Chapter 22
Jane
Joy sat on the edge of the bed, untying her boots when I emerged from the washroom, my muscles still wound tight from the burn of Seraphyn’s siphoning.
She had only just returned from her own session. Elaith had been taking her out into the open air to train, always choosing somewhere empty where there was no risk of hitting anyone. A faint flush coloured her cheeks; whether from exertion or the cold air outside, I couldn’t tell.
“How was it?” I asked, crossing to the wardrobe and selecting leather trousers and a thick black sweater.
“Same as the other days,” she said evenly. “Some exercises are becoming easier to control.”
I hummed and laid my clothes across the bed. “It’s good that you’re making progress with Elaith.”
Joy didn’t reply. She tugged her long-sleeved shirt over her head, then hesitated. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Her braid had loosened during the lesson, strands slipping free around her face. Her breathing was slightly uneven, as though her body still rode the stream in her veins.
“What is it?” I pressed, more gently this time.
“What about our house?” she asked at last. “And if Father doesn’t wake up, what happens then?
I saw your tutor leaving. You still didn’t wield, did you?
” Her words gathered speed, stacking one upon the next.
“What happens if you can’t? That judge will send you back.
You and I will be separated, and we will lose everything and you—”
“Joy,” I interrupted quietly. “We don’t know what is going to happen yet. There is still time. Father could wake any day. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to suffer by the thought of every gods-awful option before any of them happen.”
Her head bowed. “I have been thinking,” Joy said, bending to pull off her boots. “The exams. The Healer gives us that sanguinite to help channel power into our bodies. If you can’t access yours easily yet, why not carry one with you all the time? Maybe it would help.”
I hummed, unsure whether it was the soundness of the idea that caught me off guard or the fact that it had come from her. Anything that helped me tap my power would root us in Mountheim. That she was the one proposing it said more than I expected.
“It’s a good idea,” I said honestly.
It was possible that she had begun to accept that, whatever became of Father or me, she would need to remain here. Perhaps the time with her tutor and the brief visits to the city when I took her to the Wandering Cup to try a frostberry tart had opened her eyes to the reality of her situation.
Or, somewhere along the way, she’d begun to picture herself here.
“We can ask Hildegard,” I said. “But can you hurry now? I’m starving.”
She lingered for a moment, then the washroom door closed behind her.
My stomach felt hollow, though hunger was only part of it.
I traced the faint sentence mark along my forearm, shaped like Mountheim. Less than four months remained before it ended.
Time was slipping through my fingers. I had done little more than stumble into visions that trapped me in a hidden plane of silver threads and falling petals, no closer to finding anything that might help us secure proof for Reagan’s curse. Spellcraft had been even worse.
Between the long hours with tutors and the toll of sleepless nights, I’d withdrawn from the staff and the duties I was supposed to have as emissary. Father remained in the infirmary, unchanged, with no sign he would wake.
Acid burned the back of my throat at the thought.
Joy returned, and I forced myself to swallow. Freshly bathed and dressed in black leggings and a crimson sweater, she fell into step beside me as we made our way to the dining room.
It was the one time of day we were all present.
The sight of dark chestnut hair at the far end of the table sent a pulse of relief through me. Reagan had been absent the past two evenings, away with Finn on liaison in Erisea.
We took our seats, eyeing the steaming pots of noodles and vegetables laid out before us.
Only after I sat, only after my knee brushed his beneath the table, did he seem to register my presence. His throat worked once, and he offered the briefest glance before returning to his plate.
Gwinifer leaned forward. “How is it becoming all mighty and powerful?”
To my surprise, Joy answered first. “If I was mighty and powerful, I believe I would feel more in control than I do.”
Gwin tilted her glass in my sister’s direction. “Do you know what helps with control? Combat training. It’s about time you joined us, snowflake. Your sister seems like she's already given up.”
“I realised I’ll never be good at it,” I said, nudging the food around my plate.
Joy turned in my direction. “Why did you want to learn combat?”
Because it seemed like a useful skill to have. The only one I could use.
I shrugged. “In case I ever had to punch a Strzyga.”
“There are many reasons to learn,” Gwin said. “The more control you have over your body, the better wielder you become.”
