Chapter 15
Jane
“A diviner can see the threads before they happen and long after they happened,” Cerridwen explained. “We can ask Laerune.”
“What if,” Reagan said coolly, his eyes roaming the ceiling as if brewing an idea, “Laerune worked with Jane to do it?”
I stared at him, certain my confusion was written on my face. “Why? She’s the expert.”
“That’s why you should do it together.”
There was always a purpose behind the paths Reagan laid lately, and this one was easy enough to read.
“You want me to use my lessons with Laerune to get the proof that I can wield my power at will,” I guessed.
He tapped his nose twice in confirmation and refilled his glass. I peered down at my arm, at the sentence mark etched there in a pale red line. Perhaps Malory would release me from my sentence with that proof.
I had to try, and with this proof resting on me, I would have to be really focused. I couldn’t spend most of my time by Father’s beside if I wanted to see this through.
Barracus cleared his throat. “That was fine work, Atkus. I’ve decided to skip the next meeting, not to give Varian a chance to question our defences.” He turned to Gwin. “I suggest you stay away as well.”
“You, yes. Her, no,” Reagan replied. “Varian isn’t stupid. If we have nothing to report, he will suspect the meeting serves another purpose. We need to share something harmless.”
Gwinifer rolled her eyes.
“Won’t he suspect your invitation anyway?” I asked. “He knows how much you despise him.”
Reagan said nothing.
Gwin answered instead. “He might think the debt is paid.”
I frowned. He wasn’t imprisoned. “How could it be paid?”
A look passed among the staff, one I could not decipher. Cerridwen’s mouth pressed thin. Whatever it was, she didn’t approve.
Before they could answer, two maids and a manservant entered the room, pushing silver-laden trolleys to gather the used plates.
“Thank you, Rhea,” Reagan said to the maid reaching for his cutlery.
The remnants of dinner were usually summoned away, but sometimes it was done without magic. Soon, the polished table gleamed beneath the chandelier, and Barracus accompanied the maids out of the room.
“I’m going to check on Father,” Joy murmured as she rose.
“Alright. I’ll come there after this,” I told her, catching her faint nod as she made for the door.
Finnegan’s eyes followed her, the way they always did.
When she was gone, I turned to him. “What do you think she’ll do?” My voice came out dry, laced with reproach. “Hurt you if you stop watching her for a moment?”
Finn’s mouth parted, as if he had only just realised I was speaking to him. “No. Jane—”
“You didn’t treat me like this when I came here. She’s different, yes, but that doesn’t make her dangerous. You just don’t understand her fear.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“I don’t think she’s dangerous,” he said, slower now, uncertain. “I just don’t know what to make of her. She only speaks with you. Is she even alright?”
“No,” I answered. “She is not alright. She got pulled out of the life she knows, was told she is something she never heard of, did things that scare her, and has to see her father lying in an infirmary bed. She needs time to process everything, and I would appreciate it if you stopped looking at her like you think she will snap.”
He hesitated, seeming to weigh the frustration I made no effort to hide.
“I was not looking at her in that way,” Finn answered cautiously. “I understand how it feels to be singled out, and not in a good way.”
I sank back into my chair. The caution in his voice told me I might have overreacted.
“Is she speaking with you?” Cerridwen asked me. “It’s important that she has someone to talk to about her situation.”
“Yes, she speaks with me, but I can barely help when I am just as lost.”
“Oh.”
The sound came from the doorway.
We turned toward it. Its owner stood tall, chin lifted, carrying himself with that haughty poise. Varian removed his cloak and handed it to a worker before striding into the room, his black velvet suit settling tidily over his shoulders.
My attention locked on his face. A new scar cut across it, jagged and red, the skin rough along its path from cheek, across the bridge of his nose, to the other side.
“It seems you were not properly announced before walking in,” Reagan said sternly. “Was no one at the entrance?”
Varian circled the table with a breezy pace. “They offered, but I told them not to worry. Family doesn’t need to be announced.”
Instead of taking a seat at the far end, Varian pulled out the one Joy had vacated. Right next to me.
My back stiffened, my heart thudding pathetically fast.
“Here,” Reagan said, motioning to the chair Barracus had left.
Varian paused mid-motion, glancing toward his cousin. “So close to the head,” he said, a trace of reluctance in his tone.
