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.”
“Theirdesign?” 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 ifshehad 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 wasGiddeon 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.”
