Chapter Fifteen
We were all in my chambers, away from prying ears. Twobble and Skonk sat next to the window, with their little fingers in bags of homemade croutons for whatever reason, while Nova paced back and forth next to them. Stella glanced at Bella, and something unsaid was traded between them.
I opened a jewelry box on my dresser and pulled out the butterfly pendant Grandma Elira had given me so long ago. I turned it over and looked at the moonstone from Twobble in it.
And I realized something. The constant buzz and burning along my shadow mark had calmed. I put the pendant back down on the dresser, and the familiar searing ran through my scar.
“What are you doing?” Twobble asked.
“Ever since my injury, the scar has either itched, felt chilled, or seared with pain, and I've just learned to live with it. But the moment I pick this up, it disappears.” I fastened it around my neck and glanced at Nova.
“That is an important piece,” she said.
“I wore it at the beginning of all this. My grandma said it would guide me. But when everything was happening with Malore, I took it off. I didn't want to lose it.”
Nova smiled and nodded. “Oh, dear Hedge Witch. You wouldn't be able to lose that even if you tried. Wear it for protection now. It is no coincidence that it is blocking the shadows’ reach.”
“If all else fails, maybe it will help with some cooking spells,” Twobble said with a chuckle.
“Thanks for that, Twobs.” I eyed him as a text came over my phone.
I’d left Celeste a voicemail explaining everything as best I could without sounding like an overprotective mom, but in the magical world, did such a thing exist? I finally got a text back.
Mom, I’ll totally be fine. Keegan should be there with you.
I wrote back immediately.
It's not up for debate. Keegan can fill you in more when he arrives.
Caleb walked into my room and shut the door behind him. “Sorry for being late.”
“You're not late, I am,” my dad echoed behind him.
Caleb stepped aside, and my father came into view with his coat half-buttoned and his hair windswept, like he’d argued with the weather and lost.
For a second, the room shifted around him. Whether his father ever wanted to admit it or not, my dad had presence… alpha presence.
But here he was, a man again, not tucked near the hearth with wrinkly bulldog jowls and a bow tie, not snoring through important conversations like a furry little foghorn, but my dad.
My father.
Standing in my chambers while we planned how to walk into danger.
The ache that hit me was quick and sharp, and I hated that there had never been time to sit with it.
“You’re not late,” I said softly. “We’re just… catastrophically early.”
Twobble stopped chewing. “That’s a good phrase. I’m stealing it.”
“You steal everything,” Stella said.
“Not everything,” Skonk argued, reaching into the crouton bag. “Some things are borrowed with no intention of returning. Still counts as borrowing.”
“That’s theft,” Bella pointed out.
Skonk shrugged. “Sounds less rude when I say it.”
My dad’s gaze flicked to the bags in their laps. “Are those croutons?”
“Yes,” Twobble said defensively. Planning food. It’s got crunch while being coated with butter that doesn’t rub off.”
“Planning food?” I repeated.
“You don’t want greasy fingers during strategy,” Skonk explained. “Croutons are practical. Crunchy. Portable. Emotionally sturdy.”
Stella pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I have lived far too long to be surprised, and yet here I am.”
Nova stopped pacing and turned toward my father. “Frank, did you sense anything near the outer edge?”
He nodded, and the humor drained from the room like someone had pulled a plug.
“The woods are too quiet, especially the Wilds.” His voice was low and rough, still new in its human form, still familiar in all the ways that mattered. “But the Wilds aren’t empty. They’re filled with shifters and orcs alike. This is just eerily quiet. There’s a difference.”
Bella’s expression sharpened. “A hunting quiet.”
He nodded once. “Something is waiting for us to make a move.”
“Then we don’t make the move she expects,” Caleb said, folding his arms across his chest.
I glanced at him. “You sound like you already have something in mind.”
“I have several things in mind,” he replied. “Most of them involve not walking straight through her front door.”
Twobble raised one crouton. “I second that. Doors are traps with hinges and locks.”
“The Priestess will expect Wards to be tested at the perimeter,” Nova said, resuming her pacing, though slower now. “She will expect Maeve to come emotionally. Recklessly. She will expect a mother who is frightened for her daughter and desperate for her own mother.”
“Well,” I muttered, “unfortunately, she’s not completely wrong.”
Stella’s gaze softened. “Fear doesn’t make you reckless, darling. Acting without tea does.”
“I’m not sure that’s the official distinction.”
“It should be.”
Ardetia had been quiet near the fireplace. Her gaze fixed on a point in the air no one else could see. She pulled her fingers into the sleeves of her pale gown as she thought. When she finally spoke, we listened.
