Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The words hung in the air, heavy and irretrievable. "Lily's dead. She was the latest victim."

Father stood in the doorway, his face a mask of shock that quickly hardened into something unreadable. Guilt crashed over me like a wave. He shouldn't have heard it like that, so blunt and callous. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he turned on his heel and strode away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

I didn’t spare the Seneschal as much as a glance before I was out of my seat and following father’s rapidly disappearing back. It couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but the walk felt like it took an eternity, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts the whole way. How could I have been so careless? So caught up in my own anger that hadn’t sensed him there?

By the time we reached the ornate doors of Father's private quarters, my throat was tight with unshed tears.

I paused outside the door, hand hovering over the polished brass handle, unsure of just how welcome I’d be right now. Raaf loomed behind me, his presence the only thing stopping me from running back to my suite and curling in on myself, a blubbering wreck filled with self-loathing.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Raaf, the coward, didn’t follow.

Father stood by the window, his back to me, silhouetted against the fading daylight. The room was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of Court life muffled by thick walls and heavy drapes.

"Father," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... I'm so sorry. About Lily, and... and I didn’t mean..."

He didn't move, didn't speak.

The silence stretched between us. I swallowed hard, forcing words past the lump in my throat in attempt to fill the void. "She was..."

Finally, he turned. His face was composed, but his eyes... God, his eyes held a pain and anger I'd never seen before.

"How?" The word was barely audible, but it echoed in the stillness of the room.

I shook my head. "I don't know all the details… but it wasn’t…” My voice petered out as I searched for the right word. Good? Easy? I could have slapped myself, of course it wasn’t good – Lily was dead for fuck’s sake. But what was I meant to tell him, that she’d been butchered like a stuck pig, mutilated like the killer’s other victims, possibly while she was still aware… if my dream-vision thing was in any way real.

Some emotion I couldn’t identify flickered across his face – before it settled back into that familiar, stoic mask. Without a word, he moved to his desk and sank into the chair behind it.

I followed him, stepping further into the room, clasping my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous trembling. Movement to my left caught my eye. A woman rose gracefully from one of the high-backed chairs by the fireplace. She moved lithely, stepping behind father’s chair and resting a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes, a startling metallic silver, met mine with surprising warmth.

"You must be Raven," she said, her voice melodious but tinged with sadness. "I,” she hesitated, seemingly changing her mind about whatever it was she was about to say, “I... I'm so sorry for your loss."

She turned, her hand starting to drift from father’s shoulder, as if she intended to leave but his hand snapped up, clasping her hand in his. “Celeste,” he said, “stay…”

Ah, the new stepmother-to-be no doubt. What bloody brilliant timing.

I shifted uncomfortably watching the pair, suddenly feeling like an intruder in my own father's study. "I... I should go," I muttered, turning towards the door.

"No." Father's voice, firm and commanding, stopped me in my tracks. "We need to talk about this, Raven."

I turned back, bracing myself. "About Lily?"

"About Lily," he nodded, "and about your involvement in the investigation."

My jaw clenched. Here it comes. "What about my involvement?"

Father's eyes met mine, his gaze steady. "Aldric has already informed me of his decision to keep you out of this investigation. I agree with him."

"You can't be serious," I said, my voice rising. "It's Lily we're talking about! My sister!"

"I’m aware," Father replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "You're too close to this now Raven... I wouldn’t want to see you do something… rash."

I laughed bitterly. "Oh, that's rich. So my judgment’s compromised is it, but yours isn't? Tell me you’re just going to sit there, convince me you’ll watch and wait for the Met to get a clue… because I think," I snarled, “you’ve forgotten that I know you father, you’re planning something, I know you won’t rest until whoever’s responsible is dealt with, permanently.”

Pain flashed across his face, quickly replaced by stern resolve. "I haven't forgotten anything. Including my responsibilities to this Court, to our people. You’re a loose cannon Raven, I just can’t risk it, risk you. Not now."

"Risk it?" I spat. "You know I can help, but heaven forbid you risk your precious control over me… How many more innocent lives are you willing to waste by sidelining me?"

Celeste stepped forward, her silver eyes filled with concern. "Perhaps there's a way Raven could help… Her abilities could be valuable…"

"No," Father cut her off, though his voice was gentler when addressing her. "I'm sorry, my dear, but the Seneschal's decision is final. Raven will remain here, where we can ensure her safety."

