Aligning the Forgotten ✓

Chapter 15: Silas

Hallie's attitude doesn't appear to faze Mills, but Dalis can't say the same. A muscle feathers in her jaw and she stares at the floor instead of meeting the eyes of anyone in the room. The sapphire ice in her eyes isn't pleasant to face.

"What I'm trying to tell you is that through ways of my family in Lona, I believe there is a descendant hiding out there. She's old and has hardly anything left in her life that makes it worth anything. Although the immortal blood of the original witches flows through her, she's discovered the burden that her family line has placed and is willing to live a lonely life so the name dies with her."

Mills's truth settles in Silas's stomach like a rock. There's a possible descendant in Lona, all the way across the kingdom. A trek across the kingdom at a time like this would not go unnoticed, and if the king is aware of the descendant, he'll know where Silas is going without a second thought. An unfinished plan is already brewing in his mind as the old chef speaks again.

"She's the only one that can reverse the king's control on Roux. If she's still alive, she'd be willing to help, so this doesn't happen again. With the help of the original witches guiding her, she can ban the spell completely so the king can't create more soldiers." Mills, unable to stand any longer than he has to, sits on the edge of his bed. The frame creaks from that movement alone, a testament to what would happen if Silas took a seat.

Age is tearing this man apart. Dalis looks on so she doesn't have to accept the fact that the man who adopted her doesn't have much longer. Soon there won't be a familiar face in the kitchen, but a stranger she has to work alongside. No one wants that, not a single witch in this castle.

"The original witches are dead—how can they guide her?" Hallie asks. That determination is back on her face.

"Through the spirits." The idea isn't at all preposterous, Silas can believe it, but others are harder to convince. "Don't doubt the ways of the original witches, their powers were raw—some considered them to be sorcerers instead of the witches we've grown to become today. While we have a limit, mortal and immortal alike, they could control anything they wished. Including the ways of spirits."

Hallie clears her throat, a sign she's annoyed. If anyone is aware of her signs, it's Silas. "I don't mean to be rude, but putting all my faith in the matter of spirits doesn't seem like a smart plan."

"You speak like someone that wishes to kill her," Dalis snaps.

A new fire awakens in the dimly lit room, evident so by the blue flame in Dalis's eyes. She holds the power of water underneath her skin and there's no telling what she can do with it; if she shoves it down Hallie's throat and into her lungs...there's no coming back from that.

Silas realizes he has to stop this before something gets out of control. "We're all on edge here; no one knows exactly what to do." That seems to calm the rage enough in Dalis's eyes, she blinks herself back to reality, barely shifting her gaze to meet the prince's. "As we're under the king's watch, we don't know what will work and what won't. But finding the descendant is a good start. It's the least we can do and the first thing we should try."

"You're noticeable, prince," Dalis points out. "The king will realize you're gone. You said it yourself, we're all underneath his watchful eye. We've had more inspections since that night and they're more thorough. The king's men are looking for servants to punish." She directs that angst at Silas in hopes he'll feel the guilt of his father's doing. It doesn't fail.

But Hallie's next statement cuts through the room like a sharp knife. "Maybe you're being paranoid." Not advice, not an apology, and definitely not anything that contributes to the situation. She's testing the witch of water, and through her words, is asking for trouble.