When they arrested him for violating Uncanny Laws, as well as fraud and I think tax evasion, he’d had something like one hundred and fifty people living on his compound out in the middle of nowhere, Alaska. He’d made himself alpha over all of them, something that just didn’t happen.

Despite my mom’s best efforts, I’d seen some news stories, and kids talked. I remember the pictures—rooms full of bunk beds, wild-looking kids in threadbare clothing, freaked out by the cameras. Adults fighting or cowering in fear at the outsiders they were convinced wanted to do them harm. Shifters in wolf form for so long, they’d almost forgotten they were human.

Declan had to have been a little boy. I couldn’t even wrap my head around what he’d been through.

And he was comforting me.

I straightened up, using my palms to brush my face clear. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile was brittle. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Declan—”

I don’t know what he heard in my voice, but his eyes were suddenly fierce. “Don’t do that. Don’t pity me.”

I took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze. “Okay.” What else could I say? I didn’t really pity him. I wanted to hug the little boy that had survived Campbell. That wasn’t pity, but it didn’t matter. What he wanted right now was support, so that’s what he would get. I could sort out my own feelings later.

The Tribunal managed to calm everyone down. Prisha and Patrice looked at Declan with a mix of fear, horror, and pity. The pity I got, though I hated it because I could feel how much Declan hated it. I didn’t get the fear. The horror was pretty self-explanatory. Elliot Woodbridge was staring at Declan with interest, as if he’d suddenly done a trick Elliot liked. I wanted to bundle Declan up and sweep him out of that room.

“You know I studied your case.” Elliot said it like he thought Declan would be pleased. “So fascinating, your father. I even went and interviewed him in prison.” His eyes lit up at the memory.

I’d never liked Vanessa’s dad. I even hated him at times. This was one of those times. He was the kind of villain you shook your fist at and only referred to by their last name. I narrowed my eyes. Woodbridge.

“So much charisma,” Woodbridge continued. “Truly fascinating man.”

Declan tensed next to me but didn’t say anything. Prisha gawked at Woodbridge like he’d sprouted another head.

“It’s the joy of being an arcanist,” Woodbridge mused. “Gathering knowledge. Studying the very patterns and paths magic takes and learning to bend it all to the mage’s will. What your father managed, yes, yes, was terrible, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t also extraordinary.”

I was certain that my definition of “terrible” was different from Woodbridge’s based solely on that statement alone. How dare he act like Declan should be proud. This was why I disliked so many arcanists. They got so involved in the study of magic that they forgot the creatures attached to and affected by it.