Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VICTORIA
The bioluminescence extraction required precision I wasn’t sure I could maintain with half the pack watching me work.
I sat cross-legged on the blanket in the clearing, six sealed vials arranged in front of me.
The fungi samples glowed orange in the late afternoon sun, their light stronger in shadow.
I’d been coaxing the compound out using temperature variation.
Heat to activate and cold to stabilize, back and forth until the residue separated from the base material.
My enchanted pen hovered above my notebook, ready to record observations as I dictated them.
“Sample four shows sustained luminescence after compound separation, suggesting magical rather than purely chemical origin. The glow persists independent of the original organic matter, which—”
Movement in my peripheral vision made me pause. Robin had drifted closer to the edge of my workspace, giving up on weeding the garden bed to stare at the glowing vials. Maria and Tessa had stopped sparring and were leaning against a training post with their attention fixed in my direction.
I noted it mentally. Pack proximity increasing. Possible territorial concern about unknown compounds.
Acorn lay belly-up in a patch of sun beside me, all four paws and his tail splayed out. His eyes were closed. His whiskers twitched. He was probably dreaming about food.
I turned back to my work, using a small flame spell to heat the base of vial five. The compound inside began to separate, luminescent particles rising through the liquid like tiny stars.
My pen traced a small arc in the air as I prepared to dictate the next observation.
The motion triggered the memory of Feral’s finger moving across the map this morning. Pack seal sites, he’d said. Ancient boundary magic. Two dozen scattered across the territory.
I went still mid-reach for the fifth vial.
The pen wrote “Sample five demonstrates…” and waited.
I didn’t finish the sentence.
The duskburst locations. The seal sites. I hadn’t compared them yet, but a pattern was forming in my mind. The way the plants had clustered near specific points along the creek, deliberate rather than random.
I lowered my hand.
“Lady Victoria?” Robin’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Are those vials safe to have out here in the open?”
I blinked, refocusing. “Of course. The compound is stable at ambient temperature. There’s no risk of contamination or combustion.”
“They’re beautiful,” he said, moving a step closer. “Like captured fireflies.”
“The luminescence operates on a similar principle, actually. Bioluminescent organisms use—” I stopped myself. Robin didn’t need a lecture on chemical reactions. “They’re harmless. Just pretty.”
He nodded and went back to his weeding, though his gaze kept drifting to me.
I finished the extraction with less focus than I’d started with, my movements automatic. The correlation sat in my head, demanding attention I couldn’t give here.
When I’d sealed the last vial and made my final notation, I packed everything into my carrying case.
Robin glanced over as I stood. “Heading in already?”
“I need to cross-reference these results with previous data.” It was true enough. Just not the data he was thinking of.
I headed for the stairs, Acorn scrambling to catch up.
It took me longer than I liked to reach the top floor. Where was my ride when I needed him?
My snort of laughter rang out, drawing a frown from Acorn.
The laboratory door clicked shut behind me.
Acorn hopped onto the windowsill where I’d placed his basket to catch the sun, and I placed my notebooks and case on my main work table.
I pulled out the duskburst field sketches with the location diagrams I’d made at the creek, each plant marked with careful notation about soil composition, sun exposure, and proximity to water. Five specimens total, distributed in a pattern that had felt deliberate even then.
Next came the hard part.
Feral’s map existed only in my memory, but I was good at remembering things when I needed to.
I sat at my desk and drew, recreating the territory outline and the small symbols he’d marked.
Pack seal sites. Two dozen overall, he’d said, though only a portion of them were located in the northern section.
I placed each marker where I remembered seeing it. When I finished, I laid both sheets beside each other on the desk. Then I stood back.
The correlation was too clean.
Every duskburst plant I’d found appeared to sit within close proximity to a seal. Not near one or two, but all of them. The distance varied, but the pattern held. Plant, seal, plant, seal, mapped across the northern tributaries in a way that couldn’t be coincidence.
My enchanted pen lifted off the desk without being told and began taking notes in rapid script.
“Geographic correlation between duskburst specimens and pack seal locations suggests deliberate placement. Indigenous range for duskburst does not include creek tributaries. Soil composition is incompatible with natural growth. Conclusion: Someone might have planted them there.”
