Page 272 of Volik

The wolves on-screen, and in the castle, go nuts.

And I’m suddenly reminded of getting thrown off balance when Volik appeared at the cliff.

The camera angles spin as their owners fall to the ground.

Some of the phones land angled up, showing shattered windows all across the Palace.

Uncle slowly turns to face Volik. “Good gods, Boy. Was that… Did you…”

Volik shrugs as he pulls me tighter to his side. “I was in a hurry.”

Chapter 126

Volik

“You must understand that this comes as a shock, and that people are reasonably worried.” The reporter keeps his eyes on Henry.

Henry nods. “One of my doctorates is in sociology, so I understand the desire of people to understand the world around them. But there is no reason for anyone to be worried.”

I promised to let Henry and Nix speak for themselves.

But their politeness is grating on my nerves.

First, I had to listen to Nix retell most of the kidnapping.

She insisted, saying it would build sympathy for the cause. And a good distraction from the sudden appearance of her horns.

Unlike with May Branock, we chose to do this interview as a public press conference with a handful of prescreened reporters using one shared camera feed. And the three of us stood together, with me in the middle, on the front steps of the admin building at Stalden University.

Henry refused to go into hiding, saying he would continue his position as dean.

I argued that he would be a target for unhinged civilians.

He argued that Orion was secretly filling the campus with shifters.

I quit arguing.

“Why now?” a woman asks.

“Miss Novak gave you that answer already,” Henry answers. “We would like to live our lives, same as you. We never intended to stay a secret forever, but deciding when…” He shrugs, looking harmless in his sweater vest. “Helping a friend in need seemed like the perfect time.”

“Were you at Versailles?” the same reporter asks.

I cut in. Done with the niceties. “No. It was me at Versailles.”

The reporters shift on their feet, and finally one lifts her hand.

I nod at her.

“Did you create the wormhole?”

I blink. Slowly.

“In some of the videos, the, um, wormhole was captured, outlined in a glowing goldish color. And then in the videos we saw your hand… glow a similar color.” She lets the statement hang.

And the assumption is the perfect way to keep the true answer hidden.

I do not confirm nor deny.