by Marisa Mills
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve brought someone…unsavory from the Lower Realms to Reverie,” Gregory replied.
“I never lied about what Francisca did or was, and I certainly had enough sense not to try and pass her off as a mage.”
The king’s eyes darted between the two of us, searching for something. He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair.
“Then I’ll add my own allegation,” the king said. “That the girl is talking to demons, and responsible for the recent attacks.”
At this Dorian smiled, and relaxed.
“Come now Gregory,” he said. “She’s either a fraud with no magic, or a mage speaking with demons. I think you’ll agree that she can’t be both at the same time. And the idea that I would be knowingly involved in any of this is laughable. What possible purpose would I have to risk my title on this mad, improbable scheme? If you recall, I defeated the demon at the welcome banquet, after it attacked Alexander. And Wynter has fought several; herself grievously injured each time. Not to mention, nobody can communicate with demons. Even if it weren’t forbidden, it’s a rare gift that takes years of study. And that’s just speaking with them; controlling a freed demon is nearly impossible. Few mages would be able to manage it. Are you seriously suggesting this girl is more powerful than each of us combined, and that she’s somehow outsmarted us both?”
I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. Dorian was distancing himself from me, and acting like a befuddled, arrogant noble. He was a convincing liar. I had no doubt that if I was declared guilty, Dorian wouldn’t lift a finger to help me. I thought about telling King Gregory everything, and trying to blame it all on Dorian, but he was a noble, a mage, and I was neither. The king was more likely to believe Dorian’s innocence than mine.
Perhaps, we can turn this on him, Lucian said.
Maybe. I chewed my lip, trying to decide if I could do that and live with myself. What would the king do to a traitorous nobleman? Deep down, I knew I couldn’t blame everything on Dorian. Going to the palace had been my idea. I still hadn’t told him about the pendant, about the chamber, or even about Lucian. I thought about him waiting at my bedside after the incident at the lake. It didn’t matter if he never cared about me at all, I realized. I’d started to care about him.
“Did you want to add anything?” the king asked. “Deny the charges, or perhaps challenge Dorian’s denial? It would hardly surprise me if you were simply the patsy in a larger conspiracy. Telling the truth now may lead to a reduced sentence. It’ll be your one and only chance to come clean and admit what you’ve done.”
Dorian turned to look at me, something sly and eager in his expression. It was almost as if he expected me to challenge him, almost as if he welcomed it. He’d probably already practiced his rebuttal.
This felt like a trap, but I wasn’t sure how to get out of it. I steeled myself and straightened my shoulders.
“I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” I said.
Dorian’s gaze remained on me.
“So you deny speaking with demons, in this very room, when faced with your king. Keep in mind, lying to the Crown is an act of treason. Punishable by death.”
Don’t tell him anything, Lucian warned.
“I can barely pass the basic classes at the Academy,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Of course I deny it. I’m not guilty of anything, except following Viviane in a crazy scheme to secure the affections of your son. I had no idea what she was planning or how we ended up your quarters. I’m sorry about that of course, but we didn’t take anything—you had us searched, remember?”
I crossed my arms, my chest heaving. I’d spoken too quickly, and my brow tingled with sweat. My parched throat ached, and I reached down for my cup of tea, now cold, and held it to my lips with trembling fingers.
“Why don’t we walk through these allegations?” Dorian asked, after a long pause. “Assuming Wynter has done as these allegations say, it’s no crime, Your Majesty, to lie about your past. There’s not a single man in your court who hasn’t exaggerated about a bit of magic we’ve performed or about the number of women we’ve been with. And although we nobles may like to pretend otherwise, we know that magical ability is less about blood than it is training.”
I frowned. Maybe he was helping. For now, anyway.
“If that were the only problem, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Gregory replied, “but this girl is not only a fraud, she’s a cheat as well. In fact, she doesn’t appear to have any powers at all.”
