cried. After a beat, he lifted his gaze from her head to the rest of us. “May I please take her back to her chambers?” he asked gently. “I promise to stay with her and ensure she rests, if it’s permitted.”
Groffet was the one that answered. “I think that’s a sane idea,” he said with a huff. “Take the girl back and watch over her, Ash.” The male nodded and hurried from the room, bowing slightly to the rest of us as he passed by. “Now then.” Groffet lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the three of us. “Come, let us propose a strategy to retrieve the Changeling.”
The three of us—Sorrell, Roan, and I—followed him as we moved towards the library’s main open area. Roan immediately plopped down next to the fire. Sorrell wandered over to the open window, and I took my place in one of the three nook seats set within the walls surrounding the space. With the wall at my back and the open space in front of me, I felt marginally enclosed, as if I were sitting within the wall, itself, watching the scene before me even as I channeled my inner thoughts to calm and focus.
“The Changeling was taken,” Groffet said the words, but they were not a question.
Regardless, Roan answered. “Yes.”
Groffet nodded and hobbled over to a table stacked high with tomes and volumes. He grunted and muttered beneath his breath as he searched, pulling book after book and checking their contents. If he found one satisfying, he set it on the ground and if it wasn’t, he tossed it.
“Let’s see,” he began. “You could try and track her? Scry for her?"
"Already tried that." Sorrell's tone was biting as though he was insulted that Groffet would suggest something so simple.
"And what about the Midnight Heir?” Groffet asked, one bushy brow rising as he glared back at the Prince of Frost. “Did you attempt to track him?” Silence. Groffet huffed out a breath before selecting a particularly hefty looking volume and moving over to the three of us. “If he's the one that took her maybe tracking him will lead you to her?"
"Tyr has protections around him at all times to prevent that from happening,” I said. “It always drove our mother insane…” That is, before she actually had gone insane.
Groffet harrumphed at that statement, slamming the book he carried on the ground in the center of the space and flipping it open. He paged through the contents. More muttering emanated from the small, old man, but none of it was sensical. Finally, he grunted and stopped flipping the pages. His head turned from side to side and after a moment, he lifted it.
"What about a dream spell?” I didn’t have to look at the others to know that they had perked up some. Groffet noticed our captured attentions and nodded. “Yes, I think that might be good.”
Sorrell took a step into the center, his arms falling away from his chest. “Someone cast one on me while we were at the Court of Frost,” he announced.
Roan growled. “Why didn’t you say something?” he demanded.
Sorrell didn’t look at him as he replied. “I assumed it was my mother. She used to do things like that when I was a child,” he explained. “It was her way of … teaching me a lesson. To say she was unhappy about Cress’s presence in our Court would be an understatement. Though she didn’t show her irritation as well as the Crimson Queen, my mother is not our ally.”
“Do you think she could’ve helped Tyr?” I asked, curious. I doubted it, but I wanted to hear his response.
Sorrell’s eyes found mine and he shook his head. “No. She doesn’t approve of Cressida, but she has never once trusted a member of the Midnight Court. She wouldn’t be working with Tyr. I suspect he’s working on his own.”
I nodded.
“Regardless,” Roan said, bringing us back to the main point, “what would a dream spell do? We can get into contact with her, but what if she doesn’t understand what’s happening? Dream spells aren’t always easy to perform.”
“It still has potential,” Groffet replied. “And whoever goes will need to be very careful with her. She is still unused to Fae magic. Treat her as though her magic is still in its infantile stage.”
The only issue that remained was that none of us were particularly skilled with dream magic. Dream magic wasn’t forbidden, but it also wasn’t encouraged, for a reason. It