Lucian crossed his arms as his supposed mother ate her breakfast. Very prudently, Theobald had decided to put Lydia Villamar in a place where Cyril couldn’t easily reach, and thus couldn’t negotiate her away from testifying. Somewhat less prudently, that location was the mother-in-law suite outside Aurelia’s cottage. Lucian had already mandated that the two be kept separate, but he was still vexed by this. Lucian didn’t know how, but it seemed Helen’s father had been able to find out that Lucian was using this house as a meeting point with the monastics.

  He wasn’t pleased that Aurelia was bearing witness, but not everything could be perfect. He didn’t have two secret hideouts, and keeping her at Charlton’s place invited disaster. On the bright side, it let him perform a valuable test. He had mixed Aurelia’s blood into Lydia’s meal. That wasn’t some weird perversion on his part—with the tattoo, her blood was a weak poison to those possessed or influenced by demons. Aurelia hadn’t complained at all when he’d brought up the idea, as she’d promised. Thus far, Lydia wasn’t displaying any of the signs of being influenced by a demon—no indigestion or choking. A small relief.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Lucy,” Lydia said. “I’m sorry that I fell asleep last night. Mommy just got a little bit exhausted on the carriage ride.”

  Lucian noted detachedly that she still talked to him as if he were a small child. Perhaps that had been the last time that she’d paid any attention to him.

  “So, what exactly are you going to testify about?” Lucian asked, not engaging with her on any emotional level.

  Lydia didn’t appear to be a fool—he saw on her face that she understood his deliberate refusal to engage. Aurelia watched them both like a bored cat, listening to the words with a vacant expression on her face.

  “I’ve been married to your father longer than you’ve been alive,” Lydia said. “My father made us marry. He was the former Duke of Villamar. But before all of that, I was still a dark mage. I was a Student Ambassador and I learned under the gold ranked instructors, same as him.”

  Aurelia’s head shifted to Lucian.

  Lucian raised a brow. “Is that your testimony? I think that’s public knowledge.”

  Aurelia’s head shifted back to Lydia. She kept doing that as the conversation moved onward.

  Lydia studied him strangely, like his response was bewildering to her. “Well, I-I… what I mean, Lucy, is that I was always by your father’s side when he achieved his ‘great feats.’ Why do you think that I was able to help you become part of the Concord? Because he knew that fighting me would be costly. Because I have the dirt. I can help you. He fears me.”

  “We’ve established that. I want to hear the dirt,” Lucian said.

  Lydia reached forward, offering her hand. “Lucy… my lucky boy…”

  Lucian eyed her hand, then looked at her. “Are you worried about what’s going to happen once Denzel becomes the Duke of Villamar? Is that why you agreed to do this?”

  “Lucian Villamar,” she said sharply. “I’m here for you. How could you think anything else?”

  “Okay. Then let’s coordinate strategy. What’s your testimony?” Lucian asked for a third time, just as detached as the times before.

  Perhaps realizing that there was no way she could avoid this, Lydia leaned back in her chair. “I have… I have information about how the Inquisition really fell. Not the way your father tells it, but how it really happened. Your father didn’t beat them—he made an agreement with Belcourt. The First Inquisitor traded his entire organization for a truce.”

  Lucian didn’t know how to respond to that. “That’s certainly interesting… but considering the fact that Cyril just lost a leg fighting Belcourt, I think that the accusation might be a bit defanged. Do you have anything that could provide physical evidence?”

  “Yes. I have years and years of cruel things your father has done in the name of preserving the peace. He’s no less of a barbarian than any demon,” Lydia said. “But the most striking evidence… he carries it on him, always.” She leaned in. “His disease.”

  “What?” Lucian rested his arms on the table.

  “The disease he bears… it’s of his own making. He was studying the Black Bloom. Claimed to want to cure it, but the fact that it consumed him… that should tell you all about his intentions, don’t you think?” Lydia raised her brows and smiled. “He wasn’t trying to cure anything. He was trying to repurpose it.”

  Lucian narrowed his eyes. He had briefly considered a resemblance between the two, but the telltale signs of the Black Bloom weren’t present. Cyril’s disease looked shadowy, malignant. The Black Bloom was more of a physical rot, resembling frostbite in appearance. Perhaps it had been imbued with Cyril’s own dark magic, but that was stretching credulity.

