His next words were not words, but a scream. Loud and painful. Gwinifer threw her arms behind her head. The agony in his scream, it was nothing like my sentence.
“In the end, Lord of Mountheim, your salvation lies not in calculation, but in the virtues you manifest in your trial. Do not share, for this curse is yours to bear alone. Let it be your reckoning or your eternal reparation.”
The bright silver light shrank, fading away and leaving us in the dark. My palms were slick with sweat, my breathing shallow. Finnegan’s face had drained of colour. Gwin stared blankly at nothing.
“What was the final trial?” Finn asked.
Her focus shifted, and for the first time, I thought I saw something flicker in the judge’s icy gaze. A hint of emotion, perhaps pity. “The trials are never known by anyone but the offender. His curse could only have been lifted if he proved his virtue. He should have been presented with an opportunity to show he’s learned.”
“You make it sound like you did him a favour,” I said, forcing myself to keep an even tone. “Surely there were other options than damning him to a life like this.”
“I’m not a bestower of favours, Miss Darling,” Malory said, her hand clasped over her wrist, resting in front of her. “I’m a magister. I carry justice, but where the Fates decide, even I don’t have the power to stop it.”
Fear clawed at my throat.She isn’t helping, Caedmon,I said in my head, as if he could hear me.
“What does that mean for the estate?” Varian asked.
“Lord Reagan will be offered the opportunity to live among others of his kind,” Malory continued, addressing the staff coolly.
I wondered what kind that was.
“The lands will recover slowly. The harvests will improve, given time. Mountheim’s residents will retain their altered nature. But the next child born will not carry the curse, nor will their descendants.”
Her words rang hollow, empty. A punishment dressed as mercy.
Beside me, Varian stood motionless, listening intently to the judge. Gwinifer’s hands curled into a white-knuckled grip. Finn remained still, though his gaze flickered as if he were thinking, searching for a solution.
I racked my brain to remember what it said. It spoke of compassion and responsibility, fortitude and restraint. Trials of virtue, then—feats he might’ve performed years ago, a month ago, any time. Perhaps even now. If something truly defined his fate—if Fate were an entity—I wondered if today could have been his final trial, and if this interference was...planned.
For he’d chosen a cursed existence over risking Gwin’s life, Finn’s life. My life. He chose to protect, not to avenge.
He’d chosen compassion—for all the sacrificed—for his people, for their safety, for the lands he tried to restore. Every choice he made was bound by duty to protect them, all the relentless searching, the ceaseless digging for solutions that wouldn’t impact the citizens.
For going against almost a hundred Wraiths. That had to be a trial. The kind of trial that would cower most men—perhaps even kill them—but not Reagan.
For all the three-hour Audiences he committed to, endless pleas to address. I had no doubt he’d accepted the responsibility long ago, accepted the burden.
For his fortitude when he endured the horrific loss of his parents. For perhaps seeing the drained shells they had become and having to end their existence.
And yet—
I lifted my gaze to Finnegan, whose eyes were on me, as if he could hear my thoughts. In a few swift strides, I led him just out of the others’ earshot. Gwinifer’s voice rang out in the background, narrating Varian’s actions to the judge.
“I can’t understand why the curse hasn’t broken. You?” The words spilled from me, sharp and urgent.
His brows furrowed. “I got nothing either.”
We couldn’t stop. No, this felt wrong. “The curse is tied to his virtues. The crucibles he faced and proved himself in, yes?”
Finn’s gaze dropped, and I saw the flicker of something in his eyes—the same struggle I felt between hope and fear. His voice was quieter now, almost reluctant. “Yes, but the crucibles were trials, and if the curse didn’t break...”
My chest tightened, but I kept my mind clear. Calm. “Maybe it’s not as simple as this. Maybe it should have been broken. I can’t think of anything that would have damned him so badly that he would be deemed someone lacking compassion, responsibility, restraint, or fortitude.”
The virtues of a ruler. Had every person been held to these standards of virtue, would anyone be deemed worthy? Would we all be cursed forever if it had been us, instead of him, who was born into a bloodline that required him to be almost flawless?
Finn’s eyes focused on the ground, his hand pressed against his temple.
“Mother...” He looked at me now, a quiet recognition in his eyes. “You think there is something wrong with the curse?” he asked, and I nodded.
