Chapter 36 #2
Elora’s brows pinched together as she tried to make sense of what she’d witnessed.
“We track our people for protection,” Florence stated. “It’s part of the business.”
“Enchanted thread,” she murmured, her fingertips unconsciously brushing the sleeve of her borrowed robe. “Woven into everything we wear.”
“Sort of. Not every piece of clothing, but something specific to each person that they always should have with them. The spool is enchanted to respond to the thread. The connection is binding—impossible to break without destroying the garment itself.”
Rell made eye contact with her across the table, gently tugging on the black leather coat he always wore.
“Blood would be more precise,” Elora said, more to herself than Florence. “That’s how tracking enchantments usually work.”
Florence’s expression didn’t change. “Yes,” she admitted. “Blood tracking is more precise. But time isn’t on our side, and Symond only donated one vial.”
“And that was used for the monitoring system,” Elora concluded, glancing back at the spool still sitting motionless on the map.
“This is the best information we have right now,” Florence said, her tone suggesting the matter was closed.
“We’ll deploy four teams. Each pair will scout a quadrant—streets, buildings, upper levels, underground passages.
Everywhere.” Her finger traced each section methodically.
“You are to locate only, not engage. We regroup before taking action.”
“The goal is to recover Symond alive,” Florence said, “but equally important is capturing whoever is responsible.” Her eyes hardened. “We need answers, and the dead don’t talk. Killing closes doors we can’t afford to shut.”
Florence straightened, scanning the assembled group. “Aylin, you’ll take the northwest quadrant with me. Lyssara and Brooker, northeast. Mathias and Duncan, southwest.” Her finger landed on the final quadrant. “Rell and Violette will take the southeast—that’s where the tunnels are densest.”
Elora waited for her assignment, but Florence’s gaze slid past her, already moving on to logistics. The omission hung in the air for a moment before Florence caught herself.
“Elora, you will remain here,” she said with casual dismissal. “You aren’t combat trained.”
Elora bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
Not combat trained? The scars beneath her sleeves told a different story—evidence of forest ambushes survived, of Thorn’s arena endured.
Her muscles still remembered Al’teran fighting stances.
And then there was the matter of her other form, claws and wings that could tear through the night sky.
She maintained a mask of indifference, eyes half-lidded as Florence’s dismissal hung in the air. Let them underestimate her. The creature coiled within her consciousness seemed to purr at the irony. Anyone who had seen her true capabilities would know she was the deadliest person in this room.
When she glanced at Rell, she expected to find support. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the map, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. The slight angle of his body away from her told her everything. He sided with Florence.
That was fine. She had no desire to play hero for Symond anyway.
Observing The Hive’s operations from a safe distance was one thing; risking her neck for someone who’d erased her from his memory was quite another.
She could make herself useful elsewhere—perhaps with the alchemists tending to the wounded or looking after the children.
After the night’s chaos, perhaps she deserved a cat nap.
The group filed out, as Florence commanded them to gather their gear and meet at some gate. Elora moved to leave but found herself blocked at the threshold. Rell and Vye stayed behind, eyeing the corridor to see if Florence saw them stalling.
They slipped back in the office, closing the door with a silent click.
“Elora,” Rell gripped both her shoulders, and she could almost hear the reality check he was about to give her before he even spoke.
“I’m sorry I didn’t suggest that you should come.
” His face was earnest, eyes searching hers with an intensity that suggested he thought she was about to defend how she could help.
“I know you’re capable. But if whoever orchestrated this is targeting apprentices…
” His voice lightened to forced casualness.
“I’d rather not serve you up to kidnappers.
” His attempt at lightness couldn’t mask how his fingers had tightened around her shoulders, betraying the tremor he was trying to hide.
Elora removed his hands from her shoulders, briefly holding them before letting go. “Relax. I wasn’t particularly eager to save Symond anyway.” She shrugged.
Rell blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness.
“I don’t want him dead,” Elora clarified, crossing her arms. “But after everything he’s done, all the ways he’s treated me, and then just erased me to help him cope with the monster he became—I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to risk my life for him.”
Relief washed over Rell’s face as his shoulders dropped. “Good. We’re on the same page then.” He gave her his signature lopsided smirk. “Florence is right about one thing—you’ll be safer here. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Actually,” Violette interjected, stepping forward with arms still crossed, “Elora’s abilities could help us narrow down the search significantly.”
Rell turned to face her, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. He stared at Violette like she’d suddenly started speaking another language.