The retrieval team makes her hesitate, and in his mind’s eye, he sees her rewatch that three different ways, focusing on the magic user’s faces. She rewatches Grayson’s memory-film again in the kitchen, where he’d decided to stay. She touches on those moments where he’d been most loved and again on the kids.
Her absence leaves behind a strange inertia, as if that high-speed train they’d been riding had come to a dead stop.
It is one thing to dread being called a liar. It is another to sit bare to the bone before a stranger and wait to learn how she has judged what she found.
Her youthful face gives nothing away, and the strange glow in her green eyes fades.
Well?Grayson asks.
Grayson
Well?Grayson asks Verity, but Percival is coming to his grand finale.
“And so, with that purpose in mind, The Nashville Guild will continue under my leadership, to grow this institution to the highest level in America, and the world.” Percival finishes, and for a moment, the room heaves an inaudible sigh of relief. Kirwan claps enthusiastically, and a few of the staff reluctantly join her.
“Thank you, thank you. Now, we will begin once the Truthseeker arrives—” Percival’s head swings toward the door as a tall, good-looking man in a designer suit and sunglasses guides Verity through the door. His mouth twists when he sees Verity in her casual jeans and hoodie.
“We welcome you, Truthseeker.”
Kirwan doesn’t bother hiding it now. She sits forward, a zealous fervor clear on her face, mouth curved with expectation.
“Thank you. Why have you called on the Truthseeker today?” she asks, plopping her jean-clad butt in the lone wooden chair. It had been for Grayson, he knew, but Verity isn’t having any of Percival’s machinations.
Rowan huffs behind Gideon, but the rest of Grayson’s pack is silent with nerves.
“You are called upon to determine if Novice Grayson Pearce has been truthful.”
“Sit,” Verity waves. “I am the Truth. I bear the light,” she intones. The words land like a script she’s said a hundred times.
“By oath and appointment, I am bound to witness what is offered, and to speak only to veracity,” she continues, gaze sweeping the room. “I am not here to determine guilt. I am not here to argue motive. I am not here to punish. I am here to answer one question: Is the respondent truthful, as asked?”
Percival opens his mouth like he’s about to give another speech.
Verity keeps going anyway.
“Respondent Grayson Pearce”—she says his name clearly—“do you consent to Truthseeking under this tribunal? Consent must be spoken.”
In Grayson’s mind, her voice slips in like a quick elbow to the ribs.
Just say yes, dude. We already did the hard part.
Grayson swallows. “Yes.”
“Consent received.” Verity nods once, like she’s ticking a box. She lifts her hand, letting the room see what it expects to see. Her expression doesn’t change. If anything, she looks faintly bored by the theater of it.
“In the course of my Truthseeking,” she says, measured, “I find no deliberate falsehood in the respondent’s statements as presented to this tribunal.” Then she adds, voice still flat. “The respondent has been truthful.”
Nix makes a small sound beside him—half laugh, half breath—like he’s been holding it in so long his body forgot how to release it normally. Across the aisle, Ignatius lets out an enthusiastic, indignant little“Ha!”that he tries to turn into a cough when a few heads swivel, but his eyes are bright with it, anyway.
Percival’s face goes smooth as color creeps up his neck, betraying him. He nods once, stiff, as if this was how he’d expected it to go from the beginning.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kirwan is deathly pale and still, like prey that’s realized the underbrush movedbecause something is in it.Her hands lock on the edge of her chair, knuckles white, and her eyes flick toward the back of the room.
Verity’s eyes meet Grayson’s for half a beat, a twinkle there and gone in the next blink, then her voice slips into his mind again.
Before you start spiraling—yes. You held things back.
Grayson’s stomach twists.I did.
