Casrian placed a hand on her shoulder. “No.”
Emrys grimaced. “I thought you’d say that.” He leaned forward. “They think you’re compromised. The smart thing would be to keep your distance. It might even help her.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Why does the archbishop care whether I come to the capital?”
Emrys ignored her, his attention fixed on Casrian. “I didn’t tell anyone what you told me in confidence. I want you to know that. I didn’t put the charm in my report and will likely be reprimanded when that comes out, which we both know it will.”
“Why would it come out?” she asked, louder.
The charm was the least of her sins. There was the blood spell too, and whatever Asher had seen when the trees claimed her. She’d thought she could forget it. Put it all behind her.
Emrys blew out a breath and finally looked at her. He leaned back again in his chair. “There’s to be an investigation.”
“That’s bullshit,” Asher said harshly. “Rowan helped kill the witch. I wouldn’t have made it out otherwise. You know how close it was in the end. We might not have been able to kill her at all if she was at full strength.”
Emrys’s jaw tightened. “I’m sure that will be taken into account.”
“It will be taken into account,” Asher repeated scornfully. “Do you hear yourself? How could you let the archbishop open an investigation?”
“Let her?” Emrys scoffed. “You think I can order the archbishop to do anything?”
“You could have convinced her that there was nothing to investigate.” Asher narrowed his eyes, looking angrier than Rowan had ever seen him. “What did you say in your report?”
“I didn’t mention the charm,” Emrys told him. “I said you and Rowan attacked the witch in the cell and managed to temporarily overpower her long enough to escape. I have a copy of my full report. You should read it.” His gaze swept the room. “All of youshould read it so we’re on the same page.”
Casrian advanced on Emrys. “I don’t care what your demon-cursed report says. You’re not taking Rowan anywhere.”
Daris caught his arm before he reached Emrys’s chair. “Cas… Stop.”
Emrys climbed to his feet. “You think Iwantto do this? Just take a minute to think it through. She’s going, one way or another. Better that she goes willingly. Better that she goes with all of us supporting her position.”
“Absolutely not,” Casrian said, his voice nearly vibrating with rage.
This couldn’t be happening.
She stared down at her lap. Her left hand was fisted in her skirts. Her right, still wrapped in a bandage, only trembled.
“I don’t want to go to the capital,” she said quietly.
Casrian squared off against Emrys who only held up his hands. “What are you going to do? Hole up here? Fight the whole damned army?”
No.
“It’s not right,” Casrian snapped. “You know it’s not right.”
“And yet I will do my duty, as I suggest you do yours.”
Emrys turned to face her. His back straightened. His green eyes locked on hers.
“Rowan Yahl, you have been accused of witchcraft.”
“No,” she whispered, and then said it again, louder this time. “No. You know I’m not a witch, Emrys. I helped you.”
His stern expression crumpled. “It’s a formality. I have to say the words. It doesn’t mean?—”
Casrian knelt in front of her. “I won’t let any harm come to you, angel. I’ll fix this.”
But she knew he couldn’t. He was only one man, no matter how heroic and decent. He couldn’t fix this if the Church decided differently. And then what would happen to her mother? To him?
