CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE TREW
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TREW
Istudied the note in Isi’s trembling hands, reading Alfred’s elegant script for the third time. Lord Alfred had wrapped his knowledge in polite language and courtly flourishes, but the threat was clear.
“He’s too dangerous to leave breathing,” I said.
Isi’s eyes met mine, and I saw the same cold calculation I felt settling in my bones.
“If two suitors die within days of each other,” she said quietly, “my father will blame me. He’ll lock down the castle completely. We’ll never get to the dungeons or the west tower.”
“I don’t care.” The words came out flat.
Alfred had spent the entire meal circling Isi like a predator, testing her defenses, searching for weaknesses to exploit.
Men like that didn’t stop until they got what they wanted or someone took care of the matter permanently.
“I’ll kill your father too if necessary. ”
She sucked in a breath.
“I’m serious, Minx.” I moved closer, lowering my voice though my wards held strong.
“Alfred’s smart enough to put together pieces we can’t afford him to have.
We have to assume he’s studied the veil, that he knows about doorways between realms. He appears to have information only a few are privy to.
How long before he suspects what you might be capable of? ”
She pressed her lips together, the note crinkling in her grip. “Killing him now creates more problems than it solves.”
I clenched my jaw.
She was right, and I hated it. Two mysterious deaths, especially high lords of neighboring courts, would draw attention and bring on investigations we couldn’t afford. We needed time to free the prisoners, search the west tower, and find the answers hidden south of Syllavar.
“Yet,” I said. “We don’t kill him yet.”
“Thank you.”
I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek after. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this woman, and I didn’t like feeling restrained.
She leaned into my touch before stepping back, her expression shifting from vulnerable to determined.
“I need you to look at my memory of when my mother died.” She met my gaze despite the tension in her shoulders. “I need to know what really happened.”
I’d done this many times before when I needed to verify truth or extract information, but this was different. This was Isi asking me to invade one of her most traumatic memories, to witness her grief through her own eyes.
“Isi—”
“Please.” Her voice didn’t waver. “Mae said someone pushed her. She mentioned someone named Eva. I found my mother dead at the base of the stairs, but I was young. I could’ve missed something or blocked the memory. You might see details I didn’t notice, details that could make a difference now.”
I gripped her shoulders, needing her to understand what she was asking.
“Entering someone’s memories and sorting through them is intimate and invasive.
I’ll see everything you felt in that moment, every detail your mind imprinted.
And other memories might surface, things you’ve buried, things you’d rather I didn’t see. ”
“There isn’t anything in my mind I wouldn’t want you to see.”
“There could be. This won’t be pleasant for either of us. It’ll be uncomfortable. You might feel pressure, disorientation, maybe nausea, though it won’t hurt. I’ll experience everything through your eyes, and you’ll feel me in your mind, sifting through moments that caused you great pain.”
Pherin landed on Isi’s shoulder. The bird’s head swiveled between us, sensing the tension.
“I need to know the truth,” Isi said. “Please, Trew. I want you to do this.”
I searched her face, looking for any hesitation or doubt, but I found none. Just fierce determination and desperate hope.
“Alright.” I released her shoulders. “But not here. There are too many guards in the corridor, too many potential interruptions. We need somewhere more secure.”
“My bedroom.”
We left the parlor, her father’s guards following us up the stairs to her suite, where I stepped inside with her. The guard from last night wasn’t working, and these must not have received the same directive, because they allowed us to shut the door in their faces without protest.
It wouldn’t last, however. We had to act fast.
I followed her through the sitting room into her private chambers. Isi closed the door and turned to face me.
I moved to the window first, checking the courtyard below that was empty except for a few servants going about their duties. Gavelle perched on a branch on the opposite side of the garden, keeping watch, and I told him what I was going to do.
