I allow myself three seconds of weakness—three seconds to feel his warmth, inhale his cedar scent, let his strength support me. Then I pull back, though my hands still shake.
“He knows exactly what he’s doing,” I whisper, voice steadier than I feel. “Using mother against me. Invoking Caelynn’s memory.”
Callum’s jaw tightens, the muscle there jumping with controlled rage. “Something’s off about this. The pressure, therushed timeline—remember what Nova and Derek found. This isn’t just court politics.”
“I know.” I press my fingertips against the table’s grain, feeling the wood’s quiet strength. “But knowing doesn’t stop it from working. The guilt is—“ My voice catches. “Caelynn would have done her duty.”
“This isn’t duty,” Callum says, voice low and fierce. “It’s exploitation. Theymurderedyour sister.”
I look up at him, finding my center in the protective fire burning in his amber eyes. “If they killed her to create this marriage vacancy, they’re not just manipulating my family. They’re engineering a war.”
His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “We’ll fight this. Together.”
I lean into his touch briefly before straightening. “He’s rushing the timeline. Cutting the Accord’s grace period in half.”
“Someone’s pressuring him to accelerate this. Rushing you into compliance before we can investigate.”
I nod, feeling my healer’s analytical mind reassert itself. “We need to bring this to Dane. The timeline inconsistencies in Caelynn’s death report, my father’s unusual pressure—it all connects.”
“We’ll show him everything,” Callum agrees. “Continue the investigation with the full pack behind us.”
I press the communication crystal again, replaying my father’s message. The room falls silent as his voice fills the Dane’s office in the Lodge, each word taking on new meaning as I force myself to listen clinically rather than emotionally.
Nova moves closer, her violet eyes narrowed in concentration. She circles the holographic message, studying the shimmering patterns of magic that pulse with each syllable. Her fingertips hover millimeters from the magical signature, not quite touching but reading its essence.
“There,” she says suddenly, pointing to a subtle pulsation of darker energy that threads through my father’s words about duty and sacrifice. “That signature. It’s not natural grief—it’s amplified.”
I stare at the dark thread, shame burning in my chest. I should have seen it. Any competent healer would have caught that signature on the first listen. But it’s my father’s voice, my sister’s death, my future being ripped away—I couldn’t separate the magic from the grief.
Dane leans forward, his tactical gaze sharpening. “Magical manipulation?”
Nova nods, her expression grim. “Someone’s enhancing his emotional state. The grief is real—that’s his genuine pain about Caelynn. But this desperation?” She traces the darker thread. “That’s being magically amplified. Pushed past natural boundaries.”
Callum stays close behind me, his presence solid but unobtrusive. I feel his controlled anger in the slight tension radiating from him, but he remains silent, letting me process this revelation.
I stare at the magical signature, something cold and clear crystallizing inside me. “They’re using his grief against him. Against us.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.“Weaponizing his pain about Caelynn to make him pressure me.”
“This isn’t just political maneuvering,” Dane says, voice hardened by recognition. “It’s a deliberate attack. Someone’s ensuring your father’s pressure escalates beyond what he’d normally exert.”
“The timing matches everything else we’ve found,” Nova adds. “Caelynn’s rushed death investigation, the accelerated marriage timeline—“
“And now my father’s emotional state being manipulated to increase pressure on me.” I stand straighter, something shifting within me. The guilt I’ve been carrying—the terrible weight of choosing love over duty—transforms into something sharper, more focused.
“My father is a victim too,” I say, my voice hardening with clarity. “Someone is using Caelynn’s death to manipulate him too, to manufacture this entire crisis.”
Callum steps to my side now, his jaw tight with controlled fury. “This isn’t just political marriage pressure. It’s orchestrated emotional warfare against your entire family.”
“We need to identify who’s behind this magical influence before the delegation arrives,” Dane says grimly. “And find a way to break it.”
Chapter 19
Lyanna
Ilean over the ancient leather-bound text, squinting at faded script that makes my eyes hurt even with enhanced fae vision. Three hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough, but the warmth of Callum’s arms around me last night kept the nightmares at bay.
“Here,” Nova points, her violet eyes narrowed on a passage written in Old Fae. “Tribunal of Trellian, 1742. Marriage contract dissolved when ‘undue magical influence was proven upon the patriarch’s decision-making faculties.’”
My fingers trace the ornate script, heart quickening. “They established burden of proof requirements.”
