Chapter 26 #2
Connor began leafing through her books for any hidden documents.
He found a few pieces of heirloom jewelry and other items as he searched but nothing that would be beneficial to their investigation.
He hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to go through her things, but the tremor in his hands as he picked up one of her books on magic belied the truth.
His head began pounding sharply as he flipped through the book.
It was very old, passed down through her family from ancient days.
Probably the most valuable book in her collection, as it pre-dated the wars.
The magic-treated pages ensured the book held up over hundreds of years.
Many of the world’s books had been destroyed during the war-torn period of their history.
When he tried to ignore the headache, visual echoes spun like shadows in his mind. Foggy memories trying to surface.
Setting down the book—which he knew was willed to him along with many of her other belongings—he tried to relax his mind and let the memories come.
He’d learned that the more he fought the memories, the sharper the pain became and the harder the emotional punch.
He couldn’t afford to be compromised right now, so he let it come easily into his mind.
The shadows lightened as he settled his breathing into a slow rhythm, the images coming into focus.
Sitting in front of the fire, Connor read through one of Ali’s books.
More feeling than reading, technically. He loved the feel of the ancient, magic-treated pages beneath his fingers.
They had a distinct feel, as if the magic coating each page rippled beneath his fingers, tracking along with him as he read.
It was his favorite book in her collection, and she’d promised he could have it one day when he grew up.
His mother’s laughter swirled through the room. “Ali! That’s not what I meant.”
“It is! You just don’t want to admit it.” Alison grinned at Connor when he looked up from the book. “Tell her I’m right, Con.”
He didn’t quite understand what they were discussing—something about the way his family chose names with the same letter for all the children of each generation—but he could tell from their vocal tones that Alison was winning whatever debate they were having.
Alison liked to debate things and always made the conversation lively. It was always fun to listen to her argue with someone, even when that someone was his mother.
“I agree with Ali,” he said conspiratorially.
Alison winked at him. “Two against one, Davina, you’ll just have to give in and admit that we’re right.”
His mother put her hand on her heavily pregnant belly and laughed again. “You two, honestly.”
“What are we right about?” Connor whisper-asked Alison.
“That your mother, great mighty warrior that she is, is afraid to tell her aunt that the royal naming convention is silly. None of the other royal families in the other realms name all their children with the same letter. It’s ridiculous.
” Alison turned back to Davina. “You’re having trouble naming your second, what if you have eight! ?”
Connor laughed at the aghast look on Alison’s face and her big hand gestures.
His mother rolled her eyes. “Three! I’m having three children, not eight. For goodness’s sake! I’d never make it back to the field.”
“Well, that would truly be a real tragedy,” Alison said. She was still smiling, but her tone had turned serious. “We missed you on the last mission. No one has a sword arm like you, myself included.”
“And I despise sitting behind a desk. Very soon, now.” She rubbed her giant belly. “Thank goodness this one is a girl. The queen can stop harassing us about lineage and we can wait longer before the next one.”
Alison chuckled. “I bet she already has a soul-guardian picked out for her grandniece.”
“Several,” his mother sighed and shook her head.
“I just don’t like any of them. A soul-guardian should be more than politics, even if, as my first daughter, she is destined to be matriarch after me.
She should have a true guardian, like you are for Connor.
I want that for all my children, no matter what their futures hold. ”
“I’m sure the queen wasn’t pleased with you naming me Connor’s soul-guardian at the time, but it means a lot to me. You know that, right?”
“I do.” She reached out to grasp Alison’s hand. “It means a lot to me, too.”
With an unsteady breath, Connor tried to shake off the memory. Needing a moment, he leaned against the bookcase and closed his eyes to block the view of the familiar space. To shut out the image of Alison and his mother sitting in the chairs across from him.
“You okay?” Ryan asked, pausing as he went through an open file drawer.
“Yeah. Just…” Connor ran his hand through his hair. “Upsetting.”
“We’ll get her,” Ryan promised. “And anyone she’s working with.”
“I know.” That wasn’t the upsetting part. At the moment, his history… his memories of the Alison who had been his guiding force were plaguing him. Making his heart heavy and his steps slow.
