Chapter 26
Tehvan
Tehvan approached Thorn's office with measured steps, though his heart hammered against his ribs with each footfall. The ring on his finger pulsed steadily with Elora's heartbeat—alive, though he was sure she had barely survived the night prior. Her heart rate hadn’t slowed for hours. Fear, then rage, then an emotion he didn’t want to name or even consider, followed by more fear.
It was impossible to know what happened, he could only focus on that fact that she was alive. That’s what was most important.
Tehvan pushed the heavy oak door of Thorn’s office open just as a crystal decanter sailed through the air, missing his head by mere inches before exploding against the doorframe behind him.
Crystalline fragments rained down on his shoulders as he stepped inside.
The normally pristine office looked like a battlefield—overturned chairs, scattered documents, alchemical vials smashed across the floor.
"Abernathy?" he said, quickly closing the door behind him. His brother was hunched over documents on his desk, shoulders heaving, hands braced against the edge.
He straightened at the sound of his name, drawing himself up to his full height.
Tehvan could see the careful mask sliding back into place, the attempt to appear controlled and rational.
But his eyes betrayed him—wild, unfocused, barely contained rage simmering just beneath the surface.
A thin line of blood trickled from where glass had cut his temple.
"Tehvan." Abernathy's voice was carefully modulated, but Tehvan could hear the tremor underneath. "Forgive the... disorder. I was conducting some research."
Tehvan almost huffed at the lie. He contemplated opening the door wide. Let the guards and students see their headmaster as the unhinged madman he truly was. Let them witness how completely Elora's escape had shattered his composure.
"What's happened?" Tehvan asked, stepping carefully around the debris. "You seem... unsettled."
Abernathy's jaw clenched, and for a moment, the mask slipped again. His hands trembled as he reached for a chair, gripping its back until his knuckles went white. He took several ragged, uneven breaths, his eyes fixed on a point just above Tehvan’s left shoulder.
The man looked as if he might sentence him to death if Tehvan so much as whispered the wrong word.
"Fane is dead." He forced out the syllables as if each one threatened to unleash the chaos unraveling within him if he gave the words too much weight.
Tehvan felt a surge of relief so powerful it nearly buckled his knees. One of the Empire's most elite bounty hunters, the man who could track a shadow across a moonless night—dead. And Elora was still alive. Tehvan fought to transform his instinctive sigh of relief into an expression of shock.
"Dead? How is that possible?" He stepped closer, allowing genuine concern to crease his brows. "Fane was one of the best. What could have—"
Abernathy’s hand smacked the desk, causing the alcohol in his glass to vibrate over the edge. "She got away from him," he interrupted, his voice rising before he caught himself and forced it back down. "Somehow, that little miscreant managed to escape from Fane himself. She must have had help."
The suggestion hung in the air, and Tehvan watched as Abernathy's paranoia seized upon it. But he knew better. Elora was far too intelligent to trust anyone. He had warned her not to. She wouldn’t disobey him.
"I don't think so," Tehvan said carefully.
"She'd be too terrified to trust anyone.
You know how these bounty hunters operate—they form packs like wolves when there's a prize this valuable.
Fane probably got caught in the crossfire, taken down by competitors eager to claim the reward for themselves. "
Thorn's eyes narrowed, but Tehvan pressed on. "She had nothing to do with his death directly. She's not a killer, Abernathy. She's a scared girl running for her life."
"The report said he was mauled," Thorn spat. "Claws. Deep gouges. That's not the work of human bounty hunters." His gaze snapped to Tehvan with sudden intensity. "It was that nightglider. The one that helped her escape. Had to be."
Tehvan nodded slowly, as if considering this revelation.
He didn’t like the idea of Elora traveling with an Al’teran.
The Empire’s enemies to the north hated them, their use of alchemy and Mahōamorah’s blessings.
He couldn’t see an Al’teran helping Elora, even if she did set him free.
But the man—the Thrask—did save her from Thorn. Tehvan couldn’t deny that.
"What do you plan to do now?" he asked, dreading the answer.
Abernathy moved to the large map on the wall, his finger tracing the markings towards The Whispering Woods.
"Based on where Fane's body was found, she's moving inland.
" His finger stopped at two cities marked in red ink.
"Aszona or Kilfaire. Those are her only real options for reaching a ship that can stow her out of The Empire. "
"I've already sent orders to both cities," Thorn continued.
"Increased guards, sharper eyes. Every gate, every port, every back alley will be watched.
" He looked up from the map, and Tehvan saw something that chilled him to the bone.
The fevered gleam in his eyes, the way his wounded pride had twisted into something darker and more dangerous.
