“Did you knowingly conceal the presence of dangerous magic from us?”
“Did you tamper with the memories of Ministry staff?”
“Intention is difficult to quantify,” I reply evenly. “But I can tell you what I did—and why.”
I fold my hands on the lectern so he cannot see them tremble. The wood is smooth beneath my palms. “I prevented a soul transfer spell from coming to fruition, stopped a massacre, and ensured the knowledge of that spell died with the people who tried to use it.”
Murmurs ripple through the hall, a low tide of unease.
“And the memory tampering?” Councillor Reep presses, eyes bright with self-satisfaction. “You admit that was deliberate?”
“Yes,” I say. “So no one else could recreate what was done to me.”
“You see?” He sweeps a hand towards the other councillors, theatrical. “She admits to repeated use of highly specialised, uncontrolled magic without Ministry oversight. She wipes minds at will. How can anyone here pretend she is safe?”
Oh, look at that. It seems I have my first volunteer. Councillor Reep forgets that in any room, knowledge is the ultimate power.
While I answer, I split off a fragment of myself. Inwardly, filaments unfurl, slipping through the Ministry’s records like threads through cloth. That part of me siftsthrough documents and names, hunting quietly for what I need.
Councillor Reep does not stop talking.
“Do you deny,” he continues, “that you restrained my colleagues in a manner designed to humiliate and terrorise them?”
“I deny that humiliation was my goal,” I reply. “My goal was to stop them from killing me.”
Across the hall, Riker snorts. Even the Alpha Prime’s mouth twitches, the smallest betrayal of amusement. Lark glares at Councillor Reep like she is measuring the distance to his jaw.
Councillor Reep ignores it, leaning forward, knuckles white on the desk edge. “You are too powerful to be allowed to operate without strict supervision. You pick and choose which laws you obey. You have already admitted to deceiving Councillor Kane.”
Guilt flares, sharp and familiar—but I do not let it show. I keep my face composed, chin lifted.
“You have broken more laws than any of us know,” he goes on. “Who is to say you won’t do so again the moment we relax our guard? Who is to say you aren’t lying now?”
While he sharpens every question into a knife, my detached fragment finds it.
There.
A chain of messages. Encrypted, but not to me. I see Meredith’s name, then Councillor Reep’s. Dates. Times. References to “the island,” to “the house,” to “paperweights in position.”
Everything I need.
Now that my face mirrors my emotions, it is hard not tosmile. I keep my expression neutral; only the slightest tilt of my head betrays that anything has changed.
“With respect, Councillor Reep,” I say, “I am not the one who organised a covert raid on a neutral island and authorised the use of illegal magic.”
He stiffens, colour rising in blotches. “What are you implying?”
I lift my hand.
Paper answers the call with a soft, whispering rush. New folders appear in front of every leader—everyone but him.
A hush falls as people flip them open. The sound of pages turning is suddenly deafening in the quiet.
“Councillor Timothy Reep,” I say mildly, “the rest of the attendees now have access to your private correspondence with Councillor Meredith Jackson. You are implicated in both the attack on my home and the assault on the paper mages’ island.”
For a breath, he freezes. Then he surges to his feet, face mottled red. “This is an outrage. Fabrication?—”
A nearby shifter simply plants a firm hand on his shoulder and forces him back down, rumbling a low growl.
