Cael stared deeply into his mirror, his face going placid. “Ready, Princess,” he said, his voice soft and dream-like.

  Wren’s bushy brows shot up into his hairline.

  Locke leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her knees. “Damn,” she breathed. “You were always a slippery little bastard. Was this why?”

  Even in a light trance, Cael managed a smug smirk. “Yes.”

  “How’d we ever manage to catch you?”

  “Luck.”

  Wren reached over and waved his hand in front of Cael’s face. I smacked it away.

  “Princess?” Cael prompted again, his forehead wrinkling in concentration.

  Right.

  Cael wasn’t a radio tuner — he needed to know what to look for.

  I leaned back, thinking hard. “The operation was risky: one person goes to the Watch, and it’s over. And no one they dealt with – customers, other slavers – was exactly honourable. The boss… she’d have kept some kind of insurance.”

  “… Need more.”

  “Some kind of records. A set of books? My name’s probably listed — it’s too much leverage not to be. Lilian’s … probably isn’t.” I had a feeling all Trefore had wanted was ‘a child.’ Lilian had likely just been the most convenient.

  Cael’s lip curled in disgust. His fingers tightened around the mirror, his knuckles going white. It took a few seconds for him to relax again.

  He shook his head slowly. “More.”

  I bit my lip. Was I on the wrong track? There had to be something…

  “How about the hiding spot?” Locke asked suddenly. “Can you find that? Easy to get to if you needed it fast, hard to get in unless you already know where it was. Maybe somewhere most people wouldn’t have access to.”

  “… Boxes. False bottoms. … Fake wall. Hollow. Big…”

  “Which wall?”

  “Basement. North-east… Feels old.”

  “Hard to get to in a hurry, then. It’s probably not what we’re after. Best guess, it’s a hidey-hole from when the place was built.” Locke frowned and nudged Asher with her elbow. “We’ll send some officers to check anyway.”

  Locke’s elbow jolted Asher back into action, and he began scribbling more notes. He'd been sitting there, frozen, his jaw tense as he watched intently.

  I was the target of his scrutiny, not Cael. I had a few guesses as to why.

  “… Desk. Between two drawers …” Cael’s face tensed, his brows creasing in concentration. “Something… it’s blurry…”

  He groaned and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose and blinking furiously. “Sorry. That’s all I got. Think the desk’s the best bet. Something fucking blocked me.” He glanced at me meaningfully.

  … He thought it was an Enchantment. There was something there worth hiding.

  Locke hmmed. “We’ve been tearing open boxes, and it’s all drugs and stolen goods. Seems dumb to hide something like that where it can get confused with the merchandise. Which desk?”

  “Was it the big, fancy-looking one?” I asked eagerly. I remembered vaulting over it and sending papers flying. It hadn’t looked completely emptied it at the time — there was a good chance the blackmail material was still there.

  “That’s the one. Boss never let anyone godsdamned near the thing.”

  I glanced at the inspectors. “Where is it?”

  “Evidence lockup,” Locke replied. “Dragged everything we could back here. There was too much to process on site — we can’t keep the damned place secured for long enough.”

  “Excellent.” I stood, wrapping my heavy cloak around my shoulders.

  Locke looked taken aback. “You want to check the desk now?!”

  “No time like the present.”

  “… You sure, Princess?” Cael asked softly, casting a glance at the inspectors. “Pretty sure they can handle it.”

  I paused, my fingers resting on the open clasp at my throat.

  He was right — I didn’t have to handle the enchantment personally. With some time and effort, a skilled Enchanter or Alchemist could break most spells. It wouldn’t be cheap or fast, but it was doable. The Watch probably had someone on contract for exactly that purpose.

  It had been Cael’s choice to reveal his secret. He wasn’t going to force me to risk mine as well.

  “You trust them. And I trust you.” I smiled, fastening the clasp and straightening my heavy cloak over my shoulders. “We need that evidence. If I do it, it’ll be faster and more precise.”

  “… Thanks, Princess.”

  ————————-

  Locke hadn’t been exaggerating.

  Our evidence wasn’t just stuffed into some storage room. The sheer volume they’d brought back was so large, it had earned its own small warehouse.

  The walk there was brutal. The buildings formed a wind tunnel of sorts, channeling the frozen gusts straight at us. By the time we arrived, my cheeks burned and my nose was numb.

  The sergeant at the duty desk grumbled as we pushed the door open, setting his paperwork to fluttering. We scurried inside, chased by the blowing snow.

  I tried to rub some life back into my chilled fingers.

  “Inspectors Jennifer Locke and Sean Asher, escorting Earl Southsea and his entourage,” Locke announced to the sergeant. She picked up a clipboard off his desk and began filling it in.

  Grunt. “They authorized?”

  “Yes. They’ve got authorization. Commander can confirm it.”

  “How long?”

  She waggled her hand, still holding the pen. “Half hour, maybe? Anyone else in here?”

  He jerked his head back towards the stacked crates behind him. “Three clerks. Still cataloguing all this crap.”

