Prim had planned to visit Helena alone. But when the interrogation was done and the task was upon her, she wanted Dante beside her. So she asked, and of course he answered.

The two stood inside Helena’s chamber as Sarasha posted herself outside the door. Prim had never actually been in here before and was shocked to find the room was nearly as big as Kallia’s bed chamber, though it didn’t have a separate entertaining suite or bathing room. Like Prim’s room, it was furnished with a bed, wardrobe, chaise, and low table. Unlike Prim’s room, it also had several shelves of books and a writing desk.

Helena stood upon the ornate rug in the middle of the room facing them, her arms folded across her loose fitting tunic, her black hair down as it always was. Prim stood close enough to Dante for her shoulder to touch his solid body, giving her courage.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left Hogard, now that your duty to keep my power in check has been released,” Prim said coldly.

The mentor gestured to the chaise, but Prim didn’t move. Helena sighed, dropping her arms to her sides. “I will remain in Hogard for a while yet, Primrose. At least a year or two. Or until I’m asked to leave.”

Prim didn't ask who she was expecting to ask her to leave or why. She didn’t care.

Helena looked over Prim assessingly. “If you’re here to talk about your memories--”

“I’m not.”

The mentor nodded. “I heard about Kern Hollon. I’m sorry for your loss.” Though her first assumption had been wrong, Helena quickly realized Prim’s true purpose in being here.

Good. Then Prim could get right into it. “I’ve already questioned those with loping, matter, and kinetic gifts. What am I overlooking?”

Helena gestured to the chaise again. This time, Prim took a seat, though Dante remained standing, positioning himself behind her. Helena dragged her desk chair over to sit across the table.

The mentor looked over Prim’s head. At Dante. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d abandoned his doll form. “Freeform shifters.”

No shit. “Do you know of any?” Prim asked. Helena again raised her gaze to above Prim’s head and the handmaiden pressed her eyes closed in annoyance. “Besides him. He didn’t do it.”

Her mentor slowly brought her eyes back to Prim. “I’ve come across some in my life, but not recently. The ones I knew would be long dead.”

Prim heard Dante shuffle behind her and she tilted her head back to look at him. His face was neutral, but she knew what was going through his mind, so she asked on his behalf. “Were they half-breeds?”

The mentor dipped her chin slowly. He wasn’t so alone after all.

“Who else could have done it?”

Helena folded her hands over her lap and tilted her head in contemplation. “A mindmolder could have forced his hand. Someone gifted with invisibility could have caught him off guard then exited right in front of you. A time manipulator could have turned the door to dust to exit then reversed the clock to set it back to right. But I know of no one with such gifts here.”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Prim reigned her eye roll at the mentor’s obfuscation of the fact that she herself was a time manipulator and instead focused on the fact that none of those made sense.

“A mindmolder is powerless without consent. Roan had a scenting gift; he would have smelled an invisible assailant. And even though the time manipulator explanation takes care of the locked door conundrum--like the ones I questioned--it doesn’t explain why he didn’t put up a fight.”

Helena merely shrugged. “I wouldn’t say a mindmolder is powerless without consent.”

Prim blinked. What the fuck was she talking about? “You told me that. You said the magic had checks and balances. That a mindmolder could only read minds by ingesting blood and could only control minds by having the person ingest theirs. Roan wouldn’t have done that!”

The mentor sighed, looking disappointed. “That’s true, but that’s not all there is to it. Perhaps you weren’t paying attention to my lesson.”

Prim’s blood began to boil. “Or perhaps it was another one of my memories you stole!”

The mentor didn’t have the decency to look ashamed, though her face lost that disappointed glare. “Mindmolders cannot read or control minds without an exchange of blood and consent, however, they can manipulate them a bit.” She straightened. “Yes, that would make sense. A mindmolder could have manipulated Roan into believing he saw--and smelled--an empty room. Perhaps they stuck around to manipulate you into seeing an empty room though they were still there. Or they manipulated you into thinking the door was locked when it wasn’t. How did you feel after you found him?”

How did she feel? Broken, lost, confused, angry, sad. Those were just words. They didn’t truly express how she felt. Luckily, she didn’t have to answer because Dante answered for her.

“How the fuck do you think she felt?” he said, placing a hand on Prim’s shoulder. It was an innocuous enough touch that Prim allowed it to stay. She needed it, anyway.

Helena actually frowned in sympathy, but quickly brought her face back to neutral, shaking her head. “Perhaps not, then. That could explain his death, but not the locked door. You would know if a mindmolder had manipulated you.”

Prim focused on the feel of Dante’s hand on her shoulder grounding her, the pain of thinking about finding Roan’s body still wracking through her. “How?”

“It drains you,” her mentor said flatly, as if it were obvious.

Prim had certainly been drained. She felt as if she was sleep walking the entire following two days. She even recalled wanting to ask Dante to carry her to her bed instead of Kallia’s bath so she could sleep, but hadn’t been able to force the words out.

A fucking mindmolder killed Roan. A mindmolder who was not Somanti--even if the creep was one, he’d killed himself long before Roan’s death.

Or perhaps someone had only made it look like he had. Just like they’d done with Roan.

Pain and anxiety faded away, replaced with anger and determination. With the need for revenge. “How do we find a mindmolder?”

Helena slowly shook her head. “You know better than most that powers can be hidden. If a mindmolder is about and doesn’t wish to be found, they won’t be.”

But nobody was perfect. Even Prim herself had been careless lately, loping into Kallia’s chamber and revealing her gift to Torra--if the Lanhami hadn’t been too distracted to realize how Prim had gotten in. She’d also revealed her dispelling trick to her escorts when she couldn’t get into Roan’s room. She should have just loped then; at least the dispelling would still be a secret if she had, but she hadn’t been thinking.

Prim sat quietly, processing. Helena only stared at her.

But Dante cleared his throat as his grip on her shoulder tightened. “What do you mean by drained? As in, her magic? Or emotionally? Physically? Would being manipulated by a mindmolder cause someone to slip into a deep sleep they couldn’t be roused from?”

The mentor’s mouth twitched, her dark eyes sparkling. “It could indeed.”