Chapter 207

I went straight to the boathouse.

As much as I wanted to believe Hawke was a decent man - a man who would do the right thing - I couldn't trust him.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I kicked the door open hard enough that it slammed against the wall, crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the chest, and stepped home.

Looking back on the conversation, I realized I'd probably sounded like I was blackmailing him.

‘That depends on how well you follow directions.’

Yeah. That definitely sounded like blackmail.

It hadn't been my intention. I just wanted him to stop working with the Covenant.

The problem was that I honestly didn't know what came next. I didn't know what to tell Lady Fenwick. I didn't know what to tell Amberleigh. And I didn't know how much damage had already been done.

I ended up atop the watchtower overlooking the keep, my legs dangling over the edge as I stared out across the forest.

The chest sat beside me.

My thoughts churned.

Hawke. Fenwick. The Covenant. The redirected names.

Every conversation played itself out a dozen different ways inside my head. Every decision seemed to carry consequences I couldn't fully see.

The stairs creaked behind me.

Torvek emerged onto the platform and sat beside me.

Neither of us spoke.

On the inner side of the wall, the bailey lay forty feet below. On the outer side, the cliff plunged well over a hundred feet toward the forest.

A fall like that would probably kill Torvek. Probably kill any of my children. Yet somehow none of them seemed bothered by heights.

I supposed growing up around people who could fly, teleport, turn into dragons, or survive being thrown through buildings did strange things to one's sense of danger.

Personally, I'd learned most falls didn't do much to me anymore. Bruises. A few broken bones. Maybe getting the wind knocked out of me. As long as I didn't land on my head, Faith usually patched me together quickly enough.

Before Annwn, I'd been terrified of heights.

I remembered visiting the Twin Towers as a kid. Remembered standing beside those enormous windows and looking down at New York spread out beneath me.

I remembered the building swaying. Not much. Just enough. They'd been designed that way. Better to bend than break.

But none of that mattered to the terrified child staring out over a city that suddenly felt very far away.

Even now, I couldn't imagine working in a building like that. Sitting at a desk all day while the world gently rocked beneath your feet.

We sat quietly for several minutes.

Then Torvek chuckled. “I remember the first time I came up here.”

I glanced at him.

“I'd gotten into an argument with Mirri.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Don't even remember what it was about. I think I called her a bitch.”

I laughed. “That sounds like a mistake.”

“It was.” His grin widened. “I stormed out before she could sink my feet into the stone as punishment.”

That sounded even more like Mirri.

Torvek looked out toward the distant trees. “I thought about leaving.” The grin faded. “Thought I was done.”

His voice grew quieter. “I wasn't used to trusting people. Especially adults.” He shrugged. “But I couldn't leave the others. They all thought they'd found a forever home.”

A laugh escaped him. “They knew it before I did.” He shook his head. “I was the idiot.”

I smiled. “That's not how I remember it.”

“That's because your memory is terrible.”

“Fair.”

He leaned back on his hands. “Doesn't matter. I came up here to think. To be angry.” His eyes drifted toward me. “And then you came up those stairs and sat down right where you are now.”

I looked at the stone beneath me.

“I thought you'd tell me I was wrong. Tell me I needed to behave. Make me apologize.” He laughed softly. “But you didn't say a damned thing.”

The smile on his face turned thoughtful. “You just sat there.”

The wind stirred his hair.

“It took me years to understand why.” He looked back out over the forest. “But it taught me something.”

His voice softened. “Sometimes having somebody there matters more than whatever the problem is.”

The words settled between us.

“Sometimes the best thing you can do is give someone time to figure it out.”

I stared at the horizon. “I didn't know I was teaching lessons.”

“You weren't.” He bumped my shoulder. “You were just being you.”

We sat in silence again.

Then he spoke. “I'm not here to talk about whatever's bothering you. Unless you want to.” His eyes stayed fixed on the distant trees. “But I wanted to be here for you.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Like you've been there for me.”

My throat tightened.

