Erick nodded once. “I’ve sent a coded raven message to him, and he’s agreed to meet us in Belle.”
“Belle!” I exploded incredulously. “But it’ll take us a week to get to Belle.”
“Or a day,” Erick corrected me. “As we’re in Ashley now.”
We were in Ashley? How long had I been unconscious? It had to have taken them days to get here. And what the hell were we doing so far from Tyler? I needed to get back to Tyler. Tyler was the last place I’d seen Quilla.
I instinctively didn’t want to stray far away from where I’d last seen her, though logically, the likelihood of her being kept in Tyler was small. My guess would be for the king to bring her to Elaina—the capital of High Cliff—for this ritual thing, so he could personally oversee it. And Belle was closer to Elaina than we were now. So, meeting there made more sense.
But still, it felt strangely wrong to me.
“We’ll have to meet him in person in order to explain everything,” Erick was saying, “because too many coded messages might alert Father to some kind of duplicitous behavior from us. We have to be smart about this.”
I nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Erick. Even if this doesn’t work...” I blew out a calming breath and clasped his arm. “Thank you for at least trying for me.”
Erick checked us into an inn just outside of Belle a day later.
I was a complete wreck. Sometimes, I’d allow myself to wonder about her.
Was she okay?
Being tortured?
Still even alive?
And sometimes I raged out of control, breaking something near me.
But letting myself think about different ways she could have suffered and died was when the panic would attack the strongest. Black spots would form in my vision, and my breathing would ratchet out of control. I’d let myself picture worst-case scenarios, where she was chained, unable to defend herself, and hurt in every way imaginable.
I would press my palm against the scab growing over my temple, willing my mark to return, until the wound broke open and began to bleed, but it never revealed a single thing to me about Quilla’s location or welfare.
The only way I could ever control the desperate anxiety and terror that sloshed through my veins like acid was to get mad. I locked on to the anger like a drowning man clinging to a log floating by, gasping and digging my fingernails into the bark, knowing I’d go under and suffocate if I dared to let go of it.
It started to grow clear to me why Quilla had always been so angry. When you couldn’t control anything, fury became your power. I might not know where to find her, but I could concentrate on all the ways I was going to mutilate her captors when I caught them. So wrath became my close friend.
Feeling it simmer just under the surface, I watched Erick exit the inn’s main house and tip his chin to me.
“Vander’s already here,” he announced. “He’s checked into the cottage at the end.”
I pivoted and started that way, relieved we wouldn’t have to wait for him. At the last lodge on the row, I knocked on the door and it was opened almost immediately.
Olivander was probably the tallest of the three Bjorn princes, though not as wide as Urban. He grew his hair longer too, letting the dark locks fall past his shoulders. When he bothered to smile, he had a dimple, like his sister Allera, and his blue eyes were considerably paler than the others, bordering on almost eerie.
“Indy?” he said in surprise before the dimple flashed and he tugged me into the cottage for a quick hug. “I had no idea you’d be here. Hell, I had no idea you were in High Cliff at all. Growing a beard now, huh?” He reached out and gave it a brief, teasing scratch. “Makes you look a bit—huh—a bit violent, actually.”
“I’d say that properly represents his mood, then,” Erick answered, entering the cottage behind me and shutting the door at his back. “Darkness seems to have become Indigo’s middle name these last few days.”
Olivander’s smile faltered. “Uh-oh. Found some trouble for yourself, did you, old friend?”
Erick quickly highlighted the details of my predicament. And as he spoke, Olivander pressed a finger against his lips and squinted in confusion as he glanced back and forth between me and his brother.
“So…” he finally said, shaking his head and widening his eyes when Erick was done talking. “You want my help to locate and save a Graykey?”
“I need your help finding my mate,” I growled impatiently, clarifying the situation.
“Who’s a Graykey,” he added, blinking a lot as if trying to comprehend that one.
“Look. Are you willing to help or not?”
“Of course,” he answered immediately. “I’d tear the entire Outer Realms apart looking for Unity if someone took her. And we’re not even married yet.”
Olivander was significantly older than his true love. He’d met her and realized she was his soulmate when she was just a babe in the cradle, and when she’d turned twelve, he had sent her away to Tipton for schooling. But that had been years ago, and—wait—now that I thought about it, she was probably old enough to have graduated from the ladies’ academy by this point. These days, she had to be old enough to return to the castle and marry.
I wonder why they hadn’t married yet.
But Olivander’s love life made no difference to me. I just wanted my mate back.
“I can imagine what you’re going through,” Olivander murmured sympathetically. “And I love solving a good mystery. Besides…” He quirked a sardonic, dry smile. “How could I refuse a chance to defy Father?”
I swallowed, not daring to hope. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
Olivander chuckled and lifted a leather satchel that had been sitting on a nearby table. Flipping open the top flap, he revealed the contents, which was full of scrolls.
“Oh, I have plenty of ideas,” he answered.
Chapter 38
Indigo
Olivander and I got to researching as soon as Erick left us, claiming he needed to get back to the capital before his absence began to look suspicious.
“I’ve charted Father’s comings and goings for the past ten years on this scroll. Where he goes, who he visits, and how long he’s gone.” He tossed that scroll onto the table only to pick up another. “On this one, I’ve copied all the financial records that have been reported in the kingdom’s coffers: where the money is spent, who it goes to, and for what reason.”
After he discarded the second scroll, I picked it up and unrolled the spools so I could study it. Olivander went on explaining a few more he had, but I blocked him out, frowning at names, dates, and prices, running my finger along the list as I went. When I saw a name I recognized, it pinged in my head.
I saw it again, then again, once every moon cycle, in fact. I went back in time, checking for more transactions, only to realize that Everett of House Teller had been receiving the same stipend for supplies from King Ignatius for the last two years.
“What’s this?” I asked, showing it to Olivander.
He squinted over and took the scroll from my hand. “The payments to Teller?” he asked, glancing up in question.