Chapter 34
Gregory
Evan hadn’t stirred since collapsing in the flower field, so I left him in Genevieve’s care.
Knowing he was safe under her watch, surrounded by the scent of her shop, was the only reason I could tear myself away.
My duty was not finished, and I had to report to Adam what we’d learned from the binder.
I’d expected to find him at the forge, but as I cut through the village square, Lyra spotted me. “Gregory! You’re back!” she called out, running over, her smile bright with excitement. She checked behind me, her joy falling. “Where’s Evan?”
“He’s resting at Genevieve’s. I’m here for Adam.”
“Oh. Father is with Uncle William,” she said, her posture slumping and her nose crinkling in distaste.
Finn, who had been trailing her, darted behind her skirts, clutching the fabric as he peeked out. He wasn’t cowering, though. His small face was set in a fierce challenge.
A smirk touched my lips, and I crouched, ruffling Finn’s messy hair. “You’ll make a good alpha one day, little one. Keep that fire.”
Finn’s glare didn’t waver, but his eyes widened just a fraction, as if surprised by the praise. His lips curved before he ducked back behind Lyra’s skirts.
I rose and faced her again. “I’ll get going, then.”
William’s manor rose from the hillside like a declaration of power, all stone and black timber imported from the western territories at ridiculous expense.
The main house was three stories of mullioned windows and carved balconies, surrounded by manicured gardens that existed solely to prove that William could afford to waste good farmland on ornamental hedges.
Two guards stood at the iron gate, both wearing the silver and blue of House Blanke. They recognized me immediately and stepped aside without a word.
I stalked through the grand, cold hallways alone.
William trusted no one, least of all his staff.
An omega servant had once used black magic to alter her scent in an attempt to trick him into believing they were a true pair.
She’d nearly lured him into a trap using his own instincts against him, and he wouldn’t risk letting anyone close enough to try it again.
Blue tapestries absorbed the clatter of my boots on the polished stone. Silver leaf adorned the arched doorways, a gaudy display of wealth that made my simple cabin feel a thousand miles away.
I reached the study doors and knocked once, a hard rap against the two massive slabs of dark carved wood that reverberated in the hush.
Without waiting for a response, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The walls were draped in charcoal silk, and a large desk of polished ebony dominated the space, its surface glistening under the glow of a dozen candles held in ornate silver candelabras.
William stood behind it, that familiar, wide grin spreading across his face.
“My pet dragon is here!” he boomed, throwing his arms wide as if expecting an embrace.
I ignored the pompous bastard. My eyes went to the room’s other occupant. Adam sat in a chair near the hearth on the far side of the room, surrounded by open boxes spilling crystals of every color onto the floor. He was hunched over, carefully threading a small crystal onto a thin cord.
As I approached, he set it down on the low table in front of him, removed his spectacles, and placed them beside it. Relief softened his features as he rose, carving deeper lines around them. He crossed the room and clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
The familiar weight of his grip eased something in my chest. “Son. We were worried. That tempest was brutal. I feared it had caught you on the road.”
“The journey was extended,” I said, then faced William again, who had moved from behind his desk to claim his throne-like seat near the window. “But the return was fast. Evan jumped us back.”
Adam tightened his grip on my shoulder, his brow furrowing. “Jumped?”
I cleared my throat. “He got his memories back. Or rather, he accessed the memories of the other Evan from the crystal.” I met Adam’s stare, then William’s, letting the weight of the revelation take hold. “Conduits are far more powerful and dangerous than the Empire ever let on.”
Adam’s composure hardened, the lines around his mouth deepening. “I need to hear it all. What did the binder tell you?”
William leaned forward in his chair and gestured toward the seats near Adam’s workspace with a fluid motion. “Sit. Both of you. This sounds like the kind of story that requires wine.”
I moved to one of the high-backed chairs by the window, the leather creaking under my weight. Adam returned to his spot, lowering himself back down among the scattered crystals, his fingers lacing in his lap, his stillness absolute.
I told them everything about the jester’s wild power and how his library existed in a surreal space.
I described the Conduits’ history as one of allies before the Empire transformed their abilities into tools of conquest. I narrated the change from fear to conspiracy and recounted the old Emperor’s death through the Conduits’ magic—drawing a soul from another world to control the imperial body like a puppet on strings.
I confirmed that Starlirium was real, and the anchor crystal that dragged Evan’s soul across worlds was carved from it.
I shared the dark suspicion that this substance was the only thing powerful enough to kill a dragon.
It had to be what they used to drug me and murder the Saintess.
It was undoubtedly the weapon that took my father’s life.
That was what the wolf alpha had been hunting when he came to our village; he was tracking the scent of the stars.
I revealed that Emperor Cassian, who is magicless, watched his father’s murder and made a vow that would reshape the world, not out of madness, but terror.