  “And there’s physical evidence of this?” Lucian pressed.

  “There is,” Lydia confirmed. “Once I provide testimony, the Concord will be empowered to obtain it and confirm.”

  Lucian tapped a nail on the table. Lydia seemed very certain of what she said. At the same time, she also seemed very unreliable. Thus far, he didn’t share Theobald’s confidence. He wanted to have a conversation with the man, but he was away visiting his daughter.

  “Where were you, anyway, when Theobald found you?” Lucian asked. “He said you weren’t in Golvenne, yet I distinct remember you responded to my letter.”

  “You wrote me a letter? I never received it. I was in southern Riverra, on the coastal estate.” Lydia sighed. “Your father… he laced my food with laudanum. He knows I’ve always had a weakness for the stuff ever since I started using it to address my particularly harsh woman’s ailments. Then, laudanum always ‘just so happened’ to be near.” She paused, then glanced at Lucian guiltily. “But that’s over, now.”

  “Laudanum?” Lucian repeated.

  “I know you don’t like it, but it’s gone,” Lydia said insistently. “I swear it, Lucian.”

  Lucian was confused. He didn’t know what laudanum was, but it seemed Lucian and Lydia had a history of it. He didn’t want to bring it up, now, lest he expose himself.

  “Where’s the washroom?” Lydia asked, looking around.

  “Go outside,” Lucian said.

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  Lydia stood with a nod, then made to leave. Once she was gone, Lucian rubbed his forehead tiredly.

  Aurelia walked up to the table, leaning on it with a certain languid elegance. “Laudanum is a tincture of alcohol and opium.”

  “Oh,” Lucian said, nodding.

  Lucian digested that new information. Then, Cyril… he’d essentially deliberately made Lydia relapse? He wasn’t quite sure if these people had the concept of addiction, but he certainly did. That was a lowly thing to do.

  “You really didn’t know that? And yet it seemed like it was a persistent issue between the two of you.” Aurelia watched Lucian. He met her gaze for a moment briefly before looking away. “I’ve had a theory about you,” she continued.

  “Yeah?” Lucian asked, curious.

  “Have you ever seen someone meet their parent for the first time as an adult?” Aurelia asked. “I have. Several of my brothers and sisters were raised separately from their parents, only to meet them later in life. I’m having déjà vu after that conversation you two shared.”

  “Lydia was often absent,” Lucian said.

  “I’ve been watching your actions for some time,” she continued. “I thought you were a soothsayer, someone who could see the future. Like the True Divine Beast. But that’s not it, is it? It’s not like you could see glimpses. It’s like you knew all, like you’ve been watching from on high with perfect details.”

  “You don’t need details,” Lucian said.

  “No, I don’t. And perhaps I’m overthinking things. I’ve long thought about ways to transfer my soul between bodies to quell my fear of death, after all, and so perhaps I’m jumping to conclusions.” She leaned her head on her hand. “You had such conviction when you said I should confess. It rattled me, I’ll admit. I still can’t get it out of my head. But… when I overheard details of your trial from Theobald, from the monastics… it made me pause.”

  Lucian narrowed his eyes. He supposed she'd been paying attention to the outside world better than he thought.

  “I was thinking that it was somewhat hypocritical of you to suggest I confess, considering how you’re handling this trial of yours,” Aurelia said evenly, crossing her arms. “It’s precisely what I did, no? Blaming another for all my sins. I blamed demons, now you intend to blame Cyril. Could someone really be so blind to the hypocrisy? You sounded so sure, so righteous! Were you really just lying? You seem to act as if you genuinely didn’t do these things, that you’re being wrongfully accused.” Lucian looked at her sharply. “It makes no sense to me… unless you genuinely didn’t do those things. But considering how damning the evidence is, that would mean you’re not Lucian.”

  As Lucian felt a wave of anxiety and anger in equal measure, the door to the cottage opened again, and Lydia poked her head back in.

  “Where’s the washroom, again? I don’t see any other buildings nearby,” Lydia pressed.

  Lucian turned his head. “The world is your oyster. Go into the woods, be free,” he told her, some annoyance leaking into his tone. “Watch out for shaggy white dogs. They’re sentient.”

  Lydia looked a bit mortified, but she sheepishly shut the door without another word. Aurelia was still staring at him.

