Page 37 of The Shadow Sanctum

The door closes behind us with a soft click.

The hallway is silent save for the faint echo of children's voices behind the wall. It’s darker out here. The polished floors gleam with reflected light, but the quiet feels deeper. Heavy.

“Your presence unnerves the little ones,” he says conversationally as we walk. “You carry too much on your face.”

I glance sideways at him but don’t respond.

He chuckles, the sound low and friendly. “Children are perceptive. More than we give them credit for. They feel tension like a draft under a door.” His smile turns on me. “And yours, darling, comes in like a storm.”

Again, I don’t reply. But inwardly, I wonder if he’s right.

The kitchen is mostly empty, save for an older Nurturer sweeping near the back pantry and the distant clatter of someone washing dishes. The warm scent of pastries lingers in the air, sweet and rich. Too much so.

The Nurturer leaves without a word, and Father moves to the counter.

He lifts the edge of a linen-draped basket to reveal a collection of scones. He selects one with dried berries pressed into the top and breaks it cleanly in half, steam curling from the center. With a satisfied nod, he takes a bite, then holds the other half out to me.

I shake my head.

He raises a brow. “You sure?” he talks around his chewing. “They’re not too sweet. I had Mary make them as a treat for the girls. After losing one of their own…” He tips his head side to side. “It can be tough.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re not indulgent.” He places the half scone on a small ceramic plate and sets it gently on the table between us. “I’ve always liked that about you. So much stronger than us mere mortals.” He winks.

When he winks, something flutters in my stomach, then dies and begins to rot. An entire lifecycle plays out within a two-second window, and the next window is spent pretending I don’t understand the confliction.

Surely the day will come when I will feel nothing for his approval.

I sit on a stool but don’t reach for the food. He takes another bite, chewing slowly. Watching me.

The moment stretches.

“How is Persephone’s sister?” I ask.

He dabs the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Sad, of course. But not broken.” He leans back in his chair. “Children are more resilient than you think.”

I blink at him. Something about that feels cryptic. “Are they? Or do they just learn to smile through it?”

His eyes narrow slightly. Just a flicker, quickly masked.

“My daughter, always the devil’s advocate.” He rises from his seat and dusts the crumbs from his hands. “What is it you needed to speak with me about?”

I lift an inch from my stool, my hands grasping the counter for support, before I lower myself back down.

I should give him the higher ground.

“I’m afraid you have a problem with two of the Keepers… Last night, Aiden was caught trying to smuggle Liberty and Aubry out of the Shadow Sanctum. He’s been taken into custody, and I’ve arranged for his execution to be held at six o’clock this evening.”

Father hums, his kind expression never breaking. “And the women?”

“Dead. Thorne is transporting their ashes to a plot of land off the compound as we speak to avoid tarnishing our soil.”

Father gives me a toothless smile. His eyes hold a suspicious gleam to them that I once believed was a sign that he was all knowing.

He isn’t. But he’s smart.

His words from last night sour like milk left in the sun. In some ways… It’s true, he’s like Sawyer.