Chapter 20 – Locke
Twenty
LOCKE
The corridor falls silent once Caelyx's footsteps retreat from the archives, leaving me alone with the stone and shadows that predate this university's transformation from a military structure to halls of decadence.
I watch him through the window's reflection, noting the arrogance in his gait. He carries himself like he's daring the world to challenge him.
The son of a bitch stole my authorization crystal. I felt it the moment his fingers brushed my pocket during one of our last encounters, but I let him take it. Better to know what he's looking for than to stop him and have him find even more creative ways to satisfy his curiosity.
And Caelyx is always curious.
I wait five minutes, counting the seconds. Then I move, my footsteps silent against stone worn smooth by ages. The restricted archives call to me, pulling me toward whatever secrets Caelyx found interesting enough to risk my wrath.
The door yields to my touch. The wards recognize my signature even without the stolen crystal. I slip inside, letting the darkness swallow me whole. The air here tastes of ancient magic. I breathe it in like fine wine.
My magic unfurls, invisible tendrils of power spreading through the archive like roots seeking water. Every document Caelyx touched left a trace, a fingerprint of his magic burned into paper and leather. I follow the trail, letting it guide me through shelves that stretch into impossible distances.
The hunter records. Of course.
The files float from their resting places at my command, arranging themselves in mid-air in the exact order Caelyx examined them.
Moreau clan history. Individual hunters.
Recent incidents. And there, the one he lingered over the longest, the one that made his pulse spike with interest I could feel even now through the residual magic.
Wilhelmina Moreau.
I pull the file closer, scanning the sparse details with eyes that have read thousands of such reports over the centuries. Age twenty. Omega. Origin, Moreau clan.
An omega hunter.
The universe has a twisted sense of humor.
But it's what's not in the file that interests me.
No mention of parents. No childhood records.
Nothing that explains how an omega ended up in a hunter clan long enough to be trained.
The Fae have strict protocols about omega detection and retrieval.
For one to slip through the cracks for twenty years?
Impossible.
Unless someone wanted her to slip through.
I move to the next file Caelyx examined, another hunter from the Moreau bloodline. Then another. He was searching for a pattern, a connection.
Smart. Paranoid as fuck, but smart.
The final file makes my blood run cold. "Unresolved Incidents." I know this section exists, but it's rarely accessed. The filing system's equivalent of a junk drawer, filled with cases that didn't fit neatly into the bureaucracy's ordered boxes.
A hunter, female, approximately forty-five years old. The line of text below materializes before my eyes only. Caelyx wouldn't have even known to look for the addition hidden beneath the glamour. The unknown hunter was captured eight years ago after an assassination attempt on Prince Corvinus.
An attempt I don't remember, because it never happened. I haven't left the prince's side for any significant length of time in longer than I care to calculate, but the last time someone tried to kill the son of a bitch, it wasn't a close call and it certainly wasn't a woman.
It's possible it could have happened while I was away briefly on a trip, but surely Corvinus would have mentioned it. He never shuts up about the slightest inconvenience, let alone a full-blown attempt on his life.
And that's far from the only anomalous aspect of the ordeal. There's no execution record.
Strange.
I close my eyes, pieces clicking together in my mind like a puzzle I should have solved weeks ago. Eight years. Billie would have been twelve. The perfect age to be traumatized by losing a parent, young enough that the wound would never truly heal.
Vengeance.
She's here for vengeance.
Not that there's any proof this hunter was connected to her. It's merely a theory that fits the facts. The Moreau clan is vast yet all but incestuous, only bringing in new blood occasionally to keep the family tree from becoming a wreath. It could be any distant relation, and yet…
It's the only thing that makes sense of her presence here.
The realization should send me straight to the palace, should have me alerting every guard on campus. It should trigger every protective instinct I've honed over centuries of keeping Corvinus alive.
Instead, I find myself fascinated.
A hunter omega seeking revenge against the prince who killed her mother. The contradiction is beautiful in its complexity.
And Corvinus, the arrogant fool, has no idea.
I return the files to their proper places, erasing the traces of both Caelyx's visit and my own. The wards seal behind me as I exit, leaving no evidence I was ever there.
The walk back to our shared residence on the outskirts of campus gives me time to think. To plan and consider the variables.
Billie refused Corvinus's offer and in doing so, she accomplished something no one has managed to do in centuries.
She surprised me.
No omega refuses the prince. Not when he's offering protection, privilege, the kind of life most of them spend their entire existence dreaming about.
But she did.
Which means she's either incredibly stupid, incredibly brave, or playing a game so deep even I can't see the bottom of it.
I'm betting on the last option.
But if she's here to kill Corvinus, accepting his offer would have been the logical move. Get close, earn his trust, wait for the perfect moment to strike. That's how assassins work. How hunters work.
Rejecting him publicly was not prudent. Unless she's playing the long game. Unless she knew exactly what kind of obsession her rejection would trigger in him.
The mansion materializes out of the darkness.
