Chapter 16-The Proposal

Odett’s POV

  Uncle James reviewed the proposal twice before giving a slow nod.

  “It protects their spells without allowing a border guard to hold the only record,” he said.

  “Send the question back to them,” Uncle James instructed calmly.

  “Do not write it as a demand,” he added.

  Dad let us write the question back to the coven. Orian read every sentence, pointing out where I sounded as if I were issuing an order instead of asking for trust. An hour later, my head hurt more than it did after combat training.

  “I would rather fight the entire coven,” I complained with an exhausted expression as Joshy and I collected our schoolbooks.

  “That would probably damage the cooperation agreement,” Joshy replied with a tired smile.

  ‘Only if someone survives to complain,’ Lorilie added with a pleased growl.

  At the Academy, class continued while our message traveled north. An instructor assigned us a shelter to build, then gave every student a different part of the plan. I nearly laughed when I realized the exercise was another version of Dad’s office.

  Joshy knew where the shelter had to be built. Nolan received the list of available materials, and I was given the number and species of the people it needed to protect. Cassian knew which materials became unsafe in direct sunlight, while another student knew the ground would flood if the temperature rose.

  “We cannot begin until everyone shares their instructions,” I said firmly as Nolan reached for the wooden supports.

  “We lose points for every minute we wait,” Nolan argued with an impatient expression.

  “We lose more if we build it in the wrong place,” Joshy warned while holding up his map.

  Cassian placed his instruction card beside mine.

  “Half of those panels will trap heat,” he explained with a concerned frown.

  “That may be comfortable for wolves, but it will make the shelter dangerous for vampires and several water species,” Cassian added carefully.

  Nolan put down the wood and asked the group to share their cards. In our first year, he would have dismissed Cassian’s warning and begun building. I watched him make room for someone he once would not have listened to.

  ‘Your parents would be unbearable if they saw this,’ Lorilie said.

  ‘Dad would pretend he expected it,’ I replied silently while helping Cassian separate the safe materials.

  We finished with minutes left. The shelter looked plain, but every species assigned to us could use it, and its floor stayed dry when the instructor tested the drainage. I touched one of the supports, thinking of the coven waiting for our answer.

  “You spent more time exchanging information than building,” she said with a measured expression.

  “We needed to know what we were building before we started,” Nolan answered respectfully.

  “And if one person had refused to share?” the instructor asked.

  “We would have designed around what we knew and recorded what was missing,” Joshy replied thoughtfully.

  “Pretending we had complete information would not make it complete,” he added.

  Our team earned the highest score. Joshy’s answer stayed with me on the walk home: missing information did not become complete because we wished it were. Sam could only work with what each territory dared to give him.

  On our way out, Joshy and I passed the younger students beginning a battlefield assessment. Zerina stood with the plan her team had completed during winter break. Sean checked the information markers while Zander searched for the bag he had recovered that morning.

  Gaven was responsible for changing the retreat routes when the instructors blocked one of the roads. An older wolf on the simulated civilian team hesitated when Gaven directed him toward the eastern path, looking toward Zerina as if he expected her to repeat the order.

  “Gaven gave you the route,” Zerina said with visible irritation, although she remained beside her own command marker.

  “You do not need to hear it from me,” she added sharply.

  The student followed Gaven’s direction before the delay cost the team points. Gaven continued calling the retreat markers without waiting for Zerina’s approval. Sean adjusted the information board, and Zander carried the final wooden civilian markers across the line before the instructor closed the southern road.

  “She wanted to step in front of him,” Joshy observed with quiet amusement as we continued toward the Academy doors.

  “She still let him finish,” I replied thoughtfully.

  That mattered more than whether the older student had doubted him. Their assignment remained separate from everything waiting in Dad’s office. They were learning the same difficult lesson: a team failed whenever one voice had to be repeated by someone considered more important.

  The coven’s second response arrived before dinner. They accepted the verified-copy procedure with one change. If anyone questioned the copy, a witch chosen by the coven would join the protected communication call and confirm the seal. The witch would not be required to reveal how the spell worked.

  “That is reasonable,” Mom said with an approving expression after reading the condition.

  “It also gives every border another person to wait for,” Dad replied with a dissatisfied frown.

  “Only when someone challenges the seal,” Uncle Orian reminded him patiently.

  “Most guards will not delay a report if they know the challenge must be explained directly to the coven,” he added.

  Dad added the condition before sending the revised agreement to King Arnald. One coven and two kingdoms could not create a universal system, but they could begin testing one. Sam’s team would use the document at the next cooperating border.

  I wanted the coven’s agreement to feel like a victory. Instead, I kept seeing the territories that had not answered at all. A signed procedure could help only where someone agreed to open the gate.

  “Which answer is worse?” I asked quietly as I looked over the list.

  “No, or nothing?” I clarified.

  “Nothing,” Joshy answered with a troubled expression.

  “At least no tells us where the border is closed,” he explained quietly.

  Dad heard him and placed two new summaries on the table. Both described the same delayed report. The Northern guards recorded that it reached them with its seals intact. The coven that created it claimed one of its identifying marks was missing when the report returned.

  “Which record is correct?” I asked with growing unease as Lorilie moved closer inside my mind.

  “We do not know,” Dad answered in a controlled tone.

  “The difference could be a copying error, a damaged seal, or two people recording separate things under the same name,” he explained carefully.

  Dad made us list ordinary reasons the records might disagree before we could speak of tampering. We found six. James locked the papers away, and I understood why Dad had insisted: if we accused someone too soon, the coven and Arnald might stop sharing what little they had begun to trust one another with.

  ‘The information crossed the same border,’ Lorilie said.

  ‘They are not describing it the same way,’ she added uneasily.

  Dad had taken the summaries, but I could still picture the missing mark. A damaged copy might explain it. I wanted a better answer, and so did Lorilie; wanting one wasn’t a reason to decide we already had it.