My heart exploded into a rapid beat against my ribs. Euphoria blazed through my veins.My father was here!
The corners of Valarie’s mouth slowly curled downward. “The Wychthorns still think she’s dead.”
Someone cleared his throat before speaking. “No. No, they don’t.”
Valarie, along with every single person in the room, turned toward Caidan, who slid the filing cabinet drawer shut with a metallic, jarring clank.
He straightened and approached his aunt with heavy footsteps. The burn marks on his face had receded to a reddened state with small blisters.
“What did you do?” she asked in her bitter, raspy voice.
A grating noise resounded in the quiet as Caidan’s booted feet scuffed against the stone as he widened his stance. “I informed them a few hours ago that Nelle was still alive.”
I shot him an inquisitive glance. One that he caught and blatantly ignored. Had he done it for my sister? For Evvie?
“Why would you do that?” Valarie snapped. “It was to our advantage to use this knowledge—”
“Valarie,” interrupted Varen. “How are we to break Byron if he thinks his daughter is dead?”
“I’d have liked his suffering to be a little longer.”
“She’s here with us. I’m sure that is suffering enough,” Caidan muttered under his breath.
Varen frowned at his son but carried on speaking to his sister. “Besides, in due time, he would have followed protocol, and the autopsy would have revealed the truth of the changeling.”
With a vexed sigh, Valarie agreed but disliked it.
Penn gestured behind her. “Byron Wychthorn’s at the front door, demanding to be let in.”
Please, please, please—I silently begged.
I didn’t care to speak with the Head of Great House Wychthorn, or for him to find an impossible way through this situation. I just wanted my father. For him to fold his arms around me and hug me tight. Hold me as he did when he found me confined within the tithe prison.
“Let him in,” Varen ordered.
Penn inclined her head, turned on her heel, and left.
“We need Byron to know his daughter’s alive and that she’s with us. It doesn’t matter if it’s today or tomorrow when he learns the truth.” Varen told his sister.
And stupidly, I felt grateful to these Crowthers.
I was going to see my father.
His next words crushed my fragile hope. “As Head of Great House Wychthorn, he has every right to come here. But he has absolutely no authority over us regarding his daughter. He can demand to be let in, and we will let him. But he’ll never be able to see her or speak with her unless we allow him to. And tonight isn’t the night for that.”
A monstrous feeling of despair and desperation tangled within me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sob. Of course, they’d never let me speak to my father.
But the door was ajar.
And so far, no one besides myself had noticed.
Valarie and her twin brother shared a look—a silent communication, a shared twin-link, perhaps.
“It’s moving faster than we anticipated,” she said.
“Then we move faster,” he replied.
She turned to Kenton, her skirt catching around her shins as the decision settled. “Take her to the holding cells beneath the Keep. Lock her away until we have need of her.”
