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Seated at the center of the table, before the thorny crown, a tall man with bronze skin and unnervingly still features said, “Cassian, the Curse of Cain.” His dark eyes assessed me with a steadiness that made my skin prickle.

The last man, seated beside Cassian, was powerfully built and dressed in black robes. His presence somehow made the massive room feel smaller. “Seraphel,” he said. His lips pressed closed for a moment as he looked at me. Then he inclined his head at a pair of chairs set on the floor, within the curve of the dais. “Sit.”

I sat. Tristan didn't. Instead, he stood before his chair and told them everything. Osric sending the reliquary to me, the silver piece hidden within it, how it drew Tristan to the museum, the markings it bore, and our failed attempt to destroy it. He told them what Haversham said about Osric's intention to remove Curses from their vessels and how he came to my lab. He told them about the theft of the silver piece and the Pull he'd felt when it had been used against him. But when he came to Mirana, the Curses stopped him.

“Was the psychic a witch?” Tanvi asked.

“Yes.”

“We can't discount her then. Proceed.”

Tristan told them about her warning.

“Two men? So, Osric isn't working alone,” Edmund said.

“Why do I feel as if you haven't told us everything?” Bart asked. “What can Destiny hold? And what was all that about reaching and balancing?”

“Heartbreak drew me to Destiny,” he said. “Destiny is—”

“You mean you were pulled to her?” Alistair interrupted.

“No, it wasn't a Pull. Just as the silver piece's draw felt different, so did my need to be with Destiny. It was so strong that I nearly lost control with her.”

“Control?” Cassian asked.

I felt my face flame.

“Heartbreak magnified my arousal when we were kissing. It grew so great I doubted my ability to stop, should she have asked it of me.”

“Interesting,” Alistair said. “But you did stop.”

“Yes, I stopped before it could get to that point.” Tristan glanced at me. “When Heartbreak's Pull was magnified by its name, she took some of my pain. Destiny is an empath. She can feel a person's emotions and draw them out.”

“Impossible!” Seraphel declared. “Even an empath can't take the pain of a Curse away.”

“Oh, shut up, you big poopy head!” Bart flung his hand at him as if to shove him away. “Tristan's Curse is Heartbreak! Of course an empath can take his pain. It's not like a hangover.” He waved at himself. “Or—”

“Stop calling me that!” Seraphel roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I meant, you poop-chute fu—”

“Enough, Bart!” Tanvi looked from him to me. “This is hardly the time to act like children.”

“Well, he is the Curse of Sodomy,” Bart huffed.

“The Curse of Sodom!” Seraphel corrected. “I hold the Curse of Sodom and Gomorrah!”

My eyes went wide.

“Same thing.” Bart rubbed his head. And for the love of God, stop shouting. A mischievous look came to his face and he added, “Are you pulled to gay bars?”

“It is not the same thing! And it has nothing to do with my sexuality or anyone else's!”

“Could we please get back to the testimony?” Edmund motioned to us. “Yes? Good. Go on, Tristan. You say she she took some of your pain, but not all?”

“Yes, I should also mention that Heartbreak stopped pushing me toward Destiny after she took some of my pain.”

“Why do you think that is?” Tanvi asked.