Chapter 183 — The Numbers Didn’t Match

Chapter 183: Chapter 183 — The Numbers Didn’t Match

~ Cassian ~

The last record was almost useless.

Cassian read the final paragraph anyway, turned the page and found nothing except the faded seal of whoever had archived it nearly two centuries ago. He stared at the empty space beneath it for a moment before closing the file and adding it to the stack beside him.

The table had disappeared beneath everything House Blade had managed to preserve on Dreamwalkers. Old reports sat beside personal journals, incomplete witness statements and restricted records that had required enough family authority to remind Cassian exactly why he hated needing anything from this place.

Most of them contradicted one another.

Some insisted Dreamwalkers could only enter sleeping minds, while others described victims losing time while fully awake. One account claimed physical distance mattered, while another described a wolf waking hundreds of miles from the person later accused of interfering with his memories.

The details changed constantly, but the important parts did not.

Dreamwalkers entered places nobody else should have been able to reach, and what they did once they were there went far beyond watching dreams.

Cassian glanced down at the notes he had made over the last six days.

Memories could be removed, distorted or returned differently from how they had been taken. Several victims described familiar people suddenly inspiring fear, resentment or affection without any clear reason, while others carried thoughts they believed were entirely their own until something finally happened that made them question where those thoughts had come from.

That part had bothered Cassian enough that he checked it against three separate records.

The same pattern appeared in all of them.

A Dreamwalker did not always need to erase someone’s memory when changing the emotion attached to it could accomplish exactly the same thing. Some victims eventually realized what had happened, while others never did, and then there were the records where nobody discovered the Dreamwalker at all.

Cassian leaned back in the chair and rubbed one hand slowly across his mouth.

Six days.

He had spent six fucking days inside rooms he had avoided whenever possible since leaving for Valerius, opening shelves that had not been touched in years and forcing people who clearly preferred certain records forgotten to find whatever else House Blade might have buried.

At least the time had not been wasted.

He knew considerably more now than he had when he arrived. He understood how prolonged interference could damage memory, how emotional associations could be altered and how suggestions might remain inside someone’s thoughts long after a Dreamwalker had gone. He had even found accounts of victims becoming uncertain whether decisions they had made were truly theirs.

It was useful.

Just not useful enough.

Cassian still had nothing that could put a face to the bastard inside Valerius, and understanding exactly how dangerous something was did not necessarily make it easier to kill.

He gathered the useful pages and slid them into the leather folder beside him just as a quiet knock touched the open door.

"You’re leaving again?"

The voice was far too young to belong anywhere near the records covering his desk.

Cassian looked over his shoulder.

A little girl stood in the doorway with one hand curled around the frame. Her white hair had been tied back badly enough that several strands had already escaped around her face, and judging by the stubborn set of her mouth, whoever had tried fixing it that morning had probably lost the argument halfway through.

Cassian’s expression softened before he could stop it.

"Sylvia."

She immediately took that as permission and hurried inside. "You didn’t answer."

"I was considering it."

"You were leaving."

"I am leaving."

Her face fell almost immediately.

Cassian closed the folder and stood as she reached him. At six, the top of Sylvia’s head barely came above his waist, although that had never stopped her from behaving as though height was simply another problem that would eventually correct itself.

She looked over the papers scattered across his table. "Is this academy work?"

"No."

"House work?"

"Unfortunately."

Sylvia wrinkled her nose, and Cassian almost smiled again.

"I can’t wait until I go to Valerius."

"That is several years away."

"I know."

"You’ll probably change your mind."

"I won’t."

Cassian chuckled. "Everyone says that at six."

Sylvia folded her arms. "You didn’t."

Cassian paused.

The satisfaction on her face made it obvious she knew she had caught him.

He reached down and ruffled her hair, ruining whatever remained of the attempt to tie it properly. "Valerius is not as interesting as you think."

"You’re there."

"That does not improve the argument."

"It does to me."

The answer came so easily that Cassian’s hand slowed against her hair.

Sylvia smiled up at him. "When I’m old enough, we can go together."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "By the time you’re old enough to enter Valerius, I’ll have graduated years before."

Her smile vanished. "That isn’t fair."

"I’ll inform the Headmaster."

Sylvia appeared to consider that seriously for several seconds before suddenly brightening.

"I’ll ask Daddy. He can make them let you stay longer, or maybe he can make me go early." She looked up at him expectantly. "Daddy can do that, can’t he?"

Cassian’s hand stopped.

The smile disappeared from his face before he realized it had.

Sylvia continued watching him, waiting for an answer, and after another second Cassian dragged his fingers lightly through the mess he had made of her hair.

"You should worry about learning to tie this properly before negotiating with Valerius."

Her eyes narrowed. "That wasn’t my fault."

"Of course not."

"It wasn’t."

Cassian gave her hair one final ruffle before stepping around her toward the side table. "Do you remember what I told you?"

The change in subject worked immediately.

Sylvia straightened. "Yes."

"Tell me."

She sighed as though he had asked something terribly inconvenient, although the speed with which she answered suggested she had been waiting for him to ask.

"I find Mister Renwick when the letter is ready."

Cassian glanced at her. "The butler."

"I know he’s the butler."

"Then call him that."

"You call him Mister Renwick."

Cassian considered the argument and decided against it.

Sylvia smiled faintly before continuing. "I give him the sealed letter, and he sends it exactly where you wrote. I don’t give it to anyone else, I don’t open it, and if somebody asks what it is, I tell them it’s yours."

"Good."

"And if they still ask?"

"You find Mister Renwick."

"I tell them to mind their business."

"No."

"But—"

"Sylvia."

She sighed again. "I find Mister Renwick."

"Good."

The letter itself sat sealed inside a narrow black case near the edge of the table.

Preparing it had taken considerably less time than the Dreamwalker research.

Finding everything behind it had not.

Cassian’s gaze settled on the case.

Vale had been more careful than most anonymous authors had any right to be. That had helped protect Raven’s identity, but it had also made what happened considerably easier for the people taking advantage of her.

Once Cassian knew where to look, the publishing records surrounding Beyond the Chains had been surprisingly easy to trace. Sales reports existed, along with distribution figures, reprint orders and records of the payments that should have followed them.

Cassian had placed those figures beside the amounts Raven had actually received.

Then checked them again.

The numbers did not match.

Not even close.