“No powers?” Dorian asked. “During her exam, she summoned fire. She’s defeated demons. How can she have faked that and carried this deception for so long?”
King Gregory opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a familiar device, the same one I’d used to fake my way into the Academy.
“Following this accusation, I requested that Celeste conduct an investigation into potential academic dishonesty, and Markus Du Lac found this among Wynter’s things. Du Lac has prepared a written statement attesting to Wynter’s poor performance in his class. He also reports having previously found evidence of Wynter practicing dark magic and sneaking around the school grounds. She is, of course, suspended indefinitely from the Academy.”
That bastard, Lucian growled.
But the evidence of dark magic hadn’t been mine. I still didn’t know where those notes had come from. I suspected they were Viviane’s, but I didn’t want her to get into even more trouble than she was already in.
“And Markus didn’t tell me that my charge was using dark magic?” Dorian asked.
“Markus admits it was an error of judgment,” the king said, “but he wanted to give Wynter the benefit of the doubt in that particular case.”
No, Du Lac had wanted to blackmail me into stealing from Dorian. He was probably angry when he found out Amelia’s tiara was worthless. He must have suspected deception.
Dorian took the device from the king’s hand.
“So what does it do?” he asked. “Set things on fire, I assume? I don’t know where Wynter would’ve obtained such a thing. And to claim that I would knowingly bring contraband into Reverie and leave it for an extended amount of time in the hands of an adolescent girl? That’s absurd. It seems, perhaps, that she’s fooled both of us. Though, if this is true, surely it’s a matter for the Council, to be handled privately by the Academy. After all, cheating on an exam is hardly a crime.”
I bit my lip. It seemed like I ought to defend myself, but I didn’t know how. But it couldn’t be hopeless, or Dorian wouldn’t be arguing, would he? Maybe he was just pretending to care, so he could fake ignorance. The king’s eyes narrowed.
“There’s also the matter of her talking to demons,” he said slowly.
That was his accusation; he’d said. If he was being honest, that meant neither Alexander nor Viviane had told him that. But he couldn’t possibly know about Lucian.
“Your Majesty, if Wynter is truly a fraud and incapable of even the smallest magic,” Dorian said, “how could she possibly—”
“These demon attacks began shortly after you brought her into Reverie,” the king said sharply. “I’m not spending my evening arguing this point. I have good evidence that she’s been talking to demons, and I expect you to take my word for that. Since, as you’ve already pointed out, this is a rare skill, and since we know that someone at the Academy, someone close to both Viviane and Alexander, is using dark magic and releasing demons, the girl is the obvious suspect. Unless you have someone else you’d like to implicate?”
Dorian clenched his jaw, all his good humor suddenly gone.
“It seems you’ve already made up your mind about this issue,” he said, slumping back in his chair. The king smiled, looking victorious. He reached behind his desk for a crystal decanter of dark brown liquid, and filled two chalices, before handing one to Dorian.
“I don’t want the Council involved in this,” he s
aid. “If we have them launch an investigation, you and I know they’ll either find nothing or spend years searching. The people of Reverie are already worried enough. Someone must be found guilty, and this matter requires swift action,” Gregory said.
“You need a scapegoat,” Dorian said slowly, with dawning comprehension. “You don’t know who is really behind this, so you’re going to blame it on someone Reverie will easily rally against. An imposter from the Lower Realms.”
There was a gleam in the king’s eyes as Dorian reached for his cup and took a deep sip of the brandy.
It seems like the adults are done talking, Lucian said.
“But I’m not summoning demons!” I exclaimed. “I would never attack my classmates, or even try to hurt them. And I’ve been attacked by demons, too! Why would I summon demons to attack myself?”
“Perhaps, you wished to gain attention to seduce my son,” Gregory replied. “It seems to have very nearly worked. Or perhaps, you wanted to throw off suspicion. There could be any number of reasons.”
“What will you do if exiling Wynter doesn’t stop the demon attacks?” Dorian asked.
