Lucian was nervous. Beyond nervous.

  He’d managed to win Lydia over to his side fairly strongly, and he expected that the glue would hold. Metterand was quite wealthy, and Cate was owed much that she’d thus far been denied. He was hoping that it was a bribe sufficient to get Lydia to talk about the Heavenly Body she’d mentioned. Upon asking her in passing, she stuck with her story—that it was Cyril, not her. Lucian didn’t want to press the issue in case she stopped cooperating, but there would be plenty of time to get the information once the trial was over.

  His biggest concern had been the idea that Cyril returned to his former territory instead of Verne immediately, and made some efforts cover up what had been going on there. To that end, he requested that Denzel ensure that the transfer of power was immediate and irrevocable. Even if Denzel had, Cyril would have undoubtedly had considerable sway within the territory. Obfuscation of his crimes was a genuine possibility.

  Instead, Cyril returned to Verne only a day later than Lucian did. That certainly wasn’t enough time to conceal everything.

  Upon his return, the trial resumed. Cyril’s flesh was tested to confirm that the disease that he had was in fact the Black Bloom. That alone was a tremendous shock to the public and one of the biggest chinks in Cyril’s armor. News of the results of the mediation reached Verne not long after Cyril did. Everything ended without issue, and without alteration to the deal after Lucian’s departure. That said, Denzel and Algard both were staying within the empire to address the power vacuum caused by the deaths of many nobles.

  Now, the final stretch of the trial remained. And currently…

  “Metterand was cruel,” Lydia said, standing behind the witness’ podium. “Beyond cruel. He preferred the drag Cate by her hair, rather than picking her up or leading her by her arm, gently.”

  “And Cyril was aware of these facts?” Theobald pressed.

  Right now, Lydia was continuing her testimony against Cyril. Thus far, her performance had much the same impact as it had the first day that she appeared on the stand. She gave a detailed accounting of the many things that went on at the Villamar household. Much of it was detail that Lucian was learning for the first time.

  Even if it was 80% lies… Lucian came to the conclusion that he didn’t hate the Villamars enough.

  Lydia’s testimony of the abuses in the Villamar household were very thorough and convincing. This wasn’t a family that knew how to foster a sense of harmony and ask politely. This was a family that used coercion, pressure, and blackmail simply because they knew no other alternative. Lydia painted herself as an innocent victim suffering under the same monster, but Lucian was skeptical.

  The major difference was that Cyril kept his cool. He didn’t react to anything that she said at all. That unflappable man of steel returned even in the face of the most egregious slander. He simply sat in the gallery, watching with a cool head and calm eyes. That was the source of much of Lucian’s anxiety. Had he developed a new strategy?

  “Ladies and gentlemen… as a father, what I’ve heard here today… I’m meant to be detached, but this was hard to listen to,” Theobald said. “I want you to ask yourself if you could resist your parents if they had done this to you. If they had made you powerless physically, mentally, and magically, and then wore you down to a knub day after day… could you resist? Could you fight for yourself?” He gave a glance at the jury. “I have nothing further.”

  Lucian shifted in his chair and leaned in, worried. Cross-examination time. If they turned this down, they’d be crazy.

  “Would the prosecution like to cross-examine this witness?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, we would,” a lawyer said, standing up. It was a woman, dressed rather formally and with an austere but not strict appearance. Certainly not a bad pick. She grabbed a large stack of papers off the table, and then moved to question Lydia. “And after, we’d like to bring a witness that counters what Lydia proposes.”

  “Very well, Trudy,” the judge said. “Approach the witness.”

  The woman named Trudy read a paper as she came near. “’Future Duchess Lydia Villamar seen vomiting into the canals of Verne.’” She set a paper before Lydia. On cue, assistants emerged and began handing copies to the jury—to the gallery, even. “’Lydia Villamar arrested attempting to break into a store of medicaments.’ ‘Lydia Villamar accused of stealing supplies from the alchemical class in the Collegium.’”

  Lucian received a paper and read it over. It was numerous snippets of news articles, each of them rather damning and dated accounts of Lydia’s activities over the years. They were what one might expect of an addict, mostly revolving around incidents of public embarrassment or attempted thefts. The lawyer continued reading their headlines.

  “These articles are only a small sample of your many mentions in public newspaper,” the lawyer continued. “Newspapers we reached out to have provided affidavits verifying that they ran these stories. During your time as Student Ambassador, you were detained by the city guard thirty-two times. Is that right?”

  “It’s more than that,” Lydia said evenly. “Some weren’t recorded.”

  Trudy looked caught off-guard by the honesty, but continued without losing a beat. “By contrast, the man that you’re accusing… has he ever been detained once? Does he have any criminal record? No,” Trudy declared. “We have the word of a habitual criminal and an inebriate that lost herself to drink, that habitually abuses laudanum, and employs all manner of alterants that poison the mind. Do you think Cyril features in even one of these stories, ladies and gentlemen?”

  Lydia looked at the paper, then said too quickly to be interrupted, “If you’ll notice, none of these are frontpage stories. Cyril suppressed—”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “The answer is no,” Trudy interrupted loudly. “Lydia Villamar is a notorious debaucher. We have receipts of purchases for countless extreme draughts in large quantities, most prominently laudanum, dating back for the past twenty-five years. All were purchased by Lydia herself or servants known to be in her employ. Among them are countless substances illegal for purchase by common means. Lydia obtained these illegal goods via the use of her alchemical license.”