  “Hmm.” She finished signing us in, and casually laid the clipboard down. “Any chance you could do me a solid, Fisher? I need them to clear out while we’re here. You too — take an early lunch.”

  One of his brows rose incrementally and he glowered at her, clearly unimpressed. “Now that, you don’t have authorization for.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Locke groaned theatrically. “I know, but his Lordship ‘requested’ it. Commander said to ‘provide any assistance,’ and keep the guy out of his hair. That’s what I’m doing. Asher and I’ll keep an eye on them.” She huffed. “You think I’m gonna do anything to compromise a career-maker like this case?”

  “… Fine.” He stood. “But if this goes tits-up, it’s on you.”

  She saluted cheekily. “Got it, Sarge.”

  He grunted once again and strode irritably through a set of double doors that led deeper into the warehouse.

  I shot Locke a questioning glance.

  “Not sure what you’ve got up your sleeve, but didn’t think you wanted an audience.” She grinned and shrugged. “Figured this was the easiest way.”

  “I— Thank you.” I sketched a brief bow. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A few minutes passed before the sergeant returned, shepherding a trio of confused but enthusiastic clerks. As they pulled in their coats and headed out, he glanced back over his shoulder.

  A slight grin cracked his stony glower. “Thanks for treating us, Inspector.”

  The door fell closed behind him.

  She stared forlornly after them.

  “Please, send the bill to House Dusk,” I told her. “This is for my benefit. The least I can do is over the cost.”

  “... I’m not too proud to take you up on that offer.” She massaged her forehead. “Fisher thinks he’s a damned gourmet. Wherever they’re going, it won’t be cheap.”

  With a tired sigh, she turned and pushed open the double doors, leading us into the warehouse area itself. As we followed Locke, Sam leaned against the wall just beside the door while Cecil slunk around the desk and stole the sergeant’s seat. The message was clear: no one was getting in without going through them.

  I was grateful — not just for their competence, but their discretion. I’d only known them a few hours, and unlike Locke and Asher, they didn’t have a Wren to vouch for them. Professionals or not, I wasn’t ready to share my secrets with them just yet.

  As we wound through the warehouse, Locke began a running tour, proudly explaining their cataloguing process and setup.

  Her partner, meanwhile…

  I subtly glanced back at him as we rounded a stack of haphazardly placed crates.

  He was still watching me.

  He’d been quiet for a while now, not saying anything ever since Cael’s reading. It felt like I was a puzzle he was still trying to solve. Or a danger he was still assessing.

  “Here we go!” Locke announced.

  She led us into a small clear space near the back of the warehouse. A lone table stood in the middle, with a small pile of evidence logbooks lying on top.

  Beyond the table stood the three desks from the slaver’s warehouse, their contents placed neatly into labelled boxes stacked on top of each one.

  Locke scanned the numbers stencilled on the sides. She pulled a logbook out of the pile, flipped through it, and ran her finger down the open page.

  “Catalogued, documented, and sketched.” She snapped the book closed. “We’re clear.”

  Without waiting for another prompt, Cael strode over to the largest desk and began removing the drawers, carefully setting them on the floor beside it. Then, with a frown of concentration, he reached inside each of the openings and began feeling the space between.

  “Found it.” He grinned, his hands paused between the bottom two openings on the left. “This one. Bottom’s thicker.”

  Locke crouched beside him, reaching past him and comparing it with the divider above. “You sure? It feels like it’s the same.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t focus on just the one thing. Try and feel … everything. The fucking thing flickers.”

  She went still, her face intent.

  Then her eyes went wide. “Hells.”

  He grinned. “Always works, too.”

  “How?”

  “I think you’re overloading the spell. Just temporarily,” I added, thinking back to Thea’s lessons. She loved sharing technical theory. “Enchantments do a specific task in a specific way. The more one needs to do — in this case, the more ways it needs to fool you — the more complicated it gets, and the harder it is to cast.”

  I ran a hand across the top of the desk, trying to get a feel for any overlying magics. There were a few — solid but nothing extravagant. What I would expect from a decent craftsman’s workshop.

  “If you ask a concealment spell to handle more than it was intended to, all at once, something will slip through.”

  “Think you can deal with it, Princess?”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I can’t tell through the damned desk, Cael. Move over a bit.”

  He did as I asked, shifting to the side with a small smirk.

  I reached inside and let myself feel.

  “It’s not an original spell, it was added after. The … style? Signature? … It’s different. More complicated. The caster was skilled – oh hells!” I recoiled, clutching my hand and staring at the desk in alarm.

  “Princes?! You hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine. I— it’s a trap.”

  “… Wait, what?”

  “Someone knew what they were doing. There’s another spell under the concealment spell, partially intertwined with it,” I explained, gesturing with my hands and interlocking my fingers. “The first spell is covering the second, so I can’t get a good sense of it, but I think it’s also linked with all the other spells on it — the ones that protect it from rot, or keep it from getting stained.”

