“But why didn’t the witches help the Clan?” Daciana interrupts me, her frustration boiling over. “If they were underattack, and if the witches were protecting them, why didn’t they stop it?”
Artisem’s expression darkens. “If you were taken from that family, and the necromancer had anything to do with it, he could have kept the witches distracted. Wasn’t there a forest fire during those days?”
The memory surfaces, clear and blinding. “Yes,” I say. “A massive one. It burned for three days.”
“What if that fire was the distraction?” Artisem narrows his gaze. “It was quite near the territory of the gypsy witches. While they were dealing with that, containing the damage, protecting their own lands—”
“Someone was slaughtering the Ravelholt Clan,” I finish. “And taking a newborn baby.” My wolf snarls inside me, rage building at the calculated cruelty of it. “I don’t like this. The witches know more than they’re telling us. They have to.”
Daciana stands abruptly, pulling her hand from mine. She paces to the window, her whole body vibrating with tension. “I need to get out of here,” she says. “I need to breathe. I need—”
Artisem stops Daciana by saying, “I ran into Healer Selene. She seemed to be looking for you.”
She sighs. “I’ll go see what she wants.”
“There’s a guard outside waiting to accompany you,” Artisem adds.
Daciana glances at me as she starts for the door. “Is it okay if I leave?”
I smile at her as I reach for her hand and kiss the back of it. “Go. Stay within the palace grounds. Don’t give the guard the slip.”
Her lips curve. “I value my life, Kieran. I’ll stick to him like glue.”
I yank her closer with my grip on her hand, and she stumbles toward me. Our faces end up inches away from each other’s. “Not that close,” I murmur.
Her face flushes, and she presses her lips against mine softly. “Alright. See you in a bit.”
I watch her leave, then turn to my right-hand man. “So, what is it that you don’t want her overhearing?”
Artisem winces. “Caught that, did you?”
“I’ve known you since you were but a boy, Artisem. Of course I picked up on it. Now, what is it?”
He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “There is no doubt your mate was born from the Ravelholt Clan.”
My brows raise. “You have irrefutable proof?”
“One of their servants escaped during the massacre,” he continues. “She ran to the human town. She told a human woman who helped her that their home had been invaded by shifters and that they had killed her mistress. Everybody was slaughtered.”
My wolf goes still. “Her mistress. Daciana’s mother?”
“Yes. The servant said she was killed immediately after giving birth. Still bleeding, still weak from labor. They didn’t even give her a chance.”
I press my fist against the desk, feeling the wood crack under the pressure. “Keep going.”
“The human woman I talked to—she’s old now, but she remembers everything. She said that twenty-eight years ago, a man came into town asking questions about the Clan. About their numbers, their routines, when they traded.” Artisem pauses. “The description she gave matches Lord Theodore. A younger version of the man, but I’m convinced it was him.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “Theodore.”
“More people joined him later, but they stayed hidden. Watched from the shadows. And the day after the massacre, theyall disappeared.” Artisem meets my gaze. “Like they were never there.”
“The servant,” I say. “What else did she say?”
“She died from her wounds, but not before she told them what she had seen. The man who took Daciana had a blanket. And the mother’s pendant. The servant watched him carry the baby away.”
I press my lips together, thinking. Human memory isn’t exactly reliable, but what do I really know about Lord Theodore? From the day my delegation arrived, he has been very vocal against us. Then, he started trying to push his daughter on me. Is he our necromancer?
“I’ll tell Lucian to look into Theodore’s family,” I say. “But I want more than history. Send our best spies into his lands. See what they’re hiding.”