  Trudy turned back. “You accused Cyril of meddling with the Black Bloom, yet records for the Collegium show that never once did he register for a single alchemy class. He has no such license. You, by contrast, remained enrolled during your stay in the Collegium, despite repeated thefts of class supply. You received your license from the Collegium. Is that right?”

  “Yes, but he had private tutors in—”

  “Yes, you said. Cyril never participated in alchemy classes. You, however, managed to reach gold-level instruction in alchemy,” the lawyer continued. “You even had a thriving business here in Verne, wherein you sold the fruits of your alchemy. It was shut down when there was a fatality attributed to your brews. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Lydia lowered her head, as if knowing she would be interrupted if she said more. Tears began to fall.

  “You have a history of poisoning people, then.”

  Lydia lifted her head up, with a tear-stained and desperate face. “It was recreational, and the person used more than I—“

  “Last time you were on the stand, you claimed to have afflicted Cyril with the Black Bloom. What’s more likely—that you, a serial criminal, used the Black Bloom to cause your husband a painful death after he restricted you, or the ridiculous idea that you nobly sabotaged his plans?”

  Lydia kept her head lowered. Lucian felt this was going poorly.

  “What’s more likely—that a man who recently lost a limb fighting Belcourt struck a deal with him, or that you’re muddying the waters by bringing up unverifiable information?” Trudy demanded calmly. “Would you, good people, sooner believe that a man in alliance with Heavenwatch Monastery has—”

  “Cyril has no alliance with Heavenwatch Monastery,” Theobald interrupted, rising. “This has never been announced by either side. I’d like to request verification by asking Heavenwatch to provide official statement unless Miss Trudy retracts her words.”

  Trudy glanced at Cyril, and Lucian saw him shake his head faintly.

  “…I withdraw my words about the alliance with Heavenwatch,” Trudy said bitterly. “Regardless, just two days ago Cyril fought at their side to repel the attack on their monastery, and has collaborated with them in depth to fight against demons here in Verne. Are these the actions of a man on the side of evil? Heavens, no.

  “This woman…” Trudy pointed. “Lydia Villamar stood by Duke Cyril for every single moment of what he did. She was mother to Lucian and Cate. As a mother myself, if these things were happening, I would stop at nothing to prevent them. All of what she’s claimed are little more than malicious lies and half-truths woven to hide her guilt.”

  Trudy let the silence hang. Lydia sniffed in that silence, then wiped away some tears.

  Lydia lifted her head. “I have something to say, and—”

  “There is another side to this story,” Trudy interrupted, for perhaps the final time. “A side that can illuminate this lightshow that Lydia has created, of secrets half-revealed, of demons woven out of figures in the shadows. Cyril is a hero—a true hero, who not days ago abdicated his title of duke to help mediate between the two princes of Riverra.” She gestured toward the gallery. “And thus, I’d like to call Cyril to the witness stand to oppose the defense’s supposed evidence. He will counter all of what you’ve said.”

  “I assent, but I suspect this testimony will be lengthy,” the judge said. “Is there anything else for Lydia?”

  Lydia nodded. “Ye—”

  “No,” Trudy said decisively. “That’s all.”

  “We’re ten minutes early, but let’s call lunch. Reconvene in forty minutes.” The judge slammed the gavel.

  ***

  “Cyril looks composed,” Lucian said worriedly. “And that looked really bad for Lydia.”

  Lucian had joined Theobald and Helen for lunch in the garden. He was keeping an eye on Lydia, who was sitting alone.

  Theobald ate his sandwich quietly. “It’s over.”

  “What? What the hell?!” Lucian whispered. “What do you mean? What went wrong?”

  “No, in a good way,” Theobald said with a mouth full of food. “It’s over for Cyril. He took the stand. He’s screwed. That was the make-or-break thing. If he didn’t decide to come forth personally, this would have been up in the air. But if he comes…”

  “But even after that entire day, he didn’t break once,” Lucian said. “I was watching him. Couldn’t you have let Lydia get some final words in to dispel the narrative Trudy laid out?”

  “Not the way cross works. Trust me, it’ll be fine,” Theobald said, following it up with some milk.

  “Do you think you could give him more to go on than that?” Helen pressed her dad. “Put yourself in his shoes. I’m sure Lucian is concerned.”

  “His shoes are tiny compared to mine,” Theobald said. “I have ogre feet.” Helen elbowed him, and he winced. “Fine, fine… look.” He faced Lucian, wiping crumbs off his hands. “You asked me if this was about a grudge, right?”

  “Oh, hell…” Lucian cradled his forehead, feeling something bad coming.

  “It is,” Theobald said. “The Inquisition was many things, but it certainly wasn’t rotten to the core. A lot of good people died because of what your father did. I’ve never forgotten that. Some other people haven’t, either.”

  “Meaning…?” Lucian tilted his head.

  “Dinah’s alive,” Theobald said quietly. “She’ll show up at the right time, and your father will break.”

  Lucian blinked. “Who the hell is Dinah?”

  “Former Inquisitor. Sole survivor, excluding Belcourt. Not known to the world… but I think Cyril’s reaction will tell all.” Theobald picked up his milk and swirled it. “For our purposes? She’s final nail in the coffin for your father’s bullshit story about what happened there,” Theobald said with genuine anger. “It’s time the past caught up to him. It’s time my friends be redeemed.”

  ***

  “So, Cyril Villamar…” Trudy asked, standing before Cyril politely. “Shall we review some of the claims that your wife has made?”

  “Yes,” Cyril said calmly. “Let’s.”

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