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“It’s not what your mother thought it was, Roxanne, don’t you understand? That’s why it didn’t work on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When I was born, Brigid gave me a blessing of true sight. I can only see what’s really there. If it were a relic made to show someone the full weight of their crimes, there would be no sin I wouldn’t behold—even if it didn’t kill me, I would have seen something.”

Roxanne’s eyes welled with tears, and she shook her head in disbelief. “No. I don’t believe that.”

If Saga could get through to her, there might be hope. “Those women didn’t kill themselves out of guilt. Whatever they saw in that reflection was deceit specifically designed to drive them mad. They went for their eyes so they couldn’t see it anymore, and when that didn’t stop the visions, they kept going.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, she told me…”

“Who told you?” Saga glanced toward the compact as clarity dawned. There were too many mirrors. She’d watched Roxanne place a full one in front of Fiore and break the other two in half. It was possible the victims had more than one shard each, yet… Hadn’t Iona admitted she’d recovered one? “Who gave you the compact, Roxanne?”

“She lied to me!” the girl screamed. “Like everyone else, she fucking lied to me!”

“Who lied to you?” Saga demanded.

“Io—” Roxanne’s voice choked, and she turned her head to the side as a coughing fit overtook her. Blood sputtered past her lips onto the floor—bright red and frothy. Hemoptysis. Blood from the lungs.

“Shit.” Saga moved off her immediately, hoping removing any obstruction would alleviate the symptom. “I need a doctor!” she screamed, hoping at least someone beyond the empty reception could hear her. She gently gathered the girl into her arms and shifted her on her side to prevent her from choking on her own blood.

Roxanne coughed harder and the expectorated blood increased. This was not caused by pressure to her chest. This was something worse. This was something supernatural. She looked anguished, then apologetic. A weak, sibilant breath trembled past her lips, a sound somewhere between a sob and “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” It was all she could do, all she could say. The magic was moving quickly, and it chilled the air around them.

Roxanne’s body spasmed violently, and Saga hugged her tighter.

There was movement beyond the door, and while Saga saw no one, she swore she heard the low, rushing sound of a crow flapping its wings. She exhaled through the tightness in her chest and kissed the top of Roxanne’s head. “Everything is going to be all right. Someone’s coming for you.”

Roxanne had said so little, and yet, it was enough. She had violated her vow, and the magic took its toll. Her form convulsed one last time and grew slack, her soul’s connection with her body severed by the utterance of just one syllable. This was what it looked like when a geas was truly broken.

Saga checked her breathing. Nothing. She felt her wrist and neck for a pulse. Still nothing. She looked around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the psychopomp or the soul now in her care. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Saga?” Avery’s voice was gentle but confused.

Six pairs of eyes were locked on her from those seated around the table, appraising her chaotic appearance, the blood, and the lifeless girl in her arms.

“I just wanted to help her.”

Chapter 42 Avery

“When they told me I had a visitor, yours was the last face I expected to see.”

Avery lingered in the threshold of the interview room, waiting for indication from the zână that “unexpected” did not also mean “unwanted.” “Not even for a social call?”

Velouette’s serene expression melted into a smile. “Cutting it close,” she warned with a nod to the seat across from her. “Almost too late for that.”

“I thought only the children you guarded had bedtimes so early,” Avery remarked, pulling out her chair. “Or was that an attempt at gallows humor for your trial?”

“I don’t presume to know how someone like me should be sentenced for my crimes.” The glow that fey of her ilk naturally possessed was dimmer, dulled with the heaviness of her spirit. “To be honest, I’m not sure there’s precedent for an advocate committing a crime while still actively representing in the courts.”

“Certainly that can’t be right,” Avery said. “You’re more or less lawyers.”

Charmed, Velouette allowed herself a chuckle.

“I’ve requested to speak on your character.” It was an admission that surprised both of them, and for a moment Avery let it stand on its own in silence. “I believe you were put in a very unique situation, and I would like to do whatever I can to ensure the magistrate assigned to your trial takes that into account.”

Velouette looked touched, like she might want to say something like “I didn’t know you still thought highly of me” or “I’m glad we’re still friends” or even a simple “thank you.” Perhaps she didn’t dare speak the words aloud for fear they’d be refuted. “Do you know who might take it on? I suppose it is difficult when it involves…all of them.”