
“Exactly.” She traced a finger down the text. “But The Purists saw it differently. They would infiltrate courts and spend months, sometimes years, doing all they could to weaken emotional connections.”
The implications settled over me like ice water.
“Their ultimate goal was something called a Grand Severance ritual.” Lady Kenneth’s face cracked. “They would wait for major celebrations, times when emotional energy ran highest, and perform a ritual to permanently cut courts off from emotional magic.”
Dominic released a long sigh. “Permanently?”
“The texts describe courts that withered completely after successful severances. No emotion-responsive magic, no connection to the natural world, and no joy or passion to fuel their abilities.” She gestured to the charts we’d made sketches of in the underground chamber.
“Tracking emotional decline was standard practice. They needed precise measurements to time the ritual correctly.”
I tugged my notebook from my pocket and studied my drawings and notes. It would be impossible not to make connections.
“Whoever’s doing this has been preparing for quite some time.” Lady Kenneth opened the third text. “The texts mention practitioners often worked alone but followed detailed instructions from manuals passed down through their organization.”
“An organization?” Dominic’s voice had gone flat, the way it did when he was processing something terrible.
“The Purists operated in small groups most of the time, but individual practitioners typically worked in isolation once embedded in a court.” She read from the page.
“They positioned themselves as regular court members while secretly undermining magical foundations. The goal was to remain completely undetected until the moment of the Grand Severance.”
My mind raced through everyone we knew at court. “Festival timing would be crucial.”
“Exactly.” Lady Kenneth’s eyes lit up. “Maximum emotional energy during celebrations made the severance most effective. There are references throughout these texts to the final charts that would guide the timing. I…” A shudder ripped through her. “I believe that’s what we’re dealing with here.”
I thought about the records in the underground chamber and the tracking of every fluctuation in the court. “If you’re right, this person has been studying us. Measuring us. Waiting for the perfect moment.”
“The sophistication required would be extraordinary.” Lady Kenneth sounded almost impressed. “I believe we’re dealing with someone who has extensive historical knowledge and the patience to execute a multi-year plan.”
Dominic paced to the window. “Someone who’s studied these techniques. Who’s dedicated years to this. Who could it be?”
Lady Kenneth turned another page. “Listen to this passage: ‘The true practitioner of Severance Arts must perfect their craft over many seasons. The dampening must be gradual, imperceptible, building toward the final release like snow accumulating on a mountainside before an avalanche.’“
“They’re escalating,” I said. “The plants turning black and the increased dampening proves it. It’s all part of the pattern.”
“Historical accounts describe practitioners as patient, methodical, and completely dedicated to their cause.” Lady Kenneth looked between us.
“The emotional dampening would accelerate as they neared their goal, just like we’ve been experiencing here in our court.
I hate to even suggest it, but I think we have a Purist among us, one who’s doing all they can to sever our court emotions from our plants. ”
Savory landed on the desk, her black eyes fixed on the ancient texts. The spider who weaves the finest web has been spinning longest.
I shared her observation with the others.
“Your companion is right.” Lady Kenneth closed the first text. “Everything fits too well to be coincidence. We’re not dealing with opportunistic sabotage or random malice. If we’re right, this is something that’s been growing in our court for a very long time.”
It must be someone we saw daily, a person who participated in court life and pretended to be loyal. While Dominic had been kind to them, encouraging them, they must’ve been working out how to destroy the emotional basis of this court.
Lady Kenneth stacked the books and lifted them, holding them tight to her chest. “I’m going to research counter-rituals and protective measures in the library. If the historical accounts are accurate, I may discover evidence of previous courts forming defenses against The Purists.”
“How effective might they be?” Dominic asked. “We don’t have much time.”
“I’m not sure that I’ll be able to find something that might be helpful.” She strode toward the door. “But I’ll do what I can and return with anything useful.”
After she left, silence settled inside the office. Dominic went over to stare out a window while I organized my notes, trying to process the scope of what we’d learned.
The most dangerous enemies are those who hide in plain sight, Savory said, flapping her wings before tucking them against her sides.
“Our trap could trap us instead,” I said quietly. “This person has had years to prepare. Our plan with the fresh flowers suddenly seems much too naive.”
Dominic turned from the window. “Should we cancel the festival?”
“And give them exactly what they want?” I shook my head. “If we back down, we become a court cut off from emotional celebration, already weakened and demoralized. That might be even better for them than the Grand Severance ritual.”
“So we should proceed.” He walked back to the desk. “But how do we catch someone this sophisticated with a plan they may see coming?”
I tapped my pencil against my notebook. “Perhaps we should set more than one trap, create multiple contingencies, layers of surveillance and intervention.”