“The world isn't black and white.” He gestured vaguely toward the horizon. “Sometimes the best decision is a bad one.” His hand dropped. “And sometimes the worst decision ends up being the right one.”

He shrugged. “Doesn't matter. Once you've made it, it's done.” His gaze shifted to me. “Then all you can do is live with it.”

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I probably don't say it enough.”

He immediately groaned. “Oh no.”

I ignored him. “I'm proud of you.”

His expression softened.

“I know it wasn't easy.” I chuckled. “I know I made mistakes. We all did.” I squeezed his shoulder. “But I'm proud of the man you've become.”

Torvek barked a laugh. “I appreciate that.”

He pointed a warning finger at me. “But let's stop the mushy stuff before one of the others sees. They'll never let either of us live it down.”

I nodded solemnly. “Good point.”

I released his shoulder and sat there for a moment. Focused on my breathing.

I inhaled again, cupped my hands around my mouth.

“I'M CRAZY PROUD OF TORVEK!”

My voice rolled across the valley. Birds exploded from the treetops.

They probably heard me all the way in Reedwatch.

* * *

“Messenger just dropped off a letter for you,” Ashlara said, gesturing toward the table.

She'd just returned from hunting and was on her way to take a bath.

“Thank you.” I pulled her into a hug and kissed the side of her neck.

“I'm dirty,” she complained.

“Don't I know it, you dirty girl.”

Color immediately flooded her cheeks. She shoved me away. “Later. When I'm clean.” The blush remained, but so did her smile as she headed for the bathhouse.

I turned my attention to the letter. Amberleigh's signet sealed the folded parchment.

Inside was an utterly mundane trade proposal between Arvellia and me. Iron. Coal. Gems. Standard quantities. Standard rates. The sort of thing guaranteed to put me to sleep halfway through reading it.

I pricked my finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the page.

The ink writhed. Letters twisted and crawled across the parchment like living things, rearranging themselves into a second message hidden beneath the first.

Amberleigh requested my presence at my earliest convenience. Apparently he'd learned something.

The family gathered for dinner as evening settled over the keep.

Elarion and Nim were still in Caelwynne, but everyone else was home. Vel, Thae, Moss, Tansy, and Clo filled out the remaining seats around the table.

The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. Bread emerged from ovens. Vegetables were chopped. Dumplings were stirred into broth. People carried platters and bowls back and forth until the table groaned beneath the weight of it all.

Chicken and dumplings. Fresh bread. Roasted vegetables. Autumn apple salad. Corn and bean succotash.

Feeding nineteen people wasn't a meal. It was a logistical operation. Especially when six of them were teenagers and one of them was Moss.

As usual, dinner descended into chaos almost immediately. Conversations overlapped. Jokes flew. Compliments were exchanged.

Briva grunted aggressively as she stretched across the table for another piece of bread.

Morien sat quietly humming to herself while eating just the apples out of her salad - leaving everything else untouched.

Mirri smacked Torvek's knuckles with a wooden spoon when he tried stealing another piece of bread before everyone had one.

Clo burst into the middle of an unrelated conversation shouting, “He's writing checks his ass can't murder!”

“Cash,” Torvek corrected automatically.

“What?”

“The phrase is cash.”

“Writing checks his cash can’t murder? What does that even mean?”

It felt almost like the old days. Back before half my children moved out. When the house had been so crowded that privacy was a myth and peace was a rumor. When home had operated under roughly the same laws as the Wild West.

I found myself smiling through most of dinner.

Then, once the dishes were cleared and everyone settled into their evening routines, I stepped to Crownreach.

Amberleigh was waiting in his study, as usual. As was the mountain of paperwork surrounding him.

“So,” I said as I took a seat, “how did the meeting go?”

His expression darkened. “Smaller than expected.” He cleared his throat.

That wasn't encouraging.

“I sent observers,” he continued. “Arresting people immediately would have tipped our hand. Better to learn what we could first.”

“Makes sense.”