  Why in the hell is Aurelia the first to figure it out? Lucian thought, a little miffed. And I haven’t even revealed anything else to her about me, that’s the worst part. Maybe she’s not as dumb as I thought…

  “So… who are you, then?” Aurelia pressed. “An agent sent by the heavens? A spirit intervening in the world? How can you possibly explain all this unbelievable knowledge you possess?”

  “Lucian Villamar,” he insisted, but it sounded like a lie even in his ears. He ground his teeth together. “Delude yourself however you want.”

  Aurelia stayed silent, faintly smiling. She always managed to get under his skin.

  “Something you should know,” Lucian said, hoping to dispel this feeling. “We’re going on the offensive, soon.”

  Aurelia looked at him in shock. “Pardon?”

  “Yep. Fact is, we’ve shown our hand,” Lucian declared, popping his knuckles. “First Emperor knows that we have intimate knowledge of all his activities. He’d be a fool to keep things as they are—he’s going to change up, in a big way. We have to take advantage of the knowledge we have to move quickly and claim what we can. Rowan and I… we’re preparing for a purge of Verne. A big ol’ demon slaughter.”

  This was Rowan’s idea, in fact. Lucian didn’t have the courage. Rowan, though… he intended to divert any suspicion away from Lucian forevermore, and make Verne a safe place in the process. It was a hell of a divergence, but seemed like the right play so long as it didn’t spiral out of hand.

  “Don’t worry,” Lucian said, meeting her eyes. “I’ll still be saving the meanest ones for you.”

  Aurelia did look a little uneased, but her face quickly calmed. “That’s fine. If I’m fighting, that means you’ll be there,” she said simply. “You wouldn’t dare let me out of your sight. And if you’re there, everything will be fine.”

  Lucian lost again, frowning. It seemed like she had more confidence in him than he did. He didn’t exactly want to shatter that illusion. He missed when he could be mean to Aurelia. But she’d kept her word about being totally cooperative, going so far as to bleed for him without complaint. He’d keep his word, too.

  ***

  Lucian returned to Charlton’s estate. When he arrived, the butler immediately stepped up to him.

  “Lord Lucian, Mr. Lowenthal has asked to see you as soon as possible,” the man said politely. “He… seems to be very excited.”

  After asking where Charlton was, Lucian headed to the place—the study. Once inside, he was surprised to see how disorderly the room was. Charlton was sitting on the floor, leaning over papers. His beard had been stained with ink.

  “Lucian,” he said, turning his head when he arrived. He scrambled to his feet. “Lucian, I think I’ve figured out another aspect of your Formless Essence!”

  “Yeah? And why are you so excited?” Lucian pressed.

  Charlton walked up to him and grabbed both his arms. “I believe I’ve solved the matter of blessings and purified essence.”

  Lucian raised a brow. “You do?”

  His retirement was coming early? Hallelujah.

  “When you use demonic energy, does it go inside your Inquisitor’s Mark?” Charlton asked. He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t. At the end of the day, your Formless Essence can only replicate impermanent energies, transient power. Purified essence—they’re literal purified souls. Blessings, too, have become a part of you.” Charlton mimed tearing something away. “That ripping sensation you describe is quite literally tearing you apart. If the Formless Essence were as dangerous as I feared, it would’ve let you do so—and doing so would’ve killed you. Instead, it protected you.”

  Lucian crossed his arms in some alarm. “I see. So… transferring blessings is off the table.”

  “Not necessarily,” Charlton raised a cautionary finger, then pointed it to a board. “Look at this diagram.”

  Lucian looked at the diagram. He realized in that moment he wasn’t patient enough for this, and looked back at Charlton. “My soul is wounded. The words are blurry,” he said, lying flatly.

  “Ah. I see.” Charlton clasped his hands together, wringing them eagerly. “The bottom line is this. You cannot transfer blessings. I believe you can, however, transfer their effect, in the form of a spell. If you were to weave a spell out of the blessing’s effect, you—”

  “I could use it on them, instead of just myself,” Lucian said in revelation, his tone excited.

  “Specifically, you could impart it to them so that they could activate it independently,” Charlton defined.

  “But not all blessings are temporary boosts of power. Some provide constantly-active abilities,” Lucian said. “What then?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Nevertheless, I think the possibilities of transference may still hold,” Charlton said.

  He raised his hand up and scratched his chin. If this was true, would it now be justifiable to get every single blessing?