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Tavlor answered from where he sat beside me. “There are a lot of people that don’t like the way the Council rules the realms. They are very much a dictatorship, as you have experienced, and have no problem squashing anyone that gets in their way.”

I sighed. “Like me.”

I picked at the croissant, flakes decorating my jeans.

“Yes.” He nodded once. “Like you.”

After I finished my croissant, I reached for the fruit. I had my dessert, now I needed to stock up on something healthy. I bit into a piece of fruit, the tangy orange flavor exploding on my tongue.

Meanwhile, my head was exploding with all the new information. To be honest, it was difficult for me to keep up. I felt as though there was so much information at my fingers and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to understand what I needed to know before my time was up. Regardless, I still had to try.

“Okay, so my next question is, as High Warlock, how would I be able to change any of that?” This was the million-dollar question. Was it even worth being the High Warlock if I couldn’t actually do anything about the problems in the other realms? “If Dad’s right, the High Warlock is barely a figure head. He has no real power. He’s a puppet.”

My father cleared his throat and leaned forward, setting down a mug of tea carefully. “That’s not entirely true,” he said. “As you have seen with the amount of magic I have, if I choose to use it. The ceremony that converts a normal warlock into the High Warlock, is quite a powerful one, transferring a lot of formidable magical to the barer.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything for the people suffering under the Council’s rule?” I asked him. I didn’t want to put him on the spot, but it was a fair question.

Shame washed over my father’s face, making his eyes shiny with tears and his cheeks red. I had to hand it to him, though, he didn’t look away. He held my gaze regardless of how guilty he felt.

I instantly felt sick to my stomach. How insensitive could I be? “Father, I...”

I dropped my eyes to my fruit.

He interrupted my apology by holding up a hand. “No, you’re right. I have not done enough with my time as High Warlock. But in my defense... no... I will not defend my actions. I will do better with the time I have left. That’s something I can assure you of.”

A strained silence fell over the room as we continued to eat and drink. I didn’t want to push. My questions weren’t supposed to make my father feel uncomfortable. But this was information I needed if I was going to do my job correctly.

When I couldn’t handle the silence anymore, I cleared my throat.

“So,” I said, wincing as my voice cracked, “where to next?”

Tavlor looked towards my father. He had been quiet during the majority of time, but that wasn’t surprising.

“Shifter realm number three, Matlock?” he asked.

My father nodded. “Yes. I think so.”

“What’s special about that one?” I asked, wanting to be prepared a little

better than I had been today. I hoped it wasn’t cold enough where I had to wear the skin of a wolf to ensure I kept warm.

“Nothing special... but Shifter realms fall into certain categories. Some hate witches and warlocks, others hate the fae. The shifters have been persecuted, segregated, and otherwise disregarded by all realms. They are the lowest on the caste system simply because they transform their physical shape rather than possess magic the way you and I or the Fae do. What’s worst is that their battles are with each other as much as the different realms.”

I laughed awkwardly. They sounded like they were back trying to talk me out of being the High Warlock.

“Sounds terrible,” I said before finishing the last bite of my fruit. “Then why are we going there?”

“Because you want information about the people you can help, the realms you will be in charge of, if you become the high Warlock,” my father said. “We can’t forget a realm because it isn’t the easiest to manage. And, out of the shifter realms, realm three is by far the lease violent.”

They were right. Information was exactly what I’d been after, though initially I’d expected more of a theory lesson, than a practical one.

Baptism by fire, as my mother would say.

I touched my throat, missing my necklace. I had to put it back on.

I nodded, my stomach tightening into knots. “Sounds great.”

Tavlor stood up, having finished his food. “Ava, I must go,” he said abruptly. “I will organize our visit to the Shifter realm tomorrow, and I need to see my aunt today. Will you be all right here, by yourself?”


Tags: Amelia Shaw Daughters of the Warlock Paranormal