Chapter 22-The Missing Piece

Odett’s POV

  “I should have let Joshy verify the room,” I said.

  “You should have assigned someone to verify it,” the instructor said.

  “Leadership is not proving you can hold every responsibility by yourself,” she added pointedly.

  Joshy waited until Nolan and Cassian left before approaching me. His expression carried concern instead of satisfaction, which somehow made my irritation harder to defend.

  “You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Joshy said.

  “I slept last night,” I said.

  “The night before was worse, but Mom and Grandma know about the nightmares now,” I admitted quietly.

  “All of them?” Joshy asked.

  “Enough that Grandma put protections around my room,” I said.

  “I am keeping a record, but it is a family matter,” I explained carefully.

  “Dad is not adding it to the investigation,” I added.

  “Do you want to tell me what changed?” Joshy asked.

  “Not yet,” I said with apologetic discomfort.

  “I still do not know what any of it means, and saying it again makes it feel closer,” I admitted softly.

  “Then I will not ask again today,” Joshy said with reassuring loyalty.

  “I am still counting the supplies next time you lead,” he added.

  “I would be disappointed if you didn’t,” I said.

  We ate near the edge of the dining hall. When I lost my place in the reading again, Joshy took the assignment and held it open while I finished my stew. He let me eat without asking about the dream. For once, I didn’t have to find words for it.

  “Helping me is not the same as doing my work for me,” I said with suspicious appreciation.

  “I am holding the page open because you keep trying to close it with your elbow,” Joshy said.

  “You can still read the words yourself,” he added teasingly.

  “Your generosity is overwhelming,” I said.

  “I have been told that before,” Joshy said with exaggerated pride.

  His teasing gave me a few minutes without crimson eyes or black ground. I took the book back, corrected my notes, and went to our afternoon class tired rather than frightened. It was a small difference, but I could feel it.

  The younger students used the supply hall after lunch for a separate navigation exercise. Zerina, Zander, Gaven, and Sean passed us in the corridor carrying blank maps and colored route cord. They complained about being assigned different starting points, but they knew nothing about the nightmare journal or the administrative work waiting at the castle.

  A copied message waited at Dad’s small table when we got home. He removed the sealed attachment before we sat down. The administrative page carried Sam’s name and Edric’s border seal.

  Edric would admit Sam but not the witch, vampire, or Northern guards traveling with him. Sam refused to cross until the full team could enter or Edric put each refusal in writing. I pictured him standing beside his colleagues at the boundary instead of taking the easier road alone.

  “How long can he refuse the invitation?” I asked.

  “As long as Edric refuses to recognize the joint procedure,” Dad said.

  “Sam entering alone would give Edric exactly what he wants while making every conclusion less reliable,” he explained firmly.

  “Could Edric order his guards to remove them?” Joshy asked.

  “He could order them away from the crossing,” Uncle Orian said.

  “He cannot force Sam into his territory, and Sam’s team is camped on King Arnald’s side of the boundary,” he clarified evenly.

  Edric had offered copied site records instead. The attached list named patrol times, protection inspections, and resident counts, but Dad withheld the records themselves. We could only compare when each request was sent and answered.

  “He waited almost two days before offering the copies,” Joshy said.

  “And the offer came after Sam refused to separate the team,” I said.

  “Record the sequence without assigning a motive,” Dad said.

  “Request denied, individual access offered, joint access requested again, copied records offered,” I recited with deliberate patience.

  “No motive included,” I finished reluctantly.

  “Your tone is not part of the record either,” Dad said.

  The new form made the order of Edric’s decisions clear. It told us nothing about what Sam had found and could not make the ruler open his border. It did show that Sam had refused to let his team be divided for the sake of moving faster.

  Dad collected the page when we finished. His gaze moved toward the warded journal case Mom had placed on a shelf near his desk, then returned to the border timeline. The nightmare and the official reports stayed separate. I took the case back to my room when he dismissed us.

  Grandma came after dinner to practice control in my reinforced room. Lorilie stayed close while I raised a shield at half strength. The first attempt struck the wards, and the marks around the window flared.

  “You are defending yourself from something that is not here,” Grandma said.

  “Feel the room before you decide how much power it requires,” she instructed gently.

  “It felt here when I woke up,” I said.

  “I know, but you are awake now,” Grandma said.

  “Name what is present before you answer what you remember,” she instructed gently.

  I named the bed, the journal case, Grandma’s hand, and Lorilie’s familiar presence. On the next attempt, the shield formed around only the space I chose. I could still feel my wolf, and the floor remained solid beneath us.

  Grandma made me release and rebuild the shield three more times. Each attempt began with the same list of things I could see, hear, and feel. By the last one, my power answered without the violent rush that had thrown furniture across the room.

  “The fear may return before the control feels natural,” Grandma said.

  “That does not mean you have failed or that the dream has won,” she promised firmly.

  “I would prefer if the dream stopped showing up for the lesson,” I said with weary humor.

  “So would I,” Grandma said with sympathetic agreement.

  “Until it does, we will make sure waking belongs to you,” she promised.

  Before bed, I wrote the lesson from class beneath my dream notes. The inventory had been true once and wrong when I relied on it. Mom’s news from Black Claw was true when she called. I left room in the journal for whatever we learned next.

  The girl’s name was still missing when I closed the journal. Mom had confirmed Black Claw was safe when she called, and I tried to hold on to that relief. Each time I shut my eyes, though, I saw the child again. I lay with my hand on the book and listened to the castle until I could picture the hallway outside instead of her face.