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Reid sighed and handed me a scroll. “I dug up Chief Gorem’s lineage chart, just as you requested. And I discovered that some of the names are incorrect.”

It took me a moment to recall my previous discussion with him. I had suspected Chief Gorem of being connected to King Nolan’s death, but I didn’t have any evidence. Frowning, I opened the scroll and scanned the markings on the chart. Chief Gorem’s ancestry had four generations documented, each name listed in faded ink. All chiefs were required to provide a full lineage chart before assuming their position, to prove they came from one of the original noble families of the tribe.

“It looks normal to me,” I said.

“I thought so, too, until I smelled Wolven Magic on it. I believe someone used a powerful spell to replace some of the names.”

I leaned forward and sniffed the scroll. The smells of old leather and worn parchment filled my nose, but after a moment, I could make out the barest hint of spice and loam. Reid’s sense of smell had always been better than mine, so he had likely noticed it right away.

“How do we know which names have been changed?” I glanced over the names of Gorem’s ancestors, but nothing stuck out to me.

“With this.” Reid laid the second scroll on the table between us. “This is the lineage of Chief Quintos, the great-grandfather of Chief Gorem. Notice anything?”

I laid the second piece of parchment alongside the first, glancing between them as I searched for discrepancies. Chief Quintos’s name was listed on Chief Gorem’s chart, as expected. For the first few generations, the names matched perfectly. I kept looking until I reached the beginning of Chief Quintos’s lineage, where the founding tribe family names were listed. I stiffened as I noticed a name I recognized. Hans Marlowe. When I glanced back at Chief Gorem’s chart, the Marlowe name was conspicuously absent. Instead it listed Gregor Valaneth, someone I’d never heard of before. My eyes widened as I looked at Reid, who was nodding grimly.

Hans Marlowe’s name had been removed from Chief Gorem’s chart. It was the only inconsistency between the two.

Assuming Chief Quintos’s chart was correct, this meant that Chief Gorem was a direct descendant of Hans Marlowe, who had created our portal to the fae lands. Everyone knew that Hans’s particular brand of magic was unique and powerful, which was why he was the only one capable of crafting an enchantment that could take us from the Isle to the fae lands.

But this meant that Hans’s magic flowed in Chief Gorem’s veins.

“Do you think this is what he’s hiding?” I asked, lifting the scroll. “His connection to the Marlowe line?”

“I think he’s older and more powerful than he wants anyone else to know,” Reid said quietly. “On its own, this information isn’t damning, but it does make you wonder why. Why hide this? And why not use his powerful magic to better help the kingdom?”

I nodded absently, chewing on the inside of my cheek. The Marlowe family was renowned for their exceptional spell crafting. Hans’s grandson, Porter, had built the Oracle. Mariwilla Marlowe had been the first Mage to create shadow wolves during battle.

Everyone in that bloodline had demonstrated superior magical abilities.

Which begged the question: Why didn’t Chief Gorem?

“Why would Chief Gorem be so concerned about people discovering this?” I wondered, exchanging a concerned look with Reid.

“I don’t know. But he’s the senior chief, and he’s held the position for so long that it’s almost impossible to find any Mage who was alive when he was appointed.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Even the other chiefs?”

He nodded. “I looked at their lineage charts, too. Some of them were small children when Chief Gorem was appointed, but not old enough to have access to the scrolls.”

I frowned, rubbing my chin. “That would make him… at least five hundred years old.” I shook my head. “That’s impossible. Look at Dulsa! She’s two hundred and has silver hair and more wrinkles than I can count. Chief Gorem still looks as youthful as you and me.”

“Dulsa ages more quickly because of the frequent usage of her magic,” Reid pointed out. “The Chiefs don’t cast spells nearly as often as she does because they delegate tasks to their subordinates.”

“But it still doesn’t add up. Chief Gorem should be showing some signs of aging. If anything, he should be considering stepping down as chief. This is unheard of.”

“Perhaps he wants to hide his age so people won’t try to convince him to resign?” Reid speculated.

“Hmm,” I said, tapping my chin thoughtfully. The theory was possible, but it still seemed too weak to warrant something as drastic as altering a lineage chart. I leaned forward, lowering my voice just in case anyone lurked outside my chambers. “Can you find me proof that Chief Gorem was connected to Locke and Verne?” The two Mages who had tried to attack Cerise were the same guards who had been with King Nolan before he’d died. It couldn’t be a coincidence, and if Gorem was connected to them, that would be precisely the proof we needed. “I think that will be enough evidence to take Chief Gorem to the Oracle for questioning.”

Reid nodded, then winced. “I can, but remember, we have to wait until the next full moon to access the Oracle’s magic. And, if his neck is on the line, I highly doubt Chief Gorem will offer up his blood for the ritual.”

“He’ll have to,” I growled. “If I use this information to denounce him publicly, to refuse would be admitting his own guilt.”

Reid began rolling up the scrolls and tucked them under his arm. “I’ll see what I can uncover. But Alaric, be careful. If Chief Gorem is as old and powerful as we think, then we can’t underestimate him.”

I sighed and rubbed the back of my head. “I know. You be careful, too. I don’t want him catching wind of you asking too many questions.”

Reid nodded and turned for the door. Before he left, he paused and said over his shoulder, “It will be all right, you know. If you and Cerise are Soulbound, you’ll find your way back to each other.”