I had half the picture. The question was why. The answer required information I didn’t have access to here.
I needed flistworn root extract, an astringent base, for a separate experiment I’d been putting off.
The kitchen kept medicinal supplies on the third shelf, on the east wall.
Helen had mentioned this the last time I was there.
This would be a perfect excuse to do some snooping.
I had a feeling my version of snooping would end up being asking Helen directly, but the ingredient gave me a reason to be there.
I grabbed my ingredient list and headed back downstairs, Acorn keeping pace behind me.
The kitchen smelled like roasting meat and something sweet I couldn’t identify.
Heat rolled from the ovens, and at least six people strode around the space.
Helen stood at the central prep table, scooping up cookie dough and placing it on a baking sheet with the fierce attention she gave everything.
I walked over to join her.
She glanced up, the spoon hovering in the air. “Victoria.”
“I need flistworn root extract. The concentrated kind, not the diluted preparation.”
“Third shelf, east wall. Blue jar with the yellow label. Measure it yourself. I’m not your assistant.”
I respected the way she didn’t defer to me. “Thank you.”
While I crossed to the shelf, Acorn launched himself toward a small bowl sitting on the floor near the hearth. I’d seen it before but hadn’t thought much about it. Just another bowl in a kitchen full of them.
I located the jar, measured out the amount I needed into a small vial from my pocket, and was replacing the jar when Helen spoke again.
“Your squirrel’s been fed.”
I turned.
Acorn had his face in the bowl, his cheeks already bulging. He pulled out a piece of dried fruit, examined it before stuffing it into his mouth with the others.
“The alpha asked me to keep food stocked for the little one,” Helen said without looking up from her task. “Specific instructions. No salt. Fresh or dried only.”
My chest did something I didn’t have time to examine.
Acorn grabbed another piece of fruit and scampered over to leap onto my shoulder with his cheeks so full his face looked lopsided.
I tucked the vial into my pocket. My brain was already half back in the laboratory, running through the correlation again. “I found duskburst growing near the northern water tributaries.”
The words came out casual, like I was thinking out loud, but I watched the staff.
Helen’s hands slowed.
“It doesn’t belong there,” I said. “The soil composition doesn’t fit. There’s no drainage, too much moisture, and it has the wrong sun exposure. I think someone may have planted it there.”
She looked up, her gaze meeting mine. “The old alpha used to have us gather that for his ceremonies. He never said what it was for. Just that it mattered.”
“Ceremonies?”
“He performed them in specific locations, though he didn’t talk much about them. Alpha business. You know how that is.”
I didn’t, not related to this, but I nodded.
“In the north?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I believe so. He headed in that direction.”
“You watched.”
“Not purposefully. I was at the sink once, washing dishes, when he left. I suspect they were important.”
She went back to her work.
I blinked a few times, my heart rate spiking.
“Thank you,” I said, turning for the door.
I left at a pace that was not quite running but was definitely the fastest I could walk without making it obvious I was running.
Acorn bobbed on my shoulder, still chewing.
I made it halfway across the main hall before Maria intercepted me. She sat at one of the outdoor tables, cleaning her fingernails with a blade the length of her forearm.
“How are you settling in?” she called out.
I paused, shifting my weight, aching to bolt to my lab. But the polite thing to do was stop and answer.
“The sleeping arrangements are fine,” I said. “The laboratory I’ve created in the old alpha’s office suits my needs well. I find the pack dynamics here genuinely interesting as a social system. They’re much more collaborative than I expected from my research into hierarchical structure.”
Maria laughed. “You sound like you’re writing a report.”
“I suppose I do.” I hadn’t meant it to be funny.
She worked on another nail with her blade. “You’re good for him.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“The alpha.” She flicked a fingernail across the table in front of her. It skidded and dropped over the edge, landing on the floor. “He’s different since the wedding. Lighter. Even with all of this.” She gestured at the compound in general. “He smiles more. Sleeps better, from what I hear.”
My throat went tight. “He’s under a great deal of pressure. Small improvements in sleep and nutrition would account for a mood shift.”
Maria gave me the kind of look that said she knew exactly what I was doing, but she wasn’t going to push. She went back to her nails.