Turning back to Isi, I wove fresh wards, layering them thick and tight. This type of magic drained energy. I was tired from maintaining my magical disguise and from the constant vigilance required in this cursed castle. But I didn’t stop until I was satisfied no one would overhear us.
“Sit.” I gestured to the bed.
Isi settled on the edge of the mattress, her hands folded in her lap. Pherin hopped from her shoulder to the headboard, chittering.
I knelt in front of Isi, positioning myself between her legs, close enough that I felt her warmth and smelled the scented oil her ladies had used in her hair.
“Look at me,” I said softly.
She lifted her gaze, and the trust I saw there made my chest crack wide open. She was giving me access to her most vulnerable self, inviting me into spaces she’d protected for years.
I raised my hands slowly, giving her time to change her mind. When she didn’t pull away, I placed my palms on either side of her face, my fingers resting on her temples.
“I need you to focus on that day. On the moment before you heard the crash. Close your eyes and let me in.”
She obeyed, her lashes dark against her cheeks.
“Don’t fight me when you feel me enter. Don’t try to hide anything or push memories away. Just let it happen.” I stroked her cheeks. “Lean on me, Minx. I’m here for you. I promise.”
Her breath hitched, but she nodded.
I closed my eyes and reached for my magic. The familiar warmth pooled in my chest before extending outward, flowing through my hands into Isi’s temples. I felt the moment contact was made, that jolt of connection that resonated through my entire body.
Then I was falling into memory, into the past, into a ten-year-old girl’s mind.
The parlor smelled of beeswax and dried flowers. Sunlight fell across the wooden floor where I sat, moving my charcoal pencil across parchment in careful strokes to capture a flower’s curved petals.
Mother had promised to check my progress after tea. Mother always kept her promises.
Voices drifted from the foyer. Mother’s voice, musical and warm. Then another, female but muffled. I couldn’t make out the words.
I focused on my drawing, adding shadows.
A sharp cry rang out. Mother?
Then thuds, a crash. My insides twisted with dread, my heart pounding as I dropped my charcoal and ran from the parlor.
I experienced it all through her eyes. The terror that seized her small chest. The way her hands shook as she gripped the doorframe. The paralysis that froze her in place as her gaze found her mother.
Marlane lay at the base of the grand staircase, her neck bent at an angle no living person’s should be. Her eyes stared at nothing. Her beautiful blue gown spread around her like a clear pool.
Isi looked up, up, up, to the top of the staircase.
Her father burst from down the hallway, dragging her attention his way. His face blanched when he saw his wife. He ran to her, fell to his knees beside her body, and gathered her into his arms with a sob that sounded like something breaking.
His grief was real. Raw. Devastating.
He hadn’t pushed her. Couldn’t have. He’d been too far away, and he’d come from the wrong direction. Genuine shock cratered his face.
He reached for the pendant around Marlane’s neck, the crescent moon with pale blue stones circling its curve. After removing it carefully, he slipped it into his pocket.
Guards arrived. Servants rushed into the foyer. People shouted and someone called for healers who couldn’t help. Others tried to pull the king away from his wife’s body.
Young Isi stood frozen. Watching. Her small hands pressed to her mouth to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down her face.
She’d lost her mother, and she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
I pulled away, my hands falling from Isi’s temples.
The present rushed back. Afternoon sun. The hard floor beneath my knees. Pherin chirping anxiously from the headboard.
Disorientation lingered, the edges of the memory blurring my vision for a moment, her young grief echoing in my chest as if it were my own.
Isi sat in front of me, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking. We both breathed heavily, the shared weight pressing down.
“Minx.” Rising, I gripped her shoulders. “Breathe. This world doesn’t get to take anything you don’t want to give.”
She sucked in a ragged breath, then another, her hands clutching my arms.
I sat on the bed and lifted her, placing her in my lap, holding her while her body shook.
Pherin swooped down and landed on Isi’s shoulder, nuzzling her neck.