I risked only a side glance, regretting it immediately as I felt his eyes drilling into me.
“We want to start sooner rather than later, Varian,” Reagan said, his tone colder now, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the man.
I lifted my glass, taking a long swallow of water.
“Wine, anyone?” Gwin asked, summoning a bottle and glasses to the table. She poured one for me, giving a look that made me reach for it at once, willing the liquid to calm my racing heartbeat.
“Hand me a glass,” Cerridwen said austerely, extending her hand.
I poured another for myself.
Varian’s face dragged me back to that night. Watching him sit there as if nothing had happened filled my chest with a suffocating rage. I had to fight the urge to rise and leave.
“I realise this is unexpected,” Reagan said, resting his forearms on the table as though none of this bothered him.
“There’s a lot of grudges between us, so consider this a peace offering.
You were excluded from estate matters because we’ve never worked well together.
But the magisters in Ashenagth saw fit to assign your sentence, and it was…
brought to my attention that your insight might serve Mountheim.
” Reagan leaned towards his cousin, the movement slow yet threatening.
“Let me be clear. You are here because I’m willing to try, not because of your past actions.
If you challenge me again, or disrespect anyone in this room, this ends immediately.
Accept these terms, and you may join the staff. I want peace between our families.”
His words sounded genuine, not just to me, but to everyone else in the room, judging by their sceptical looks, which Varian noticed as well.
“Well, that’s surprising,” he said, his mouth curling, the new scar stretching across his face with the motion. “But there is nothing I want more. I’m glad we can move past what happened and build anew. I look forward to helping Mountheim rebuild in any way I can.”
Gwin huffed a laugh, teeth flashing. “Aren’t you an angel?”
Varian regarded her for a long moment, but she only tilted her head, daring him.
The air thickened until Varian turned back to Reagan. “I, Varian Ilya, recognize you, Reagan, as rightful Lord of Mountheim.”
Reagan’s expression stayed unreadable.
Varian’s brow quirked. “Should I bow?”
Reagan exhaled. “Not necessary. I don’t need anyone bowing or on their knees to feel like a lord.”
Gwin and I exchanged a glance. She didn’t bother hiding her amusement.
Cerridwen cleared her throat. “Welcome to the staff, Varian. Mind that what is discussed here is confidential estate business.”
I would have bet she didn’t truly believe he’d keep it to himself. Still, Varian inclined his head in agreement.
“The first matter concerns updates on Finnegan’s findings,” Cerridwen continued. “Anything new on the interference with the curse?”
I felt Varian’s gaze searing the side of my face as Finn began his polished recounting of our so-called theory, explaining that a Scion faction of Mountheim had breached Reagan’s ward by sheer force. We had disproved it weeks ago, but Varian didn’t know that.
He was listening, of course, even if he appeared more interested in staring at me.
I refused to meet his gaze as I reached for my glass and took deliberate swallows of wine.
“Varian,” Reagan drawled, his tone deceptively calm, “we were hoping you might offer insight. You’ve always kept close company with the Order. Why were Scions with you that day?”
Varian turned his attention fully to him, resting his forearms on the table. “I’ve already explained this, but I suppose I should come clean about that night in front of everyone. Otherwise, you’ll never be comfortable with my presence here. And I would prefer transparency.”
Reagan said nothing, only one brow lifted in quiet expectation.
“My actions that evening bring me great shame,” Varian went on solemnly. “The Order’s arguments were persuasive. I wish I had resisted, but they were determined to see you overthrown. I was a pawn who fit their design.”
“Their design?” Reagan repeated.
Varian’s gaze flicked to me, lingering a bit too long. “I’m sure your emissary told you.”
I frowned, spine pressing against the back of my chair.
Reagan leaned forward before I could speak. “Why don’t you tell me yourself?”
Varian’s eyes drifted between us, gauging…something.
“Madden orchestrated the event. My glamouring as you was his idea, though I agreed to it and was found guilty.” He lifted his wrist, showing the faint shimmer of the sentence mark curling around his skin.
“So you don’t think you deserved it?” Finn asked, his tone dry.
“He knows he deserved it,” Gwin cut in, scratching the bridge of her nose. “That and the rest.”
I wondered if she had given him that scar.
Considering all he’d done that night, I found myself wondering what his sentence entailed, and how generous the Ashenagth court had been for him to be here now.
