Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two

The Supreme Court - Raven

The Court's corridors had never felt longer. I walked silently between MacTire and Marchant, our footsteps echoing off the parquet flooring. Raaf brought up the rear, his presence not its usual comfort.

The letter in my pocket seemed to burn against my thigh, Lily's words haunting every step: Don't trust anyone, you can't, not with this. I wanted to trust Raaf. Had trusted him for years. But now, with suspicion pooling like poison in my gut, every shadow suddenly seemed darker, deeper--full of potential threat. The shadows are growing longer, darker, Lily had written. I couldn't help but wonder if this was paranoia fuelled by her words.

"Wait." MacTire's arm shot out, bringing me to an abrupt stop. His nostrils flared. "Smoke."

We were still thirty feet from Lily's quarters, and though I couldn't smell anything yet myself, the urgency in MacTire's voice made my heart lurch. Behind us, Raaf inhaled sharply. "He's right." he confirmed. It should have been reassuring but the delay, brief though it was, made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

"The wards--" Raaf started, but I was already moving, sprinting toward my sister's door. It stood slightly ajar, a sight that should have been impossible with the Court's protections in place.

MacTire caught me before I could burst through. "Let me." His grip was gentle but immovable. "Could be trapped."

"Someone did that to the door," I snarled, "they could still be in there!"

"Precisely," MacTire replied quietly, "it could be a trap... Marchant..."

Marchant's hand closed firmly on my arm as MacTire took up position beside the door. Raaf moved to join him, his face inscrutable. I watched, my heart in my throat as, with nothing more than a glance they moved together, sweeping into the room and clearing it with a coordination that spoke of practised ease.

The scent of smoke billowed out, along with something else--the metallic tang of broken wards. From inside came the soft scuff of boots on carpet, a muttered curse. Seconds stretched like hours before MacTire's voice carried back: "Clear. But you're not going to like this."

I pushed past him into the room and stopped dead. At first glance, it looked like a bomb had gone off. The destruction was absolute, the shelves were swept bare, her library scattered across the floor. The table upturned, her favourite mirror smashed - its shards reflecting the unnatural blue-green flames consuming a pile of smoking papers in the fireplace.

I found myself moving without conscious thought, hand reaching toward those uncanny flames. Raaf caught my wrist, his grip unexpectedly gentle. "Those aren't natural flames," he warned softly. "You'll lose more than just skin if you touch them."

I stared at the dancing flames, lost in thought as I watched another piece of my sister disappear into ash. "So, I guess, your evidence is gone?" My voice sounded distant, hollow even to my own ears.

"Not quite." MacTire's voice held a grim satisfaction, continuing only after he'd turned to face me. "We still have the letter, and the camera's SD card."

Raaf's fingers tightened reflexively around my wrist, a sharp intake of breath that might have been surprise - or something else entirely. The pressure lasted only a fraction of a second before he released me, but it was enough to make me think of Lily's words again: Not everyone is what they seem. Not even me.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling of spelled fire consuming the last of Lily's secrets.

"There's nothing we can do here." My voice came out steadier than I thought it would. I'd worked past the nausea, past the urge to sift through the destruction for anything salvageable to consider our options. Inform someone? That thought died as quickly as it formed--Trust was a currency I couldn't afford to spend, not anymore. Set up surveillance? Why? The damage was done, the trail already growing cold.

I squared my shoulders. "We should leave. Check out the recordings." The words catching in my throat as my eyes brushed over the others as I turned towards the door.

The small red box taunted me as we entered the corridor. A wan smile pulling at my lips as my fist smashed the glass, the shrill sound shattering the oppressive silence. "What?" I demanded in response to MacTire's raised eyebrow, "there's a fire, isn't there?". A giggle slipped past my lips as I led our group away from the rapidly approaching footsteps... let them try and cover this up now.

***

The fire alarm gave one final warbling cry and died as we reached my quarters. Well, I thought, that didn't take long--the sudden silence felt heavy, pressing against my ears as I disabled my wards. Simple protections, nothing like the complex weave that had sealed Lily's door, until someone had cut through them like tissue paper.

"Best check," MacTire said as soon as the door swung open, almost as if he'd read my mind.

