CAIN

NINETEEN

Puddles was purring in my lap, rubbing his head against my neck. I had sat in my kitchen for too long, pots and pans in the sink now washing themselves courtesy of a spell I had casted. My table was filled with all the books I owned, the mess of my home seemingly reflecting the mess of my mind.

Despite the king's pronouncement that our deal was done and the fact that I hadn't heard from him all week (which definitely was not causing sleepless night after sleepless night), I knew that what had previously been a situation concerning the affairs of the Capital and its crown had ultimately become an issue of my own, now that magic and my dearest and only friend's father had become entangled.

The history and biography of Alice's family lay before me. I couldn't bear to touch anything concerning the history of the werewolf throne and the strife that had occurred between witch and wolf. Let the past lie dead, I thought.

Even if it felt like it was coming to haunt me.

I, of course, spent the time I wasn't pouring into research over the motives of Alpha Denver into considering Cain's words: I'll have all of you, Morgana, or none of you.

"Does this mean he will have none of me..." I whispered into Puddles' ears. He didn't respond. He was magic, but only a cat and yet his big eyes seemed to be telling me to stop wallowing and do something useful.

I knew that Denver had wanted Alice to marry the king. He had told me so himself. She must, Morgana. This is not a question of wants, I recalled him telling me at the Annual Ball. "Why murder him before they are wed?" I murmured, full well knowing the true question lay in why murder him at all?

And then there was Nikolai, who seemed to be distrusting of me, despite the fact that we had never met prior. Alpha Denver suspected me also, so if this was a situation where the most accusatory were the accused themselves, perhaps he was worth investigating.

That would mean infiltrating the palace, which although not impossible, did not seem like the best course of action either.

"Damarian," I suddenly said, "Elder of the High Court." Yes, if anyone knows anything more about this rune, it was him.

Despite being unsure on how to request a meeting with such a prominent figure, Alice was right about one thing: I wasn't the type to request.

-

A broomstick ride later (if you can call me nearly falling to my death at over what should be the national air speed limit) and I was outside a building which I truly was hoping would be grander - high court, and all that. I was getting too used to the palace, it seemed.

After knocking on the door, to no avail, I entered.

There was no security, but I supposed the wards they had placed at the entrance were supposed to deter unwelcome visitors. I did not even need to consider breaking them, suddenly painfully aware of my age and how slow those who study magic were in mastering their art.

"Hello?" I called, face to face with a receptionist who was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He sat at a desk almost taller than me. The room was just as high and modern which alarmed me. So this was the future? The last time I was talking with the High Court, I recalled round tables and draw-string bridges.

"My name is Mor-"

But he beat me to it, "Morgana Swann." I swore I could see him gulping air, as if my face was enough to suck the life from him.

I smiled all the same, "I've come to see someone named Damarian. I'm afraid I didn't catch a last name. Is he in?"

In his defence, he remained calm for a man who acted as if he had seen the face of someone who should be dead - or at least a million miles away from here. He nodded, and I was half-expecting him to tell me that I would need an appointment, but he didn't. He only pointed down the corridor.