There was no taking this back. No undoing it. She belonged here now.
“Perfect,” Jaxon whispered.
The High Magister smiled slightly, but there was something pointed in his tone when he said, “Jaxon has worked tirelessly to convince me and the Arcanum that you are a valuable asset. He’s sacrificed a very promising career to acquire your bond, Araya.”
Jaxon’s smile didn’t falter. But his fingers tightened, just for a fraction of a second—a slight, instinctive response before smoothing back into a deliberate, measured squeeze.
“Sacrifice?” He echoed, raising his eyebrows. “I’d call it an investment.”
The High Magister smiled slightly. “Jaxon did make a compelling case. And his work on the Shadowed Veil is very important to the Arcanum. Have you heard of it?”
Araya choked on her next breath. But Jaxon just rolled his eyes. “Father, really. Don’t tease her.” His hand found hers under the table, squeezing reassuringly.
“Consider me properly chastised.” The High Magister leaned back, hands lifted in mock surrender. “Truly—I meant no offense. Jaxon speaks very highly of your insight—and you certainly seemed engrossed in his notes earlier. I’d be interested to hear what you saw in his findings.”
“Oh—” Araya cleared her throat, squirming in her seat under the High Magister’s scrutiny. “Well—Jaxon’s theory is…intriguing.”
Both men stared at her, waiting.
She flushed. “It’s just…” She bit her lip, choosing her words carefully. “There’s no precedent for a curse to behave like that. Curses decay. They weaken over time unless someone actively maintains them. But this one—” she hesitated, glancing between them. “It’s holding. Maybe even growing. So…who’s keeping it in place?”
For a beat, no one spoke.
Then Jaxon gave a quiet, almost smug laugh. “See! I told you she’d get there,” he said. “It took me a year to come to that conclusion. She did it in minutes.”
Araya’s breath caught. That had been a test. And she’d walked right into it.
“She did.” The High Magister gave a slow nod. “She’s as impressive as you said she was, Jaxon.”
“Of course she is,” Jaxon said, spinning his knife between two fingers. “And she’s exactly right—” he grinned at her, his eyes burning with pride and heat. “The Shadowed Veil is more than some cursed fog. It’s intelligent. Civilian boats skirt the edges without incident—but send a patrol, and they vanish. No debris. No survivors. Whoever is controlling it, they’re shielding something—or someone.”
Araya shook her head slowly, her brow furrowed. “But who could even do that?” she asked quietly. “I don’t know of any mage who could hold a spell like that in place for decades. It would take immense, constant power.”
“You’re right.” Garrick leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. “We’re considering the possibility of it being the fae king.”
“The fae king?” Araya echoed, her gaze flicking between the two men. “But…he’s dead—isn’t he?”
“Well—” Garrick steepled his fingers, watching her intently. “The shadows were first observed behaving in this manner during the Battle of Eluneth. It seems likely that the Shadowed Veil was Corwin’s last, desperate act to protect the fae—but no one actually saw him fall.”
Araya stared at him, his words crashing over her like a wave. Everyone knew the fae king had died at Eluneth—everyone. That was the foundation of everything that came after.
If he was still alive…
“It still doesn’t make sense,” she said. “If it is the fae king, why would the fae be the ones worst affected by it?”
Both men looked at her blankly.
“We—they…the fae in the districts—” Araya glanced between them, stumbling over her words. “It’s probably just superstition, but they blame the mists that blow off the Shadowed Veil whenever people get sick…or disappear.”
The High Magister tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “And they’ve never reported this to the Arcanum?”
Araya shrugged uneasily. “I’ve never seen any proof of it. The fae there…they don’t have a lot of reasons to trust the Arcanum.”
Jaxon’s eyebrows lifted slightly—not offended, but clearly surprised.
Garrick merely smiled. “A reasonable response,” he admitted. “Jaxon—have you spoken with anyone from the districts?”
Jaxon leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. “I haven’t… but maybe I should.” He glanced at her. “Do you have a recommendation on where to start?”