  Anyone relying on the standard tool set to examine the concealment spell would never have noticed it.

  Asher leaned forward and peered into the darkened cubby. “What’ll the trap do?”

  I shrugged. “My best guess? It destabilizes itself and all the other spells attached to it, and then they all explode.” Magic always had to go somewhere. Depending on the circumstances, it could do so violently. “It must have taken weeks to layer it all together; I’m honestly surprised they didn’t blow themselves up attempting it.”

  “… So, I don’t need to remind you about our deal and drag your tiny ass outta here,” Cael clarified.

  “No. I’m well aware I’m in no shape to Break a spell. Even if I were, I’m not sure I could dismantle this thing.” I nibbled absently on my knuckle as I contemplated the desk. “I can’t Break the concealment spell without triggering the trap, and I can’t fully sense or dismantle the damned trap because the concealment spell is covering it.”

  Locke looked over at Asher, her brow creased. “We have anyone on retainer who can deal with something like this?”

  Asher paused thoughtfully, leaning back against the clerk’s table and drumming his fingers. “… No. I don’t believe we do. And I’m not sure who we could ask.”

  Wren scoffed. “C’n think of maybe… three Enchanters wi’the chops. Ferget firstborn, ye c’n buy a kingdom fer what they’ll charge. No Alchemists neither — tryin’ te Break more’n one enchantment at once? Don’t go so well.”

  “… Damn it.” Locke bit her lip, eyeing the desk like it was insulting her personally. “Any other options?”

  “Ye find who casted it. Make’em tell ye ‘ow t’open it.” He laughed darkly “An’ ‘ope they dunn’ae lie. Else it ends bad. Nah, Hexbreaker’s yer best bet. Lucky we got’un.”

  I wasn’t surprised Wren had realized what I was. Sensing the shape of spells the way I did was a Hexbreaker-specific ability, and a dead giveaway.

  He glared at me sulkily. “Not that’e tells me nuthin’. Startin’ te think ye don’ trust me, Lad.”

  I winced. I could hear the pain under his pout — I’d hurt him deeply.

  “I’m sorry, Wren. I trust you. Truly. I should have told you about my memory sooner; I was afraid. I should have trusted you. But this?” I shuddered.

  “When my Talent… was awakened after my accident, my brother and I had a long talk about exactly what would happen if I were discovered, especially by the kingdom’s officials. I wouldn’t be a ‘person’ anymore. I’d become the kingdom’s ‘asset,’ under the council’s control.” I glanced at Asher. “Which includes your uncle, and others just like him.”

  ”I’m still very much afraid. I — we,” I gestured to include Cael, “are taking a massive risk sharing our Talents with all of you. And I’m only comfortable with it because I trust Cael, and because I trust you and your judgement. Co-operating with the Inspectors is the most efficient strategy. Not the only one.”

  “I’m with Princess on this.” Cael crossed his arms and scowled. “Death’s better.”

  Wren’s hand fell on my shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “Ye damned ‘neep. Promised ye, din’I? I’ll keep ye safe.” He glanced at Cael. “Both’uf ye.”

  “Was that why you were so damned vague when we took your statement? When you described freeing the others?”

  “Yes. I Broke the enchantment on the lock, then Cael picked it.”

  “Figures.” Locke sighed glanced tiredly at Cael. “And you? I’m guessing you’re the one who found Lord Violet?”

  “Yeah. Told his Lordship where to look. The others? Found’em the same way.”

  “Did you look for your boss?”

  “No good. Nothing for me to follow.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Should’a guessed the bitch was bad news. Knew more about Princess after a half hour than I knew about her after months.”

  Asher sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he broke his odd scrutiny. “Which explains the holes in your statements. You were protecting each other.”

  I nodded.

  “I owe you an apology, Lord Dusk. When I learned your friend was a Seer, I thought the worst.”

  I grinned wryly. “Let me guess. You suspected I’d done something underhanded. That I’d put him in a compromising situation in order to get control of him. Like your uncle, the Marquis might have.”

  “It crossed my mind. His sentence is a matter of record; I’m aware of the details. I was worried about his safety.”

  “Is that what had you so upset?” Locke shot her partner a look of disbelief. “Your crazy family did a number on you. Normally you don’t second guess yourself like that.”

  “… My experiences growing up might have clouded my judgement. A bit.”

  “And I’m glad you’ve realized it. Really. It’s great. Except it still doesn’t help us with this heap of junk!” She snarled and kicked the side of the desk.

  Something wooden rattled inside.

  Cael and I flinched simultaneously.

  Asher sighed and massaged his temple. “Please don’t kick our evidence, Jenny.”

  “It’s fine.” She kicked it again for emphasis. Foolishly, in my opinion. “If this was going to set something off, it’d have blown up the cart on the way here. The rookies who loaded everything and dragged it back weren’t exactly delicate with it.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to behave like Wren does when he’s pouting,” he retorted.

  As they bickered, I tapped my lip, the possibilities spinning through my head. Maybe we didn’t need to break the enchantments after all….