“The Priestess’ compound isn’t merely guarded. It’s layered. Fae sight can catch the seams and layers.”
“Can you see them?” I asked, studying her.
She looked like she was heavily weighing things that I hadn’t even thought about yet.
Ardetia hesitated, which was never comforting.
“Many,” she said carefully. “I walked along her perimeter. It’s concerning.”
“More importantly, when did you do this?” Twobble asked, tossing a crouton in his mouth.
She looked at Twobble. “I went when the orcs first arrived. I wanted to see if I could pick up any residue to ensure that none of the orcs had come from the Priestess’ compound.”
“You shouldn’t have gone alone.” Stella shook her head.
Ardetia forged ahead. “The outer edge is bound shadowcraft. It can be felt everywhere.” She glanced at Nova. “The inner circle is bloodline magic.”
Twobble and Skonk traded worried glances.
“That tracks with Maeve’s mom being there. She’s able to manipulate magic purely off the proximity of her daughter,” Caleb said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What about the center? The heart of the compound,” my dad asked.
“The center…” Ardetia’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “The center feels wrong.”
“Wrong how?” Caleb asked.
Ardetia didn’t pace or sigh. She straightened and brought her gaze to mine. “Hungry.”
The word settled deep in my bones as my fingers went to the butterfly pendant hanging around my neck.
“That’s where my mom is,” I whispered.
Nova met my eyes. “Possibly.”
“Please don’t use seer words with me right now.” I shook my head. “No vagueness. The dungeons are in the center of her compound. When I went to rescue Gideon, I saw enough of the layout to know that much.”
Her lips curved, but there was no humor in them. “Likely.”
My dad took a step toward me. “Then I’ll go in.”
“No,” I said immediately.
His brows lifted in surprise.
I recognized that look. I’d seen it on the bulldog’s face plenty of times, usually right before he ignored me and waddled toward a pastry he had no business eating. But now he was a man…my dad.
“You are not bulldog-stubborning your way into this,” I said. “You can’t just knock on the front door and expect to survive.”
“I can distract.”
I shook my head. “I'm not trading one parent for the other. We can't be reckless.”
“I’m your father.” He winked at me.
“And I’m your daughter,” I said. “Which means I inherited the stubbornness that you display so proudly, and I have improved upon it.”
Twobble sucked in a breath. “Bold claim.”
“Accurate claim,” Stella murmured, and I shot her a glance.
But my dad didn’t smile. “Your mother is my responsibility, too. This doesn't just rest on your shoulders, Maeve.”
For so many years, my parents had been a collection of absences, half-truths, grief, and so many things I hadn’t understood until recently. But now they were real people standing on opposite sides of danger, and I wasn’t going to choose.
“I know,” I said, softening.
His jaw tightened, and I could see the argument building, but Nova stepped in before it could launch.
“Maeve is right. The Priestess is interested in the bloodline. Each piece carries weight, and we have to be careful which pieces we place on the board.”
“Pieces,” my dad muttered.
Nova gave him a sympathetic look. “Living pieces. Loved pieces. Still pieces.”
“She’s always needed to work on her delivery,” Skonk said around a crouton.
“Yes,” Twobble agreed. “Still mildly offensive.”
Bella came closer, fox grace in every step. “We need two teams.”
“I agree.” Caleb nodded. “We need one that’s visible and one that isn’t.”
My stomach tightened. “A decoy. I don’t like the sounds of making one group a target.”
“A believable one,” Bella said, ignoring what I said. “The Priestess thinks she understands your heart, so we give her something emotional enough to look real.”
“Are you going back to using my dad?”
Nova moved to my small writing desk and pulled a blank sheet of parchment closer. “The visible team approaches the edge of the compound but doesn’t enter. They let the Priestess’ watchers see conflict. Hesitation. Maybe even disagreement.”
“Who?” I asked, not liking how it was leading back to my dad.
“Frank,” Nova said. “Possibly Caleb. Stella.”
My gaze snapped to Stella. “Absolutely not.”
The vampire witch looked delighted. “Oh, finally. A terrible idea with flair that I get to be a part of.”
I shook my head and grunted. “You’re not going to be bait.”
“Darling, I’ve been bait before. I’m excellent at it.”
“Why do I feel like this was decided long before I ever stepped into this room?”
“There have been discussions,” Nova said softly. “You can’t do everything.”
I nodded, glancing over at Twobble.
“For the record, I told them you wouldn’t be thrilled with sending Frank in.” Twobble cracked his bony knuckles. “And I was right.”