“If the demon attacks don’t cease, there is already sufficient evidence to justify her exile from Reverie,” the king said slowly. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe exiling her isn’t enough.”
Dorian’s face paled at the implication.
They were going to kill me.
***
This wasn’t working. I needed a different approach.
Do you know anyone else who can talk to demons? Lucian asked.
No, other than Nick and Gwen.
And look how things turned out for them.
The king blanched, staring at me with shrewd calculation. His fingers drifted towards the golden brooch pinned to his label. The winged lion gripped the blue gemstone possessively. I wondered how he had really gotten it. Did he know about the chamber beneath Reverie? If Oberon was right, the machinery was ancient and without repair, the demons could be escaping on their own. But someone was controlling them on purpose; the same person who’d been controlling Viviane. My mind raced, but I was still no closer to solving the mystery. Should I tell them everything? Would the king allow me to prove my innocence; we could go together right now and unlock the chamber together.
Not without Viviane, Lucian said. Which means, you’d have to tell them about her first.
I bit my lip. Would I betray all my friends, to save myself?
“I may not be a lady from Argent,” I said, gripping the edge of the desk, “but I swear, I’m no threat to the crown. I—I saved Alexander’s life when we were falling from Reverie!”
“So you say,” Gregory replied. “But there would be no reason for you to have this…device if you weren’t using it to cheat. Isn’t your one proficiency in fire? I suspect the sword you picked out at your choosing was more powerful than we expected. It should never have been given to a first-year student.”
But it wasn’t all me, Wynter, Lucian whispered. The lightning, at the lake, you did that.
“As for your fall,” the king continued, “I’ll admit to being surprised. Delighted, of course, that my son Alexander survived. Though it hardly helps your case. If somehow you did save him, and perform a magical feat far beyond your station, then it’s clear you’re more dangerous than we realized. So you see, Wynter, you’re either a clueless cheat, or a dangerously skilled mage. Either way, you’re a liar, and I suspect you know far more than you’re sharing.”
“Why are we even bothering with this if you’ve already determined her fate?” Dorian asked, standing suddenly.
“Because of you,” the king said, leaning back in his chair. He was smiling, and I realized his insults had been intended to rile Dorian up. “I need to know how deep this conspiracy goes, and who else poses a threat to my family’s rule. So I ask again, in no uncertain terms, were you aware of who and what she was when you brought her to Reverie?”
His pretty words hadn’t worked. This would be the moment where he abandoned me.
“I’ve said no already,” Dorian said.
“Would you be willing to swear by it?” the king asked. He was obviously expecting Dorian to refuse, and his eyes widened when Dorian drew a pen from his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. He pressed the tip of his pen against his forearm, drawing a row of tight runes above the silver tattoo on his wrist. I recognized the symbols from class. Dorian was drawing truth sigils. It took all my willpower to keep my jaw from dropping. He was about to reveal us both.
Dorian held up his arm, seemingly for the king’s inspection, and received a satisfied nod. “When I brought Wynter to Reverie,” Dorian said softly, “I genuinely believed that she was a mage. Not only did I believe she was a mage, but I also believed her to be a lady of good breeding with a lineage as lofty as my own. And I don’t think she’s summoning demons.”
I stared at his arm, trying to find a deviation from the sigils I’d seen in my textbook, but there was none. How had Dorian managed to lie so easily? What trick did he know? I waited for King Gregory to say something, to argue that those sigils were drawn improperly, or to point out the impossibility of what he’d seen.
Instead, the king looked mildly disappointed, and confused. But then he sighed and smiled, suddenly amicable. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “With the Council acting as they are, I’d have been very dismayed to see that I couldn’t depend on the nobility’s support. I apologize of course for the necessity.”
Dorian drew a line through his sigils, canceling them out.
