Page 70 of When Day Breaks

There's no denying it. That's Renard; our father.

I hold the faded, tattered polaroid. An image of a somewhat younger looking Renard standing next to a scrawny looking teen boy who isn't me nor Travois. I can make out through the spottiness of the quality and the fogginess from natural weathering, that whoever this is looks nearly identical to my father at this age.

"Where the fuck did you find this?" I hold up the decolorized photo, twisting it around so that the image faces Troian as if I'm showing it to her for the first time.

Travois snatches it from my hands and I let it slip away, feeling awry having just held it.

"Lucynda and I found ourselves in some kind of secret library. Then we found another secret room from there," Troy starts to explain. "The space didn't look big enough to fit the both of us so I went up and she stayed."

"I get it," I try to cut her off politely using a dismissive hand gesture and watch as she clenches her jaw and tightens her upper lip. "The short version," I deadpan as I watch my brother flip over the photo to see if there is any legibility to the old writing that used to be there, but like me, he's seeing that it's far too faded.

"Right," Troy snaps. "Well, there wasn't much up there but a few old dusty boxes." She starts to pace and my patience can't hold much longer. "It reminded me of something like an attic used for storage. I decided to go through some of the boxes. A lot of them were death certificates of previous Royals of Valor. Most of it wasn't legible. But then, I came across a box of photos, some too faded to see, and others were of people that held no significance to me."

"Troian," I warn her as she rambles off her findings, my patience getting dangerously too thin for my liking.

She sighs in annoyance before continuing, "I almost just called it quits, but then I saw that." She points to the photo that Trav has since placed on top of the desk in my office, having found ourselves here so that Troy can show us her discovery in private.

"What would a tattered, old photo of our father be doing up in some covert attic of the Valor Cove castle?" Trav's question stumps all of us, not ever having heard of him spending any time over at Valor or really even commingling with anyone other than the war he started to get back his wife.

And to my understanding, transferring Societies is as achingly gruesome as trying to become human again. Something that supposedly Ameliana had gone through to escape my father. So there’s no way he was a Valor Nocturne first.

"Rivian…" Troy turns behind her and reaches into a bag I hadn't even noticed her carrying. "There's something else." She pulls out a manilla folder and tosses it on the desk atop thephoto. A few papers seem to slide out of it but Travois and I just stare at her, waiting.

"Well…" she nods down to the papers and neither one of us knows what to expect.

I reach for the folder, keeping it flat on the desk as I flip the top flap open. I can't immediately make out what the papers are of, so when I pick up the first one, it's as if someone shoves their fist into my chest and squeezes the air from my lungs.

"What the…" I murmur the words under my breath as Troian sighs and takes a seat, steadying herself.

Travois leans over to look at what I'm holding.

"A death certificate," he breathes.

Ameliana Eloxi.

"Isn't that Viktrum's last name?" Trav points out, noting the name change.

"The rest of the file contains the date of her full blood transfer, a marriage certificate and the death certificate of . . . you guessed it," Troy stands and shoves her hands in her pocket before finishing. "Dominek Eloxi."

"What the fuck is going on?" I look over the paper in my hand, trying to convince myself that this isn't the same Ameliana. Because if this is all true, and she really has been dead for—I look at the date of death box and see that it would have been a year after she ran from this kingdom the second time—nearly ten years which can only mean one thing…

"You lied," I whisper to Travois, feeling the heat of the glare radiating from Troian, who I know is thinking the same thing.

"You lied?" I accuse a little more vociferously, an uncompromising tone gripping the words as I feel my brother back away from me.

"Brother, there are few things I do in my life that may be morally questionable but what reason would I have for lying about something like this?" he asks, but even he sounds unsureof his own defense. "I saw her. She gave me her access and…" His words disappear as his breathing starts to pick up, harsh and quick.

Troy huffs in disbelief, leaning onto the desk and throwing her head back with her eyes closed, letting her hands hold her upright.

I think back to the night I had Amy chained up in my dungeon. Her voice. Her face. The way her heart begged for life as it fluttered against my palm. She was real. But this file…

"I will not defend myself again,” Travois speaks to his twin who is now shooting proverbial daggers at him with her glistening blue eyes. "I know you both find me the lessdelightfully splendidof us siblings, but I do not have time for artifice. I would not trick anyone by conjuring up some fake image to deceive you with. I-"

"Was compelled," I note. "You had to have been." There's no other way to explain this. Unless something far greater is at play.

But I’m listening to Trav try to defend his case. A case that obviously seems to have no basis given the paper trail of facts we now have in our hands. But he’s not lying, I can tell. He has no reason to. Travois might do a lot of seedy things but he’s always been proud to exist in the promise of his word. He might hold things from us for far longer than necessary if only to ensue maniacal reactions from us all, but he’s not bluffing.

"Could someone really have the strength to compel a Royal to see a whole ass person for years?" Troy questions and she's right. I've never heard of something so farcical but given the unusual circumstances, we are very much in the realm of eternal possibilities.

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