He stared at the familiar painting on the wall opposite the desk while he gathered his emotions and reordered them to focus on what was important.
The prominent mantle had been redone since he’d been a child.
The dark ebony wood was gleaming with a high polish and carved swirls along the edges.
The top was designed as a ledge, wide enough to boast mementos.
She had a few books he knew were family records displayed in the center with small keepsakes on either side.
Something about it tugged at him. The mantle was still a statement piece, framed from the room’s entrance, but bigger now. Breaking, entering, and hiding things was Thalia’s specialty, not his. He turned just as she came back into the den.
“Tals, come take a closer look at this.”
“Got something?” she asked.
“Yeah, maybe. The mantle didn’t always look like this. She rebuilt it… I don’t know… ten years ago, maybe? Long enough I’d forgotten.”
“Before or after your mother died?”
“Definitely after,” he said.
“Could have a hidden compartment,” she surmised. Her eyes flicked to study the piece, cataloging information Connor didn’t see when he looked at it. “If it does, it’s a slim one, though. Look for a way to open it. There will be a latch, maybe two.”
They started from opposite ends, working along the carved edges.
“Got one,” Thalia said quickly. “Check the inside wall, about a foot from the end.”
He felt where she indicated, running his fingers over the spot a few times until he felt the slight difference. He nodded to let her know he’d found it.
“On three,” Thalia counted, and they triggered the paired latches.
The mantle released with a deep click as the center portion dropped down into a drawer. Thalia pulled it out a few inches. A small glass vial rolled to the front of the compartment, sucking the last remnant of hope from Connor’s heart.
It looked the same as the ones Celina had found at the fortress when she’d escaped from her interrogation and searched the captain’s quarters for useful information. She’d discovered three unused vials of the magic-blocking drug in his belongings and brought them home.
Morgan had asked Celina to keep two of the three vials secret, only turning in one to the military as part of the official debriefing.
There was no way this was that third vial, hidden in a private office.
It was under the highest scrutiny right now as a breakthrough piece of evidence for the lightning team division that handled foreign rescues—Morgan’s division.
This had to be a fourth vial, given to Alison by someone else. Secretly. Part of him still hoped that she’d collected it as part of an investigation. That it wasn’t for a nefarious reason. But why else would she have it?
The drug was nasty for mages. Celina had described the effects of being under its influence in detail.
The excruciating pain of it blocking off her magic, the intensity heightening when she’d tried to use her magic.
The threat of dying under a second dose if she were still in a weakened state of health when it was administered.
The information Celina had gathered while at the fortress led them to believe that the drug was still in trial phases, especially for adults.
The children who’d been dosed didn’t have the same painful effects as Celina had experienced, but it didn’t mean they were unscathed either.
Only time would tell if there were lasting effects from its use.
Connor hadn’t wanted to believe Devryn. But he was holding evidence of Alison’s betrayal in his hand. Squeezing the vial in his fist, he allowed the bitterness and anger that rose to blanket his heartache as the last thread he’d been holding onto snapped.
He picked up a small field notebook that lay in the secret drawer. Opening it was a task of willpower, as he was afraid of what he might find. The sketch of an ancient symbol shone back at him, seeming to blaze in his mind’s eye in the dim light of the room.
Flipping the page revealed another symbol, then another.
Eight total. All of them were vaguely familiar, but that last one…
he’d been drawing it at Daya’s. Over and over again.
The other symbols that plagued his mind weren’t any of the eight in the notebook, just the one. Still… it had to be connected.
He walked over to the desk and offered the open notebook to his partner. “Look at this, Ry. Tell me everything you know about it.”
Ryan’s eyebrows dipped as it looked at it and then back up at Connor. “It’s a symbol in the old language. Water, I think. But I’d have to double check.”
Sharp pain pounded in his head again, and he massaged his temple. “I’ve been drawing this symbol and a few others since I was injured. They’re important. I just can’t remember why.”
“I have a book at home on the old language. I’ll pull it out and you can see if it jogs your memory.”