Page 97 of Turncloak

Auria frowned. “So you do confess that it’s within the realms of possibility for a Bloodmoon to have infiltrated the Order using such a potion.”

“Of course it’s within the realms of—”

“Tell me, Captain Karvas,” she interjected, knowing that this was a man who hated to be interrupted. Let him grow rankled, ireful. Such a temperament might make him slip. “Do you trust the mages under your command?”

The captain’s cheeks reddened with barely suppressed anger. “I’ve seen enough in my career to be jaded.”

“No, then.”

“I suppose that would be an accurate summation.”

“Which explains why you did not even entertain the idea of taking us at our word—that you immediately assumed everything out of our mouths had been a lie, even when we’d given you no reason to doubt us in the past. Other than our out-of-work conversations with Killoran, of course, which I am happy to describe at great length. Yes, Killoran asked both of us in turn to help her retrieve the letter, but we both turned her down.”

“An easy thing to claim, but difficult to prove.”

Auria beamed genially. “Thankfully I’m in the habit of wearing a bracelet enchanted with a listening charm whenever I’m called to a crime scene—in case I end up capturing key evidence, you see.”

She held up her wrist to reveal a wire-thin silver bracelet inscribed with a series of enchanted spellwork. Withdrawing her wand from her pocket, she tilted her gaze to the judge.

“May I? Casting magic is not usually permitted in court, but…”

The judge nodded. “This is not a formal trial, so go ahead.”

Auria tapped the tip of her sapphire-studded willow wand to the bracelet, muttering the stanza of words that would recall the recordings of a specific date and time.

Saffron’s voice echoed through the room, tinny but unmistakable.

“My father wrote me a letter. Left it with Aspar, I think. I haven’t heard my mother or father’s voice for over twenty years. I want it more than I want to breathe. And I thought…maybe we could trade. I was with Tiernan when he died. I can tell you everything.”

“I am not your friend, Saffron. And it is far too great a risk for me to take you at your word, to believe without any real evidence that you’re undercover. Because what if you are lying? I will not dishonor Tiernan’s memory by using his final moments as a bartering chip, whether you want a letter or something far worse—because I have no doubt that’s where this leads. We make one trade, this innocent missive from your lost father, and you hold it over me forever. You threaten to tell my captain, the commissioner. You threaten to ruin me if I don’t play your game. So no, I refuse to engage with the very first move.”

“No, Auria, I would never—”

“They’re gone.” The muffled sounds of the street filtered through the bracelet. “You are ruining everything I hold dear, and I hate you, I really do. Because this all leads back to you, doesn’t it? My grandfather’s death, Tiernan’s. All my worldly pain stems from your choices. So stay away from me. Or I swear—to all the Saints in the sky—that I will toss you back in Duncarzus and throw away the key.”

Auria tapped the bracelet, ending the recording. She turned to Karvas, whose cheeks had deepened into a wrathful red-purple. “This last part was slightly petulant, I’ll confess.”

“It strikes me as rather convenient that you recorded such a conversation,” Karvas retorted, his tone low and hateful.

“Yes, how convenient that I’m so good at my job. As you can hear, I was under immense duress, pursuing witnesses down the busiest street in Atherin lest the Whitewings slay them before they could talk. Do you really think I stopped and thought, hmm, later, when I betray the very institution to which I’ve dedicated my life, I should have some evidence of this conversation?”

“It’s within the realms of—”

“Do you not hear how paranoid you sound?”

Judge Nercan rapped two fingers on the bench. “Careful, Marriosan—dangerously close to badgering.”

“Apologies, Your Honor,” Auria said sweetly. “Let’s move on to my evidence, shall we? I’m afraid it’s rather more conclusive than an empty drawer.”

44

• • • •

Justice Served, Vallin Grown

As Karvas left the stand, a heady buzz hummed through Auria, like she’d drunk a thousand cups of cønnafyr in quick succession. She’d forgotten how much she loved this. Truthfully, she got so much more satisfaction from it than she did from pursuing a criminal down a debauched street, than she did from deminite cuffs clicking around violent wrists.

The courtroom was her home, and she could not wait for the day she found her way back to it.