It's smaller than the palace, more intimate, but no less impressive in its construction.
White stone that seems to drink in moonlight, towers that twist toward the sky.
Gardens that bloom with flowers found only in the deepest parts of the Fae realm, their petals singing soft songs that most can't hear.
Home. If anywhere has ever been that, it's here.
The front door opens before I reach it, responding to my presence.
The entrance hall greets me with familiar opulence and marble floors inlaid with silver.
The walls are hung with art worth more than entire cities, and above the stairs sits a chandelier that could blind lesser beings with its radiance.
The house is silent, except for the faint sound of music drifting from the upper floors.
No. Not music.
Painting music. Corvinus only listens to that composer when he's knee-deep in the craft.
"Fuck," I mutter, already knowing what I'll find.
Tallon appears from the sitting room, leaning against the doorframe with a glass of wine in one hand and that knowing smirk playing at his lips.
He's changed from his earlier formal wear into something more comfortable.
Loose pants and a shirt that hangs open to reveal every inch of his abs like the showy peacock he is.
"Welcome home, Professor," he says, raising his glass in mock salute. "How was your evening of academic drudgery?"
"Where is he?"
"Locked in his study." Tallon takes a sip, his green eyes glittering with amusement over the rim. "Been there since we got back from the party. Didn't even stop to eat dinner."
I close my eyes, counting to five in the ancient tongue my mother taught me. It doesn't help. "He's painting again."
"Oh yes." Tallon's smile widens. "Guess who awakened his muse?"
"I'm going to kill her," I say flatly. "Slowly. With fire."
"Get in line." He pushes off the doorframe, moving toward the stairs. "Caelyx has been skulking around her like a cat with a mouse. Corvinus has locked himself away with his paints and his obsession. And you look like you want to burn down the entire campus and salt the earth she's walked on."
"Accurate assessment."
We climb the stairs together, and I can feel the bond stretched between us.
Mine and Corvinus's and Tallon's, all tangled together in a knot that's both comfort and curse.
Right now, it's pulling me toward the study where Corvinus has sequestered himself, probably working with the kind of manic energy that never means anything good.
It's hard enough to keep him focused under normal circumstances.
"She refused him," Tallon says conversationally. "In front of us. Just flat-out said no."
"I know. I was there."
"This is fascinating," Tallon muses. "When's the last time anything interesting happened around here?"
I grimace. Leave it to a fucking dog to find joy in chaos. "The last time something 'interesting' happened, we spent three months rebuilding half the eastern wing."
"Details." He waves his hand dismissively. "So what's your theory? Is she here to kill him?"
I consider lying, but Tallon can smell lies almost as well as I can. "Probably."
"And you're not going to do anything about it?"
"I'm thinking about it."
We reach the study, and I can hear it now. The soft scratch of brush on canvas, the occasional muttered curse, the sound of Corvinus completely lost in whatever vision has seized him.
When his muse takes hold, he disappears into it like a drowning man pulled under by a rip current. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days.
"You think Caelyx is planning something?" Tallon asks, his voice pitched low.
"Caelyx is always planning something." I press my hand against the study door, feeling the wards Corvinus has thrown up. They're strong. The magical equivalent of a "fuck off" sign. "The question is whether it involves the hunter."
"I'm sure it involves fucking her," Tallon adds helpfully. "I saw him stalking her in the hall the other day. He looked at her the way a starving man looks at a feast."
"Everyone looks at her that way. She's an unclaimed omega in a university full of alphas. Fresh meat, at that."
Fae love nothing more than a novelty. Corvinus is no exception. Neither is Caelyx, apparently.
The last damn thing I need is the brothers fighting over the shiny new toy on campus.
"No." Tallon's voice goes serious in a way that makes me look at him. "Not like that. Not like someone he wants to fuck, like…a puzzle. And you know how Caelyx gets about puzzles."
I do know. Caelyx doesn't rest until he's taken things apart, examined every piece, understood how they work. And if they don't work the way he wants? He breaks them and puts them back together until they do.
"I have to admit," Tallon says, and there's something almost admiring in his tone, "she is intriguing. The way she stood there, chin up, telling a prince to go fuck himself in so many polite words. Takes balls."
"She's a hunter," I remind him. "Trained from birth to kill creatures like us. Her bravery is dangerous, not admirable."
"Maybe it's both." He tilts his head, studying me intently. "But don't tell me you don't find her intriguing."
"I don't have time for this," I mutter, turning away from the study door. Corvinus won't emerge until his muse releases him, and trying to force the issue will only make things worse. "I have research to attend to. Try to make sure he doesn't get himself killed."
"I'm just a familiar," he calls after me, "not a miracle worker!"
"Is there anything you are good for?"
"Cunnilingus," he calls after me without missing a beat. "I'm excellent at that!"
I roll my eyes, flicking my hand to open the doors leading into my private wing.
As usual, I'm surrounded by idiots.
And suddenly, all of them are orbiting around a girl who's either the biggest fool at this university, or clever enough to be the downfall of us all.