“Unfortunately, what we learned wasn't particularly satisfying.” He leaned back in his chair. A small wheeze accompanied his breath. “They were intermediaries. Middlemen. Minor nobles. Merchants. Landowners. Guild representatives.”

His mouth twisted. “People from different backgrounds. People with different responsibilities. People who didn't know much.”

I nodded.

That sounded frustratingly familiar.

“They discussed logistics. Food shortages. Refugees. Debt relief. Employment programs. Relocating orphans.” He rubbed at his temple. “Everything you'd expect a relief organization to discuss.”

After a moment, Amberleigh continued. “Near the end, six attendees were invited elsewhere.”

My attention sharpened. “And?”

“My people followed them.” He sighed and gave a short, wet cough. “They entered an abandoned manor. And then they disappeared.”

I frowned. “Transportation magic? Secret passages?”

“I don't know.” His irritation was obvious. “My people watched the manor for two days. Nobody entered. Nobody left.”

He spread his hands. “And I can't exactly send soldiers to dismantle the place brick by brick without attracting attention.”

“We captured one attendee afterward. A messenger. He talked.” Amberleigh didn't sound impressed. “He provided names, meeting locations, recruitment methods. No leadership. He either didn't know or was exceptionally convincing.”

That tracked with everything else I'd seen.

The Covenant seemed compartmentalized. Most members only knew their piece of the machine.

Amberleigh opened a folder and slid several papers across the desk. “These were among his notes.”

I glanced through them.

References to unsuitable candidates. Secondary placements. Transfer routes. Relocation procedures. Nothing definitive. Just enough to be troubling.

“What we've confirmed,” Amberleigh said, “is that the Covenant is larger than we believed.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “They genuinely help people. They move specific individuals through a separate process. And nobody seems to know where those people ultimately go.”

He broke into a short coughing fit.

I leaned back. “That lines up with what I've found.”

His eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“In my investigation I've found references to unsuitable candidates and redirected placements.”

His expression sharpened. “How many?”

“”Maybe a dozen over the last three years.”

Silence settled between us.

Then came the question I'd been dreading. “Is the governess involved?”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. “I don't think so. But it's too early to make accusations.”

The lie tasted bitter.

Amberleigh studied me for several seconds before nodding.

For now, that was enough.

“I do have bad news,” I said.

His shoulders immediately slumped. “You always do. What is it this time?” He cleared his throat again.

I sighed. “The Shepherd is back.”

“I assumed he would be after you told me he escaped.”

I rubbed my face. “Apparently his plan worked.”

Amberleigh's eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

“He's a god now.”

The old man's thick white eyebrows knitted together. “That's not good.”

“No.” I paused. “It gets worse.”

His eyes closed. “Of course it does.”

“Ornyth is mentoring him.”

Amberleigh opened one eye. “The god of ruin? I thought the Shepherd hated the gods.”

“So did I.” I spread my hands. “I have no idea why they're working together.”

“Wonderful.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is the Shepherd the god of?”

“Surrender.”

The silence that followed lasted several seconds.

Finally Amberleigh muttered, “The implications of that are troubling.”

“Yeah.” I shifted in my chair. “Also, I may have some personal business coming up.”

“Everything alright?”

“Same old, same old. The High Witan and the God-Kings may decide to make my life significantly more complicated. If they move against my family, I'm dropping everything.” I shrugged. “I'm sorry if that causes problems.”

Amberleigh looked tired. More tired than usual. More tired than the last time. “I understand.”

His voice softened. “I know what your family means to you.” A faint smile touched his lips. “And I know the sort of trouble that follows you around.”

He waved dismissively. “We'll manage. I have other people investigating as well.”

“Thank you, friend.”

He nodded.

“Anything else?”

“No.” He glanced down at his papers. “We didn't learn much.” He sighed. “But we'll keep pulling on threads.” His eyes lifted to mine. “Eventually something will unravel.”

I stood. “Then I'll leave you to it. I’ll be in contact.”

Amberleigh nodded.

“And Amberleigh?”

He looked at me from under his thick, bushy, white eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Take care of yourself.”

I stepped home.