Raaf hesitated at the threshold, before taking up his position outside. "I'll keep watch," he said, his tone neutral. Something flickered across his features - frustration? Calculation? - as he pulled the door closed.

I nodded to MacTire, grateful for his heightened senses as he scanned the room, nostrils flaring as his attention lingered on the corners where shadows gathered. Ten minutes was more than enough time for someone to slip in, plant something and get out again. The thought made my skin crawl.

MacTire moved through my rooms with practiced efficiency, his head tilting occasionally as he scented the air. I tried not to fidget as I watched him work, the closed door at my back feeling like both protection and trap.

"All clear," MacTire announced after a moment. "No new scents, no electronics that I can detect." He paused, considering. "Though I'd feel better if we reinforced your wards."

"Do it," I said, already moving toward my study. The need to see what was on that SD card, to understand Lily's final message, pulled at me like a physical force. I grabbed my laptop with trembling hands, the weight of everything I'd just seen crashing over me, threatening to shatter the fragile hold I had on my emotions.

The computer hummed to life, the sound barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears. I pulled out the letter, and laid it carefully on the desk. The paper was high-quality vellum, the kind Lily had always preferred. The sight of her elegant handwriting made my throat tight.

"What did she say?" MacTire asked, startling me despite his gentle tone. I hadn't heard him enter the study.

I stared at MacTire, his question echoing in the silence. My throat tightened, words choking me. Instead of answering, I thrust the letter toward him, unable to find the strength to read it aloud.

MacTire took the letter, his eyes searching mine briefly before dropping to the elegant lines of Lily's handwriting. His expression darkened as he read, jaw tightening with each passing line. Marchant leaned in, silent but watchful, her sharp gaze flicking between us.

When MacTire finished, he wordlessly handed it to Marchant, who scanned the contents with swift precision. As the silence dragged, the air in the room started to feel as heavy as the words etched on the paper.

"Artifacts," Marchant said finally, breaking the quiet. "That's where it started. What artifacts?"

"Eighteen months ago," I said, bile rising with the memory, "Some artifacts were stolen, Peredur tried to flog them through Bonhams," I hesitated, the wound still raw, "I intercepted the pieces before they sold but it didn't end well, and he made sure I took the fall--that's got to be what she's talking about."

"Makes sense," she observed, "and Lily seems to think it was about more than just money... it's a strong motive..."

"Dead end," I said bitterly, "the coward killed himself rather than face justice when he was found out... when Raaf proved someone was trying to frame me..." I paused, forcing myself to take a few deep breaths to rein in my anger. "It all came down to my word against his. And you can probably guess how that turned out. The Court took his side."

My fists clenched at the memory, nails digging into my palms. "They let him walk, left me to try and clean up the mess he made of my life."

"Officially," MacTire interrupted, his voice measured, "it was ruled an accident. The Seneschal asked MCD to investigate, quietly..." He gave me a pointed look. "There weren't any signs of foul play, but you know how it works. Ruling it an accident keeps the peace. No scandal, no questions."

"The old bastard thought I had something to do with it?" I snapped, the disbelief thick in my voice. "How? He got high as a kite and charbroiled himself behind a locked, and warded, door--what else could it have been?"

MacTire hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then he said, carefully, "The Seneschal wasn't protecting Peredur--he was protecting you. The quiet investigation, the accident ruling... he wanted to prove you weren't involved. He was looking out for you, in his way."

I blinked, utterly thrown. "He was trying to look out for me?" I repeated, the disbelief sharp in my voice. "Yeah, sure. I'll believe it when I see it."

But the words felt strange on my tongue, doubt creeping in at the edges of my certainty. The Seneschal had never been one to show kindness--or, at least, none that I'd ever noticed. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe there were bigger things to focus on.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter now," I said, though the words rang hollow even to my own ears. "What matters is figuring out what Lily found--and why she thought I could do something about it."

Marchant frowned, holding the letter between her fingers like it might combust. "What about this? 'Hidden in plain sight.' What does she mean? And why you?"

I shook my head, frustrated. "She said I'd know where to look. Maybe something only I'd recognise? But if that's true, why isn't it obvious?"