I filed her observation away in the place where I kept things I wasn’t ready to think about yet. Though her statements made warmth unfurl in my chest.
Acorn said nothing. This, somehow, was worse than when he did.
I climbed the stairs fast.
Back in the laboratory, I added the extract to my secondary experiment with one hand while my brain stayed somewhere else.
The pen hovered beside my notebook, waiting for dictation.
I ignored it.
Instead I went over to my desk and studied the two overlaid maps. Duskburst locations. Seal sites. The pattern so clean it felt like someone had drawn me a diagram.
I started pacing. Three steps one direction, pivot, three steps back. The familiar rhythm helped me think.
Acorn watched from the windowsill with the detached interest he usually reserved for birds.
When I strode near him, I randomly noted the things he’d collected in his basket. Bits of string, interesting stones, and an acorn cap.
Plus a neat pile of duskburst sprigs. Purple and white flowers, dried in the sun. At least six or seven of them, arranged with the same careful attention he gave his acorn hoard.
I’d seen them multiple times, actually. They’d been in my peripheral vision for days. But I looked at them now.
Backing away, I sat down in front of my desk, tugging my notebook in front of me.
Acorn started grooming himself on the windowsill. One paw, then the other. He murmured to himself in that absent way he did when he thought I wasn’t listening, half in my mind and half the soft chittering that filled the space.
I started writing down my thoughts. Sort of listening. Sort of not listening.
The root-mark places, bound and old, drink deep of what the duskburst holds.
I stopped my pen mid-word and turned to look at him.
Acorn was tucking another duskburst sprig into his pile, smoothing it with both paws.
“Hey.”
He looked up and blinked.
“What did you say?”
Root-marks drink the duskburst bloom.
Root-marks. An old term I hadn’t heard before, but the meaning was clear. It spoke of seal sites, and the locations Feral had pointed out on his map that morning.
I stood up so fast the chair scraped across the floor.
Acorn went back to grooming.
I moved fast, pulling my duskburst sketches out to spread across the desk.
I grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and redrew the seal-site map larger and more detailed.
Then I wrote Helen’s statement down word for word, dated it, and noted the context.
Acorn’s rhyme followed, written in his exact phrasing. I underlined it twice.
The cross-reference formed itself in my head even as my hands moved.
Duskburst could be a component used in pack rituals. Helen had confirmed the old alpha used it in ceremonies. But the duskburst wasn’t indigenous to the creek region.
The question was whether someone had planted it for a reason or if the placement was random.
It was time I questioned my grandmother.
I pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward me and began dictating to my pen.
Grandmother Elizabeth, I require information regarding wolf pack ceremonial practices, border seals, and duskburst. Any historical references you can provide would be invaluable. Please respond soon. —Victoria
I read it over twice, making small adjustments to the wording. She’d understand the shape of the questions. She always did. I didn’t include everything I knew. Just what I needed answered.
The sprite bell sat in my supply kit, tucked between my magnification lenses and spare vials. I pulled it out and rang it once, the tone high and clear, tuned to a frequency most creatures couldn’t hear.
Within minutes, a sprite appeared at my window. Smaller than my thumb, his wings beating so fast they blurred.
I handed over the letter, sealed with a small wax mark.
“For Mistress Elizabeth Thornwick. Urgent,” I said.
The sprite took it in both tiny hands and flitted away in a shower of sparks.
I watched it go, my hand still raised.
I should find Feral and tell him what I’d found, but I needed the full picture first. And if I was right about my theory, the implications extended beyond a broken seal in a creek bed.
I walked over to the window where Acorn’s duskburst hoard sat in its basket and picked up one of the sprigs. Turned it over in my hand. The purple and white petals had dried perfectly, their color still vibrant.
Acorn blinked up at me from his bed.
I set the sprig back carefully, exactly where he’d placed it.
“Good job,” I said.
His tail flicked once. He tucked his nose under it and started drifting to sleep.
I returned to my desk and pulled my regular experiments back toward me. The bioluminescence extraction still needed final documentation. The crystallization study required another temperature adjustment.
All work I could do while I waited for my grandmother’s answer.
The pen hovered beside my notebook, ready, and I started dictating.