Page 70 of Spirit Storm

I finish typing and sit back. "Better?"

Wylder reads it over my shoulder. "Yeah, it’s almost there. Add something about discretion. Let them know you're not broadcasting this to the whole Order."

"Right." I scroll down and add another line. Any information you share will be kept between us and the small team working on this directly.

"And give them an easy out," Wylder adds. "So, they don't feel cornered."

I type, If you'd prefer not to be contacted again, I'll respect that completely.

We both stare at the screen for a long moment. “Okay, I’m sending it through the secure server of the Order of the Arcane, and I’ve tried to lay it out as directly as possible. If this doesn't work, I'm out of ideas."

"It'll work."

"You don't know that."

"But I know you." He closes his hand over mine on the mouse. “People get behind you, Poppy. You have a knack for rallying people into action.”

I don’t know how true that is, but I appreciate the thought. Next, I pull up the email addresses Freya sent me and paste them into the BCC recipient field.

Thank the Goddess she’s obsessed with The Nine and their descendants. If the answer to how to repair the lockstones exists, these people are our best chance at finding it.

My finger hovers over the trackpad.

"You're stalling, Hallowind."

I draw a deep breath. "I'm preparing."

"You're catastrophizing."

"Same thing."

Wylder squeezes my hand gently. "Send it."

I click.

The whoosh sound as the email leaves feels louder than it should. Please work. Please find someone with the answers we need.

I lean back and let my hands fall into my lap. “All right, well, that’s done."

We sit there in the quiet, the morning light shifting fractionally across the polished wood of the dining room table that has been in my family for who knows how many generations.

I turn in my chair and reach for another cookie. “Now, while we wait on Mica and responses from descendants, tell me how I can help you.”

He flexes his shoulders slightly and swallows. “I honestly don’t know. Physically, I think I’m almost back to normal. The healers have taken care of the repair, and the pain is gone.”

"But?"

His jaw tightens, and he lifts a hand to his chest. "There's this… emptiness inside me. It’s like something important got burned out by the lash and didn't grow back when the healers worked on me."

My chest constricts. "Wylder."

"It's not horrible or anything. It’s not debilitating. Just strange. I'm aware something is missing that I didn't even know was there before."

I stand and flick my hand to get him to push his chair out a bit. When he does, I straddle his lap and settle my knees on either side of his hips.

His hands come up to rest on my hips, and he grins. "If this is my TLC reward for being a good patient, should we go upstairs?"

“In a bit.” I place both hands flat against his chest, palms over his heart. "The lash was targeted against spirit energy, likely Tharuzel’s doing to stop spirit witches from meddling with his evil plan. It damaged your spirit, not just your body. The healers repaired your body. Maybe I can help with your spirit.”