I held her while she cried. My chest felt tight, my throat raw from experiencing her grief, from witnessing that terrible moment through her eyes. The ache stayed with me, a shadow of her pain I couldn’t shake.
Finally, her breathing steadied, though tremors still ran through her. She pulled back enough to look up at me, her eyes red and swollen, and wiped her face with a lingering shudder.
“Tell me,” she whispered. “What did you see?”
I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “Your father didn’t kill her.”
She went still. “What?”
“He came from a different direction. He wasn’t at the top of the stairs when she fell.” I kept my voice gentle. “And his grief felt real, Isi. I’ve seen enough false emotion to know the difference. I don’t believe he knew it was going to happen.”
“Did you see the woman with red hair?”
“I did. As Mae said, there were two women at the top of the stairs with your mother.” I described what I’d seen. One with a distinctive streak of silver in her dark hair who stumbled back in horror. “She didn’t flee. She stood there, shocked, like she couldn’t believe what had happened.”
“That must’ve been the Eva Mae mentioned.
A silver streak in her hair? I remember her now.
She used to visit my mother.” Her eyes went distant, remembering.
“They always met in private, always when Father was away. I’d see them in the gardens sometimes or in Mother’s sitting room with the door cracked.
They’d speak in low voices, have serious conversations that stopped whenever I got close. She was a friend.”
“The air shimmered at the top of the stairs. I suspect it was either a ward breaking or… This will sound wild, but I think it was a veil disturbance. It has to be. The air rippled unnaturally.” I met her eyes.
“If your mother was practicing veil-travel, and she’d opened a passage right there on the stairs, it could’ve destabilized her. Made her lose her balance.”
“Or the red-haired person could’ve used that moment of vulnerability to push her. If she was distracted by the magic…”
“The magic was there.”
“And Mae said the red-haired woman simply disappeared.” Isi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers digging into my arm. Pherin preened her hair, trying to comfort her in the way only the bird knew how.
“Could you describe the face of the woman with the silver streak?” Isi asked.
I closed my eyes, pulling up the memory. “Maybe fifty. Strong features. Weathered, like she’d spent a lot of time outdoors.”
Isi’s sharp inhale made my eyes snap open.
“I just realized something. The woman in the dungeon.” Her voice shook. “The one who helped me escape, who told me about the grate in the closet ceiling. She had a silver band in her hair, though the rest was speckled with gray. It could be her, Trew, the woman who was there when my mother died.”
My mind raced, connecting the pieces. “Do you think she’s been in that dungeon for sixteen years?”
“I don’t know,” Isi said. “But my father must’ve imprisoned her. Maybe he saw her there and blamed her. Locked her away. She witnessed whatever happened, and she helped me escape.”
“She risked exposing herself to save you. That suggests she’s on our side. Or at least not on your father’s.”
Isi stroked Pherin, her hand unsteady. “She knew my mother well enough to meet with her secretly. Well enough to be there that day. She must know more about this than we do.”
“We need to question her.”
“The guards won’t let us near her, and we can’t risk my father knowing I want to speak with her.”
“I don’t care about them.” I tightened my arms around her. “This woman has been sitting in that cell for who knows how long. If she saw who killed your mother, she might know why. We can’t wait any longer to speak with her.”
“Tonight then.” Isi nodded. “Lexie may be able to distract the guards. And Derren’s joined them. Between the three of them—”
“We’ll get to her.” I cupped her face. “Are you alright? That wasn’t easy.”
“No.” She leaned into my touch, her breath warm against my skin. “But I needed to know. Thank you for looking.”
“There’s one more thing.” I hesitated, because I must be mistaken. “I caught a glimpse—your glimpse—of the other woman on the landing. She truly did disappear.”
Even now, I couldn’t believe it myself.
“But her build, her hair color, and the way she moved…” I took a breath and pushed it out with my words. “She looked like Kira.”
Isi froze, her eyes widening in shock. “Kira? But that’s impossible.”