“Be that as it may,” Varian continued, “I was not the mastermind, but they didn’t actually compel me. I was a pawn, not an ally. They convinced me that Mountheim would suffer with your guidance. I was afraid for the estate and quick to agree that I could do better.”
“And Madden convinced you of this?” Reagan asked.
Varian’s gaze flicked toward me again. I frowned, the wine souring my stomach, but still I noticed the pattern. Three glances now, all too deliberate.
“Varian,” Reagan started, sounding as though he were losing his patience, “unless you plan to apologise to her, I suggest—”
“It was him, wasn’t it?” I cut in, the realisation unfurling with certainty in my mind. Varian’s eyes gleamed before the arrogance returned. “That was Giddeon Madden. Both of you stripped Caedmon’s ward from me that night.”
The room went utterly still.
Varian hesitated a beat too long before inclining his head. “Yes. That was Giddeon Madden. My apologies. I thought you knew. He was the one who forced my hand and set the plan in motion.”
“And what about what you told me?” I pressed. “About wanting to save Mountheim from Caedmon’s ruin?”
“I admit that part was my own thinking,” he said carefully. “Madden merely exploited it.”
“His agenda was to make you Lord of Mountheim?” Cerridwen asked, coolly.
“His agenda,” Varian replied, “was to see another ruler who shared the Order’s vision. Someone who could help him shape the country to his liking.”
Reagan’s hand drifted across the table, and a newspaper materialised before me. He pointed to the man in the picture. “Was this the man you saw that night?”
I recognised the long silver hair, the dominant posture, the entitlement radiating from the figure as though he were standing in the room with us. The text in the corner of the image confirmed him as the leader of the Scion Order.
“Yes. This is him,” I answered, noting Reagan’s jaw flex.
I had never known what the man looked like. I should have asked for a picture. It never occurred to me that the most important Scion would be there. Judging by the staff’s expressions, they were also surprised.
It explained Varian’s calculated stare toward me tonight. Perhaps this had been Reagan’s intention in bringing him here. To make Varian believe he was part of the staff and draw information from him. Varian, at least for now, seemed willing to cooperate.
Reagan scratched his chin, his voice tense. “So you’re saying Madden is involved in the schemes against me?”
“He preferred an ally ruling Mountheim, and that is why he approached me. But since that day, we severed contact. Believe it or not, I am not comfortable being manipulated for someone else’s agenda.”
“And now you’re not afraid of Madden’s retaliation for telling us this?” Finn asked. “You’ve just made him a suspect.”
“Like I said, I thought you knew,” Varian replied, glancing at me again.
“I’d be foolish not to fear a man like Madden.
He is almost as influential and powerful as some of this country’s rulers, perhaps more than some.
So yes, I am afraid. But he knows I have no way of incriminating him.
He relied on followers who are unconcerned with the law. ”
Varian was lying. He couldn’t have known whether I recognised that the white-haired mage was Madden, and he would have kept it to himself. He wove enough truth into his words to make the lies difficult to spot.
“I know I have much to prove regarding my intentions,” he continued, “and all I ask is that you allow me to begin today. I understand it will take time, but perhaps you will see that I am not like them.”
My teeth ground together, my chest careening with anger. “You mean like Caius? Or Goyle, or Dexter?” My voice cracked, hoarse with the lump lodged in my throat. “Because they did your filthy work for you. You had them beat me so your hands would stay clean.”
My hands shook as I balled them into fists beneath the table.
Gwin poured another glass and slid it toward me. It was my third, far beyond my limit, but I didn’t care. I hoped the wine would dull my mind enough so I could sleep later.
I should have been considering the Order’s motives. But my fingers curled, nails biting into my palms, and all I could think was that Madden knew exactly who I was.
A gentle draft brushed my shoulder, ghosting across my skin like quiet fingers. But the air felt too stale to draw a full breath, my body too hot.
“I didn’t order them to do that to you,” Varian said quietly, his expression nearly devoid of emotion. “What Caius did—”
I sprang to my feet, the glass clattering across the table and spilling wine. My heart hammered against my ribs. I wouldn’t let him speak about that, wouldn’t let them hear how utterly debased I had been on that filthy floor.
“Caius can rot,” I said through gritted teeth. “And so can you.”
I didn’t look at anyone as I left the table.