MacTire leaned against the desk, his gaze dropping to the letter in Marchant's hand. "She called you the key," he mused, "Maybe that's not literal. Maybe it's about intuition--your ability to read imprints."

"Maybe." My voice wavered, uncertainty gnawing at me.

"Or maybe she thought you'd connect the dots because you know her better than anyone," Marchant suggested, her tone measured. "What did she leave behind?"

I hesitated. The weight of the letter and Lily's words pressed down harder than ever. "Everything she's found waits for me," I murmured, paraphrasing. "But I don't know where she meant."

"Yet," MacTire added. His amber-tinged eyes locked onto mine. "You don't know yet. But you'll figure it out, I'm sure."

The silence stretched between us, pregnant with unspoken questions. Until, still mouthing a sentence from Lily's letter--its cryptic words burnt into my memory: You're the key, Raven, you always were. MacTire and Marchant watched, their collective tension palpable as I turned to the laptop despite the nagging feeling that I'd missed something pulling me back towards her letter, and inserted card into the laptop.

"Let's see what else she left behind," I muttered, as the card clicked home. The screen flickered to life, and suddenly--there she was.

Lily. Alive. Her image sharp and clear, looking directly into the camera with that familiar sardonic tilt to her mouth--the same expression that had always preceded her most damning observations. My breath caught in my throat, suspended between hope and dread.

Lily's image flickered, her voice crisp and controlled boomed from the tiny speakers. I slammed my hand against the spacebar looking sheepish, temporarily muting her as I adjusted the volume before allowing the video to restart.

"I may be paranoid, but I think someone's been monitoring my activities. I'm almost certain of it. That's why I hid this camera..."

MacTire leaned closer, "Looks like she was right," he muttered. "look at all those recordings!"

The laptop automatically scrolled to the next video. Masked figures moved deliberately through Lily's chambers, examining papers from her desk, carefully returning everything so they appeared undisturbed.

And on, Lily's face returned, fear and determination evident in equal measure. "Well, I guess I wasn't being paranoid. I don't know who that was, or even how they got in, but at least they didn't find..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced towards the mirror. "It doesn't matter, I've taken steps to protect my research... it's safe where they'd never think to look."

The video froze on Lily's face, her determined expression fading into static as though the footage itself resisted revealing more. A single frame flickered on screen--barely there, but unmistakable. A hand. Gloved. Reaching for the mirror.

Pulse hammering, I rewound the video, pausing it at that exact moment. The hand's size and angle enough to prove it wasn't hers. Someone else had been there. A man, probably, much taller and broader than Lily.

Unprompted, the video snapped back to life, revealing a disturbing scene. A nude female figure, her face obscured by shadows, stood in the centre of a small, blood-red circle spilt over the carpeted floor. The bird that had supplied her paint lay motionless at her feet as she gyrated through something akin to a stripper's dance.

A low, guttural chant echoed through the room, as her hips thrust wantonly. Dark energy seemed to emanate from her body, swirling around her like a sinister fog, filling the screen until the image fizzed out again in a burst of static.

"Well, that wasn't Raaf." Mactire's dry observation cut through the tension.

I snorted despite myself, my laugh slightly manic. "Blood magic," I said, "she was wiping the room..."

"It'd explain the lack of evidence, we didn't find any sign of that circle for starters, and the damage to the recordings." Mactire agreed, "but I'm no expert on rituals."

The video suddenly advanced again, to a time not long after I'd blown up in the Seneschal's office according to the timestamp. Raaf led a group of sentinels on a sweep of Lily's room, and left empty handed. A smile tugged at my lips as a hint of tension eased from my shoulders. Raaf's thorough, by-the-book search reinforcing my belief in him. I saw no hint of a hidden agenda, just a man doing his job. In seconds jubilation was replaced with anger. Allowing myself to be swayed by other's doubts like that...

The timestamp lurched ahead again, the image showing Raaf entering the room and turning to, seemingly, look directly into the camera. The video stopped abruptly, the image black as if unseen hands had covered the lens.

My relieved smile froze on my face and I swallowed hard, unable to believe what I'd just seen.

"Well," I said into the silence that followed, "Fuck."