Chapter 234: Seek Shelter 5

BRADLEY

The words settled heavily in my stomach.

Folke pushed the laptop toward the younger warlock. "Take this. Make sure the footage is preserved. I want copies, and I want us to conduct an investigation of our own."

The warlock gathered the laptop and held it against his chest. Folke barely spared him another glance. He crossed the room toward the white shape on the floor, where my sentinels were still standing guard.

"Step aside."

They moved immediately.

Folke lowered himself to his knees. The impact against the stone floor was sharp enough to make me wince. He slipped his arms beneath the linen and carefully lifted his daughter.

Her body was heavier than he expected. I saw the effort in his shoulders as he struggled to get her properly into his arms. For a moment, his balance faltered, and one of my sentinels instinctively reached forward. Folke managed to steady himself, but he had barely taken three steps before his knees gave way.

He sank to the floor with Willow in his arms.

For several seconds, he did nothing but stare at her. Then he pulled the linen away from her face and reached out to touch her cheek. He used the backs of his fingers, almost cautiously, as though he were checking for a fever and might still find her warm.

That was when he broke.

The sound that escaped him was barely recognizable as a sob. His shoulders began to shake, and he bowed his head until his forehead rested against hers.

I looked away.

One of my sentinels turned toward the wall. The other stood rigidly beside him, his hand trembling where it rested against his belt.

I felt sick.

I had done terrible things in the name of order. I had carried out my king’s commands without questioning what they would cost, and I had learned to live with the consequences. But standing there, watching a father grieve for his daughter—a death I had helped keep hidden until the royal family’s needs forced the truth into the open—was a moment I could never have prepared for.

I pressed a hand against my stomach and took a slow breath, then another, until I could manage the nausea.

You have a mission, I reminded myself. And it cannot wait.

It was a cruel thought, particularly under the circumstances. Folke had just lost his daughter, and I was already calculating how much longer I could afford to let him grieve.

But Lysander had given me a task, and the creature in the tank was not going to wait for us to finish mourning.

I gave him another minute.

"Supreme."

He didn’t respond at first.

"Supreme Shelter." I repeated. "There’s something else we need to discuss."

Folke slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red, his expression almost unrecognizable.

"What is it?"

"Before all this happened, I asked your daughter to speak with you about a matter involving several of the old families. Yours included. I wasn’t sure whether she’d had the opportunity to mention it."

She hadn’t. I had never even told her.

The lie came easily, which made it worse.

"No." He shook his head. "She has barely spoken to us since she went to your estate. Hardly a message in days aside the timme she joked about being in the midst of snakes again." His expression tightened as he considered my words. "What could possibly involve my family?"

"It’s a personal matter." I glanced toward the sentinels and the space where the young warlock was standing. "I’d rather discuss it without an audience. Could you have your ward step outside? I’ll send my men away as well."

Folke studied me for a moment. His jaw tightened, and I wondered whether he would refuse.

Eventually, he raised two fingers.

"Leave us."

The young warlock hesitated. "Supreme..."

"Please. Go."

The boy bowed and left, taking the laptop with him.

I turned to my sentinels. "Outside. I will be fine."

They obeyed without question. The wounded one struggled to walk, and his companion stayed close enough to support him. Once they were gone, the door closed quietly behind them.

I was alone with the Supreme of Bellowstand and his dead daughter.

"Would you mind sealing the room?" I asked.

Folke looked at me, his expression guarded now.

"What is this about?"

Even as he protested, Folke snapped his fingers.

The magic spread almost immediately. I noticed it first along the walls, where a faint shimmer appeared and gradually extended across the windows and the door. A translucent film covered every surface, sealing the room from the rest of the house. The fire continued to burn, but its crackling disappeared. The ticking clock fell silent, followed by the distant sounds of acolytes moving through the corridors.

Within seconds, we were completely cut off from the outside world.

I drew a breath.

"This concerns the sealing of the demigod Lycaon."

Folke went still.

"What about it?"

"We believe the seal may have weakened. There is also reason to suspect that Lycaon has found a way to enter people’s dreams."

His expression changed so quickly that I barely had time to register it.

One moment, he was standing beside his daughter. The next, he had placed her carefully on the cushions and was facing me, his hands trembling at his sides.

"You incompetent buffoon."

"I beg your pardon, Supreme..."

"You incompetent buffoon!" His voice rang through the room. "You’ve allowed that thing to crawl out of its prison and into people’s heads? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as a thought occurred to him.

"What if that’s what happened?"

I knew exactly what he was getting at. "It isn’t."

"You do not know that. What if he entered my daughter’s dreams? What if he found her, got inside her head and made her do those things? We fought him once. You know how demented that beast is."

"That is not what happened."

"You cannot possibly know that!"

"I do." I stepped closer, keeping my voice measured. "Supreme, I need you to think about this. If Lycaon could reach people through their dreams, who do you imagine he would target first? Who has the most reason to fear him?"

Folke stared at me with no words to say, so I continued.

"The royal family. The bloodline responsible for sealing him away. The people who put him in that tank." I gestured toward myself. "I am the High Beta of that place. I have lived in the royal estate for many years, and I have slept under that roof for many night. If Lycaon could reach into someone’s dreams, in order of priority, I would be among his first targets. Yet I have experienced nothing of the sort."

It was not entirely convincing, but I had nothing better to offer him. I had no memory of Lycaon entering my dreams, and I held on to that absence as though it were proof.

"I know what you’re thinking," I continued, softening my tone. "I have a daughter too. I cannot imagine what it would do to me to find myself in your position. But you have to consider the evidence, Folke. Willow’s death has nothing to do with Lycaon. She used her own magic to kill those people. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I would be lying."

"Her own magic," he repeated.

"Yes."

"And you expect me to just accept that? Do you know how hard..."

"I could never." I cut in. "But I expect you to investigate it. Properly. Bring in Delicates if you want an independent assessment. Bring in a dozen of them. The royal family will cooperate. You can examine the evidence, question the witnesses and look into every detail. We have nothing to hide."

Folke said nothing.

"But that isn’t only why I’ve come here tonight." I paused, giving him a moment to absorb what I’d said. "The seal is becoming an urgent concern. I’m contacting all the old magical families because we need their assistance. Rune magic is almost extinct, but your families have mostly preserved it. The Shelter bloodline is one of the last that can still perform the necessary work."

His expression remained closed.

"I need your help, Supreme."