“I’m distraught that I’d have given you a reason to doubt my support,” he said. “Save for my mother’s missteps, Rosewood has always stood behind the monarchy. In light of this, I hope you’ll forgive me for my grave misjudgment. I’ll gladly return Wynter where I found her.”
Would I really be getting off so easily?
“There’s no need,” the king said. “I’ll return her there once I’ve passed judgment. We simply can’t let this kind of activity slide. She’ll need to be punished.”
“Of course,” Dorian nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Don’t even trouble yourself with this, Dorian. I’ll take care of everything.”
The king stood, and the men shook hands. Apparently the meeting was over. They were both being so polite about it.
“Is her punishment open to negotiation?” Dorian asked, glancing at me. “After all, I do have—did have—a financial stake in her.”
What a snake! Lucian snarled.
“We’ll make sure you’re properly reimbursed,” the king said. “After all, we wouldn’t want the Rosewood estate to fall on financial difficulty. Not with the stores of magical artifacts protected in your vaults.” He smiled, and the blood drained from Dorian’s face.
Does the king know that Nick and Gwen destroyed some of them? Lucian asked. The king’s eyes snapped towards me in surprise, but I was already too numb to react. I felt like I’d been on an emotional roller coaster, and my stomach twisted painfully. My heart leaped at the idea of returning to the Scraps, but I wondered what condition the king would return me in, and what my uncle would do to me when I got back.
“I would request, perhaps, that the penalty not be too severe,” Dorian said, his eyes lingering on me sadly. “She is just a girl, after all.”
“You’re too forgiving, Dorian,” the king said.
Oh, that’s hilarious!
Gregory waved a hand, as if annoyed.
“I think that’s all we need from Wynter,” he said.
Dorian leaned over in his seat. I glared at him, even as he tilted his head and kissed my temple. “We’ll see each other again,” he murmured, so low I barely heard him.
“Dorian,” Gregory said, his tone warning.
“Good luck, little mage,” he said.
Tell him that the next time you see him, you’re going to put a knife in him, Lucian hissed.
“Remove her at once,” the king said. “Dorian, I’ll see that you and your family have increased security until—”
Without warning, a guard pulled me roughly to my feet.
“—she’s gone from Reverie. For your own protection.”
“Protection?” Dorian asked, his eyes widening. “From her?”
The king’s eyes bore into me as the guard pulled me towards the door.
“I think,” Gregory said, his voice steady, “she’d like to put a knife in you.”
The doors closed behind me with a resounding boom, but not before I caught a final glimpse of the king’s cruel smirk, and the way his fingers wrapped around Gwen’s pendant, which seemed to be pulsing with blue light.
I touched a hand to my temple, which was throbbing painfully, and reeled in confusion as the guards dragged me away.
He—there was no way—
He heard me, Lucian said. Wynter, he heard me!
But how?
That’s how he knew you could speak with demons, Lucian said. You spoke with me in front of him, at the Academy. He knows about me. He’s known all this time.
Guinevere’s charm, I realized. I remembered her crouching in the woods by the lake, interacting with the freed demons. Nicholas must have created it for her so that she could communicate with them. And now the king had it, which meant he could talk to them, too. And now, he knew exactly who I was, and what I’d done.
Twenty-one
JUSTICE IN THE SCRAPS HAD been quick and brutal. If someone stole from you, you cut off a finger. Maybe two. If someone you cared about was killed, you hunted the murderer down and killed them. We had no need of prisons. Not formal ones, anyway. Gabriel had kept a few people chained to a pipe in the back alley a few times, but I tried not to think of what had happened to them.
Mage prisons were probably the only place in Reverie that didn’t look deceptively beautiful. The guards had led me downstairs to a stone hallway underneath the palace with flicking lights and wet walls and shoved me inside a dim room that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. There was a pail for relieving myself and a bucket of water. A pile of fresh straw was piled in a corner. The extreme austerity must have been a shock for mages, an indignity to their pride as well as their comfort, but it actually made me feel at home.