"My safety?" I scoffed. "Or your reputation?"

Father's eyes flashed with anger. "That's enough, Raven. This isn't about reputation or control. It's about protecting you, and protecting our way of life."

"Protecting me by locking me up? By ignoring my abilities when they could help catch Lily's killer?" I shook my head in disbelief. "You're a coward, hiding behind rules and protocols while people die."

The words hung in the air between us, sharp and cutting. Father's face hardened, but I caught a glimpse of hurt in his eyes before he masked it.

"This discussion is over," he said, his voice cold. "You will remain at Court, Raven. That's final."

I stared at him for a long moment, my chest tight with anger and grief. Then, without another word, I turned and stormed out of the study, slamming the door behind me.

***

I wandered aimlessly through the private wing, alone with my thoughts. Alone, save for Raaf, who followed at a discreet distance. His silent vigil both comforting and irritating. Part of me wanted to lash out, to push him away like I'd done with everyone else. But I knew he was just doing his job and, truthfully, I was grateful for the illusion of solitude he provided.

Anger bubbled in my chest, threatening to spill over - my footsteps echoed off the marble tile, reverberating like gunshots in the empty space. Protect me my arse, I fumed, this was about control, pure and simple.

But beneath the fury, a deep sadness gnawed at me. Lily was gone, and I'd never see her smile again, never hear her laugh. The weight of my loss pressed down on me, slowing me, each step feeling like wading through molasses. The opulent surroundings feeling more oppressive than ever. Portraits of stern-faced men and women seemed to glare down at me, their judging eyes following my every move.

My feet carried me, almost of their own accord, to the grand library. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood washed over me as I pushed open the heavy doors. Here, at least, I could find some semblance of peace.

"Wait outside," I muttered to Raaf, not bothering to look back as I made my way to my usual hiding spot. I sank into the plush armchair and hugged my arms around me, my body suddenly feeling as heavy as my heart.

The events of the day crashed over me like a tidal wave, and the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over, hot trails of grief and frustration marking my cheeks.

Eventually my sobs quieted, and my gaze drifted to the shelves around me. These books had been my refuge so many times before, but now they felt like silent witnesses to my impotence.

My eyes caught on a familiar spine – Historia Regum Britanniae - an ancient human tome that Lily and I had pored over as teenagers, laughing at the surprisingly accurate tales of court, heroes and magic… Lily and I had spent countless hours debating whether Geoffrey of Monmouth was actually a supernatural himself. I’d insisted he must have been, given the uncannily accurate details he included about our world.

Lily, ever the sceptic, had argued that he was only a talented human with an overactive imagination. We'd playfully bicker about how the Court could have possibly allowed such a book to be published if Geoffrey was indeed one of us.

The memory hit me like a physical blow, driving me to reach for the book. I hadn’t been leafing through the worn pages for long before a sharp pain lanced through my finger.

"Shit," I muttered, quickly sticking the paper cut in my mouth. My eyes widened in horror as I realised a few drops of blood had landed on the ancient page. Panic set in as I frantically searched for something to blot it with, terrified of the trouble I get in for damaging such a priceless tome. Why hadn't I put the bloody gloves on? Even as kids, Lily and I had known better than to handle it with our bare hands - the librarian would have my head if she found out, assuming she didn’t just hand me over to the Seneschal.

But as I watched, something impossible happened. Instead of staining the paper, my blood seemed to sink into it, soon disappearing completely. My jaw dropped as the familiar text began to fade, and was replaced by strange glyphs I'd never seen before.

The transformation spread across the page like wildfire, and soon the page was covered with those unfamiliar glyphs dancing across its surface. One by one they started to vanish, leaving behind a spidery script I could barely read.

When ancient gates are wrenched apart,
The First will rise with shadowed heart.
Out of darkness men will crawl,
As one by one, the veils all fall.

Death stretches forth her vengeful hand,
To claim dominion o'er the land.
With silent screams flesh will yield,
As ancient evil holds the field.

At first glance it’d seemed to be nothing more than nonsense but, as more was revealed, a chill ran down my spine... the words seemed to be spelling out a hidden… something… a prophecy?

And they’d been triggered by my blood.

What the actual fuck?