“The fresh flowers are still useful bait. Even someone this careful will have to respond to new plants being introduced.”
“But we can’t rely on that alone.” I made quick notes. “We need magical monitoring, physical observation, and backup plans if our primary trap fails.”
We spent the next hour working through possibilities.
You’re both thinking too small, Savory said. This person has spent years building toward this festival. That’s when they’ll make their move, not before.
I told Dominic what she’d said.
“She’s right.” My sigh rang out. “The fresh flowers might draw them out long enough to note where they are and how they might access them, but I bet the real confrontation will come during the celebration itself.”
“We need to be ready for both,” he said. “If we can catch them before the festival, great. But we should have contingencies in place for during the event itself.”
“Our emotional connection counteracts the dampening. If we position ourselves strategically throughout the celebration, we might be able to protect the court’s emotional magic even if we haven’t caught them yet. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than letting the Grand Severance succeed.”
The stakes had grown impossibly high. This wasn’t just about solving a mystery or saving a festival. We were fighting to preserve the emotional magic of the entire court.
A knock at the door interrupted us. The gardener stepped inside at Dominic’s call.
“Your Majesty, I’ve brought the fresh plants you requested,” he asked. “Where would you like them placed?”
Dominic and I exchanged a look. The traps were ready to be set, whether we felt prepared or not.
“The greenhouse,” Dominic said. “We’ll replace the dying ones with the new ones.”
“Very well, Sire.”
“We’ll be down shortly to supervise their arrangement,” Dominic added as the gardener backed into the hall.
After the door had shut, we finalized our plans in hushed voices. Magical surveillance spells keyed to alert us of any activity. Savory positioned for aerial reconnaissance. Us remaining close enough to respond right away.
“This feels inadequate against someone who’s been planning for years,” I said. “How can we make it better?”
“I think this could work.” He stroked my back. “We have something The Purists didn’t account for.”
“What’s that?”
“Genuine partnership. Real emotional connection. Their whole philosophy is based on emotional magic being a weakness. They won’t expect it to be our greatest strength.”
I wanted to believe that. Needed to believe it, actually, because the alternative was too terrifying.
I rubbed my locket between my fingers, finding comfort in the movement. My parents had faced impossible odds during their time. They’d trusted each other and relied on their partnership to overcome threats neither could’ve handled alone.
Maybe that was the real counter to The Purists’ philosophy. You didn’t need elaborate traps or clever strategies but connections that could make us stronger rather than weaker.
“We should get everything ready,” Dominic said.
I pocketed my notebook.
We strode toward the door, and he opened it for me, gesturing for me to leave the room first.
Somewhere, our enemy was plotting. They’d smiled at us across the dinner table, participated in court functions, and lived among us while working toward our destruction.
The most dangerous enemies hide in plain sight, Savory said.
Dominic rubbed my back as we walked through the castle together, passing lords and ladies who greeted us with what seemed like real warmth. Was one of them the saboteur?
Lady Featherby offered us pretty cakes from her basket.
Lord Primrose recited a spontaneous couplet about the beauty of young love.
Lady Edwina announced she’d seen that something momentous was coming.
Any of them could be The Purist. Or none of them. Someone we hadn’t even considered could be hiding behind a clever mask.
By the time we reached the greenhouse, I’d mentally reviewed every court member I’d met, trying to figure out if any had shown even a hint of deception. But The Purists were experts at infiltration. They wouldn’t make obvious mistakes.
The fresh plants waited in their containers, vibrant and healthy. We walked around the tables containing motion-responsive orchids, festival blossoms, and even a few rare specimens the gardener had collected from greenhouses in the area.
We had everything we needed to replace what had been destroyed. Everything needed to bait our trap.
Dominic helped me arrange them while the gardener worked on replacing outdoor plants with others he’d collected and left in his cart. We’d only replace those close by, saving some we’d hide on the grounds for the day of the festival.
Then we set our magical surveillance in place, crafting subtle spells that would alert us to any presence, magical working, or attempt to harm the plants.
It wasn’t enough against someone this skilled, but it was all we had.
As twilight settled over the gardens, Dominic and I stood at the greenhouse entrance, looking back toward the castle. Lights glowed in windows where our court prepared for evening meals and entertainment. Laughter drifted on the breeze, joy that fed the emotional magic flowing through this place.
It was hard to believe someone was eager to destroy it.
“Whoever this is,” I said quietly, “they may be watching us.”
“We’ll have to be unpredictable.” Dominic’s arm came around my waist, and he tugged me close. “We’ll trust our instincts instead of our plans.”
The hunter who follows only the trail may miss the prey watching from the trees, Savory said, swooping down to land on my shoulder.
We had one day left to catch a threat that may have been growing for years.