And finally, I told them the truth about Evan’s memories—how he traded his soul for his twin stranger, desperate to save his mother and escape a fate worse than death.
When I finished, the room was silent except for the soft sputter of candle wax. Adam and William exchanged a silent, grim glare. William drummed his fingers once against the arm of his chair before going still.
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, and when he finally spoke, his words carried a rare weariness.
“That comes as a surprise to me,” he said solemnly.
“The death of the old Emperor… We were told it was an illness from the contagion, and that not even the healers could save him. A fever that took him in the night, turning his flesh to rot before the sun even rose. After that day, the imperial castle closed its gates. Locked itself away like a tomb. Even as Knight-Commander, I never had direct contact with Emperor Cassian. None of us did. We never knew he was void of power.”
His hands clenched in his lap. “We received our orders through intermediaries—sealed letters. And we followed them.” His words turned bitter.
“We carried out massacres in the name of the goddess. Purged villages, burned families alive, all because we were told they were heretics, traitors to the divine will.” He raised his chin. “I lost my son to a soulless war.”
William, a ghostly reflection in the window, lifted a silver goblet from the sill.
He drained the wine in one swallow, his throat working.
Setting the cup down with a decisive click, he spoke darkly.
“They used you. Used all of you. The holy orders, the knights, the Church itself—all of it was theater. Justification for genocide.”
“And we believed it,” Adam said, the words heavy with shame. “Every word. Every lie.”
The silence stretched with the weight of old sins and buried truths. I stirred in my chair. There was more that needed to be said, questions that had been gnawing at me since we left and encountered Nicolai.
“The traitor,” I said, cutting through the heavy air. “The one who destroyed the eastern wards. Did you find him?”
Adam’s jaw tightened, his eyes dropping to his folded fist. “We did.” He paused, and something dark crossed his face.
“The traitor was found dead shortly after you departed for Oakgon. He was a merchant from Riverbend, not one of our own. A stranger selling secrets for coin.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“Someone settled the debt before we could question him properly.”
“And the scouts? Any sign of the Empire? Mordaine?”
Adam shook his head slowly. “Nothing. The patrols have swept the borders twice over. No Imperial banners, no war mages, no shadow magic.” He spread his hands. “Nothing. Like she vanished completely.”
Heat pricked beneath my skin, and I forced it down. “She could be hiding inside the village,” I said. “But if Mordaine cloaked herself using the moon itself… I cannot sense her. Sending out sparks of my fire to search every shadow would risk burning the village to ash.”
Adam stroked his beard, a slow, pensive gesture. “If Mordaine were here, inside our walls, she would have done something by now. That woman doesn’t strike me as the patient type.”
“Unless she’s waiting for Evan to be alone,” William interjected.
Fire ignited in my blood, hot and immediate.
“I need to go back to him.” I clenched the arms of the chair hard enough to make the leather groan.
The thought of Evan alone and vulnerable sent a jolt through my system.
My instincts roared to protect, defend, and keep him safe.
I was on my feet before I’d consciously decided to move, the chair scraping against the floor.
Adam raised a hand in a calming gesture. “If he’s not here, it’s because you left him somewhere safe, isn’t it?”
“Evan’s at Genevieve’s,” I answered.
A faint smile touched Adam’s lips, the tension easing from his frame.
“Then he’s fine. That beta lady is as strong as iron, even at her age.
Mordaine would be a fool to test her wards.
Besides, I want to show you something before you go rushing off like a man possessed.
” He paused as if struck by a thought. “Harren?”
I shook my head. “He decided not to do the jump with us. Wanted to stop in Crowedge,” I said, my expression carefully blank. “Things with the Vramikar are not looking well.”
A soft rumble formed in his throat. “Ah.”
I didn’t elaborate. Didn’t tell him that Harren was likely hunting for more of that dark potion or whatever else the omega thought he needed to keep denying what he was.
Adam had enough weight on his shoulders without adding guilt over Harren’s choices.
The old knight would blame himself, would think he’d failed somehow.
And I wouldn’t be the one to put that burden on him.
Adam moved back to the low table where the crystals lay scattered and picked up one of the cords he’d been working on. The small, clear stone caught the candle-glow, throwing tiny rainbows across his weathered knuckles. I stepped closer, drawn by it despite my urgency to return to Evan.
“I’ve been working on these,” he said, threading another crystal onto the cord with surprising delicacy for hands so scarred by battle. “For Evan. After everything he told me about his world, it fascinated me. The idea of light that doesn’t burn, controlled only with a simple touch.”
I stood beside the table, watching his practiced movements. “What’s the occasion?” I asked.
“A housewarming gift.” He worked with practiced precision, adding another crystal to the growing strand. “Something to help him feel at home. To show him that even in this world, we can create wonders.”
Adam looked up, and a spark ignited in his silver eyes—one I hadn’t seen in far too long—as he said, “Celeste’s Blessing. It’ll be held in three days.”