Page 79 of Shattered Veil
I close my eyes, letting my fae magic flow through my fingertips. It’s like a sixth sense, probing for hidden catches or magical wards. There’s gotta be something here, some clue to what really went down with Charling.
Nothing.
Figures though. A desk is a little obvious. If anything was hidden here by the dean, it would be concealed by magic, and in a place where the Council wouldn’t look.
Like somewhere that already uses very obvious magic, so a concealment spell wouldn’t be detected.
Such as my father’s portrait…which is spelled to reflect the king’s age and appearance as it changes—be it ever so slowly.
“Hurry up,” Lochan hisses, his eyes darting to the corridor outside.
I remove the portrait from the wall. There. A faint pulse of a different magic, almost imperceptible. My breath catches as I trace its outline. “Gotcha, you genius bastard.”
With a flick of my wrist and a whispered word, the concealed compartment behind the portrait springs open. Inside lies a thin journal. My hands shake as I lift it out, the weight of it suddenly feeling like the heaviest thing in the world.
I look up, meeting Lochan’s intense gaze. The gravity of what we’ve found hangs between us, unspoken but palpable. This could change everything—or get us both killed.
I flip through the journal, my eyes widening with each page. Holy shit. This is way worse than we thought. The Council’s corruption runs deep, their manipulation of shadow magic more sinister than even our darkest suspicions.
“Lochan,” I whisper, my voice tight. “It’s all here. The dean knew about the Council framing shadow magic users for years. He knew they were extracting it from those that had it, and using it for their own purposes. They’re have to be the ones behind his death. There’s something about Brigid—”
I break off as Lochan snatches the journal from my hands, his face a mask of barely controlled rage as he scans the pages. His jaw clenches, muscles working beneath his skin.
“This confirms it. They want to use her as a vessel for the Morrigan.”
The emotion in his voice catches me off guard. I know he has feelings he won’t allow himself to feel for Brigid. I know he feels a mate bond with her, too. I see my old friend cracking under the weight of this revelation.
“We can’t let that happen,” I say, watching him closely.
Lochan’s eyes snap to mine, fierce and burning with a protective fire I didn’t know he possessed. “No,” he snarls. “We fucking can’t.”
The magnitude of his reaction throws me. This is more than just duty or honor—this is personal for him. Despite everything, despite his hatred of shadow magic, Lochan cares for Brigid. Deeply.
Before I can respond, footsteps echo down the hallway, getting closer by the second. My heart rate spikes, adrenaline flooding my system.
“Shit,” I hiss, locking eyes with Lochan. His face mirrors my own panic.
We’ve gotta move, now.
Lochan shoves the journal into my hands, positioning himself between me and the door. His warrior instincts kick in, ready to fight if necessary.
“Portal,” he growls, barely audible.
I concentrate, willing my magic to cooperate under pressure. A shimmering portal starts to form, but it’s slow—too slow.
The footsteps are right outside now. Any second, we’ll be caught red-handed.
“Hurry up,” Lochan snaps.
The door handle starts to turn. Lochan’s muscles tense, ready to spring.
Come on, come on...
The portal finally snaps into existence, a swirl of gold, silver, and light. We step through just as the door starts to open, tumbling out into the corridor around the corner from the office.
“That was too fucking close,” I whisper, running a shaky hand through my hair.
Lochan doesn’t respond. His eyes are fixed on something further down the hallway. I follow his gaze and freeze.