"But guards can be bribed. Loyalty can be bought. I need something more... personal."
Tehvan took a step back, kicking some shattered glass. He knew where this was going. Towards exactly what he feared Thorn wouldn’t consider.
"There are mercenary groups in both cities," Abernathy said, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow felt more threatening than a shout.
"Cutthroats, ex-legionnaires, even some former shadow operatives.
They're all hungry. For coin, for standing, for the next mark on their ledger.
" Thorn plucked a broken quill off the floor and rolled it between his fingers.
He made a show of snapping it in half. "All it takes is one well-placed offer and the promise of a bonus for creativity.
They'll find her long before the city patrols ever get close. And unlike the city patrols…they won’t falter. "
Tehvan's palms grew slick with sweat. “I’m not helping you kill her. I want her back here. Alive.”
Abernathy’s laugh was sharp as a bone saw, echoing off the stone and polished wood. He let the pieces of broken quill drop, hands coming together in a deliberate steeple. “You can’t be serious. After all this, you expect to dictate terms to me?”
Tehvan stood taller, refusing to be drawn in. “You want her alive. She’s worth more—”
“You think I want her corpse paraded through the city by drunken mercenaries? No. I want her broken. I want her begging for the comfort of a cage.” Thorn spat, voice cracking.
“You think the Institute’s standing survives a specimen like her running loose?
A living record of all my work. My work, Tehvan.
If she breathes, she belongs to me. If she returns, she will be mine again—body, mind, all of it stripped down and rebuilt so this never happens again.
But if it comes down to her life verses my work, then I have no problem allowing her death to come sooner. ”
Tehvan steeled himself, fighting the urge to choke his brother out.
He pictured Elora’s wild laugh, her vinegar-sharp wit, her thirst for knowledge.
Everything. He needed to compose himself.
The plan would work. She wasn’t headed for Aszona anyway.
There wouldn’t be any chance of old ghosts unknowingly betraying him.
Of past regrets meeting present betrayals.
He balled his hands into fists and pressed them to his sides, knowing Abernathy was studying every micro-expression. All he could do was nod, make his brother believe he held the keys to Elora’s fate.
Abernathy circled back to the map, pressing his thumb hard enough to leave a greasy print over Aszona's southern ward.
"The bounty posts will go up by nightfall.
Twice the usual sum for a body, three times for proof of death.
I want every gutter-crawling leech in that city hunting her.
I want them to fight each other for the right to drag her here, dead or alive.
" He looked up, and Tehvan saw tears threatening to breach Thorn's composure—not sadness, but the kind of frustrated rage that left a taste of copper in your mouth.
Tehvan wondered, not for the first time, if his brother would turn that same fury on him, should he catch even a whiff of disloyalty.
"You’re quiet," Thorn said. "I expect you to grovel, to wheedle, to try to make me see reason. Instead you stand there, silent as a corpse." He stepped closer, despite both brothers being the same height, Thorn’s cold, calculated demeanor towered over Tehvan. "Let’s speak plainly. You want her free. But if she comes back here, even for a moment, you know I’ll break her. I’ll tear her apart, and I’ll make you watch. Hell, I’ll make you participate.”
Tehvan’s breath hitched. Abernathy saw it. He smiled, a ghastly rictus that looked painful to wear.
“So, why are you helping me? If you really cared, you’d join her now. Help her run. Instead, you’re here, shuffling my papers and making plans to catch her and bring her back. Why?"
Tehvan didn’t answer. He stared down at the floor, scanning the massacre of precious vials, the ink-bled memos, the amber pools of booze soaking into custom-stitched rugs.
Everything was unraveling. Abernathy was catching on, soon he would put it together that Tehvan was who helped Elora escape.
And if he did, what would Thorn do? He hated Tehvan for what happened to his niece, but would he condemn his own brother?
Tehvan only had one last card to play to deter Thorn from recapturing Elora. What Thorn actually wanted all along.
“You’re right, Abernathy. I don’t want her back here. Frankly, I’d prefer her be on the other side of the world even if I’m not with her, then risk you ever getting your hands on her again.”
Thorn’s eyes widened. “You betrayed me. You admit it? You helped her escape?”
“No, I didn’t help her. Abernathy, I want her safe and free. Let me find her, let me leave with her, your work protected and out of reach of The Empire and I’ll tell you where to find what you truly want. What you’ve always wanted. What this has always been about.”
For a second he couldn’t tell if Thorn was even breathing. He didn’t blink. A vein bulged in his temple. Finally, containing all his rage behind a thin veil he asked, “What?”
“I’ll tell you where Florence is.”