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There was only a flicker of doubt in her expression, but it was there.

Maybe if Saga knocked back everyone’s chairs she could at least prevent them from immediately gazing into the mirrors. If Roxanne didn’t turn one on her first.

“I know what I know,” the girl said with finality. “I’ve come this far because I was serving justice. I made things right and set the scales back into balance, and for my reward, it brought them all before me on a silver platter.”

Set the scales back into balance? The girl was talking like an iele.

Roxanne’s expression hardened as she found her resolve. “The council has been responsible for the sundering of countless witches. Countless women. Tell me, how are they any better than the men who used to burn women at the stake?” Her anger rising, she dug into her pocket and produced the compact.

So Avery had been right. But if Roxanne had put one shard into the compact to protect herself, why not the others? “They were scared and looking to control the populace. You and I both know those trials had very little to do with magic or actual witchcraft.”

“How is this not about control?” Roxanne demanded. “My mother may have killed a man, but what of yours? A woman who acted out of love. A woman whose lawbreaking hurt no one. You know why they sundered her? Really?” She pointed at Gideon accusingly. “Fear. Fear of what we can do, of what we may become. For centuries they have comforted themselves with their power and immortality, convinced none of us would ever be a threat… Your mother was capable of proving them wrong, Saga.”

You just make him nervous…like your mother.

“She’d been chosen. Do you know how rare that is? The Other Side barely takes notice of our realm, but your mother was beloved in the eyes of a goddess. She was gifted raw power and was talented enough to channel it without it destroying her—so much she summoned a god. That is your legacy.”

In this state, Gideon did not possess the threatening aura Saga had been introduced to. He seemed so helpless now, like her mother had been when he dealt her sentence. Fate sat before him. Inevitable when he opened his eyes. He could not run from it, would merely wake to the nightmare Roxanne had set up for him.

“Isn’t this exactly what he deserves after what he did to your mother?”

Chapter 40 Avery

“You are pleading guilty to the charge of murder?” Fiore’s echo clarified. They sounded tired. This trial had been less than straightforward and, with multiple accused, was far more involved and lengthy than typical.

“I’m saying I gave John Hingley exactly what he deserved. I’m not guilty of anything.” Abigail’s features looked painted and luminescent. It was not surprising to Avery that she had been accepted among the ranks of the iele at Reprise. Yet for all her angelic appearance, her voice lacked the hypnotic melody, vitriol spilling from every word. Her face contorted somewhere between the pout of a child and the glare of a Fury.

“Should have left it at that,” Gideon growled. “No Justice, no Mercy, no further words of defense.”

“Shall we dissect one of your cases next?” Fiore asked in a tone that reminded the room that dragons were far closer to gods than Archfey.

The recorded echo of Magistrate Castello clung to their patience. “Could you elaborate, Miss Rhyder, on what crime the deceased committed?”

“He told me he loved me. He told me he would always love me,” Abigail growled. “We were inseparable on that trip. He called me his little muse. Told me I was his whole world. The way he went on, I was certain he was going to propose to me.”

Fiore straightened their posture in recognition. “Velouette.”

The group turned to see the fey, wings flitting behind her as she moved quickly through the gallery on the far side with a paper clutched in her hand to give to Mercy Norton. It was a quick exchange, and even though he clearly gave her instructions for her next task, she stopped and stared at Abigail after taking only a few steps.

“But do you know what that bastard did at the end of that trip, Your Worship?” The way Abigail spat the honorific gave it a derogatory connotation. “He dumped me.”

“The crime, Miss Rhyder.”

Avery followed Velouette’s gaze, circling around to stand in front of the echo of Abigail so she could view them both at once. What was Velouette seeing that they couldn’t?

“Apparently,” snarked Abigail, “he was only giving me that amount of attention as a last hurrah! That trip was our goodbye because, since his wife was finally giving birth to his precious baby boy, he couldn’t be bothered with me anymore. It didn’t matter he used to fuck me when she was going to her gynecology appointments, oh no! Now he was ready to be a father.” Abigail reached up to fiddle with her heart-shaped necklace. A self-soothing gesture—a self-soothing gesture Avery had seen before with that very piece of jewelry.

Velouette slowly raised a hand to her mouth.

“She looks horrified,” Genevieve remarked.

“Zână used to bless human children in the womb—they can see a woman’s pregnancy,” Avery realized. “Even before the woman can.”

“And for that he deserved to die?” Fiore’s echo asked.

“For that he deserved to suffer,” Abigail spat. “Like he made me suffer. He should have been forced to look at every awful thing he did, every crime, every wrongdoing, and drown in the guilt of it!”

“But what was his crime, Miss Rhyder?”