“A lot of things help with control,” Finn cut in. “For example—"
I missed the rest of Finn’s words when Reagan spoke quietly.
“How was your tutoring?”
He’d been schooling his expression for days now. I had begun to wonder if he was hiding any disappointment about my lack of progress.
“Seraphyn tried siphoning today,” I said, catching the quick crease on his forehead. “It didn’t work.”
He nodded and returned to his meal. No reaction.
“Reagan,” Gwinifer said, “Finn told me you’re leaving again.”
Reagan dipped his chin. “Finnegan and I are leaving for Banfgaard soon. We sent a letter requesting a visit. We leave as soon as they send us an invitation.”
“What are you doing in Banfgaard?” Gwin asked.
“With the investigation into the Order, we need more sources of information,” Cerridwen replied. Her gaze settled on Finn, whose eyes seemed a bit wary. “I hope your uncles can assist.”
“That is the question,” Finn said sceptically. “They won’t grant their assistance just because we ask. Especially if I ask.”
“That’s why we’ll propose an alliance,” Reagan said, lifting his gaze to Finn. “We offer them something in exchange for their spies.”
Finn muttered a curse under his breath.
“Alliance?” Gwin echoed. “Since when are you rallying the country against the Order?”
“Since we have many reasons to think they’re up to no good,” Reagan said evenly, meeting the questioning eyes around the table.
“I already wanted to ally with Banfgaard to have their spies find out if the Order is plotting anything else against me.
But in the past two weeks, Cerridwen and I found yet another reason to worry.
“I was thinking about Jane’s abduction and how nothing was done.
Varian only has a sentence because he glamoured as me, and one of the Scions because he used a hex that day.
But the others were taken because they tried to harm me.
” Reagan shrugged one shoulder, his expression steely.
“Not her. No justice was done for her, a hybrid-born.
That reminded me why there were people advocating for the hybrid cause once.
Do you remember? They used to have articles all over the papers, public rallies. All of that.
“I wanted to contact someone leading the cause here, to check for similar cases. But we couldn’t find any information about the previous groups that used to petition for hybrids.
It’s been nearly impossible to get information on them.
The more we searched, the more we discovered that there aren’t petitions or supporters anywhere, in any estate. ”
Cerridwen spoke next, her expression stoic.
“Most people we talked to—from the papers and the courts—said that those advocates have given up. The last information we found was an article from four years ago. It included commentary from an advocate saying it had become dangerous to speak for the cause or the disappearances. Human and hybrid disappearances. They talked about going into human territory and checking what they called police stations. So recently, Barracus assigned a few battle mages to visit human towns and they found an alarming number of humans who disappeared.”
The whole table had gone silent. This was likely what they’d been working on during the staff meetings I’d missed.
Once, Reagan had told me how the Order had been known to take humans in secret. It was just after I’d been attacked in Erisea by Scions, and I remembered how they had tried to take me too, for reasons I was grateful never to know.
Gwin folded her arms over her chest. “It’s been years since we had tips about human sightings in Mountheim.” Her eyes glanced to Joy and me. “Humans who were abducted at least.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Reagan said, facing her fully. “You’ve just been worrying about Wraiths for seven years. But there were other problems slipping under our noses.”
“Disappearances can happen for several reasons,” Cerridwen said, shaking her head. “But when we noticed that the number of humans and hybrids disappearing is considerably higher than that of mageborn, then we need to pay closer attention.”
“Why not send battle mages to investigate?" Gwinifer asked. “I can get back to doing that.”
“You could,” Finn said. “But elvenborn spies are more skilled at doing this secretly. If you start investigating, this information will spread in the outposts and might reach the Order.”
Silence stretched for the better part of a minute.
“In Erisea,” Reagan went on, “I asked the Barrows if they knew any advocates who might know more. Alameda had ties to some of those people. A cousin of hers is deceased now, but she used to speak openly about the threats she received. Threats to her life. She said she doesn’t have contact with any advocates anymore.
A few of those heads left the country. Others simply vanished.
No records, no court listings, no way to contact them. ”
“For what reason?” I asked, feeling their eyes boring into me. “If humans and hybrids are disappearing, what is being done to them?”
Reagan met my gaze, his fingers stopping their tapping on the table. “I don’t know yet, but we need to find out.”