Lucian had elected to avoid Lydia primarily because he worried about any complications arising if she realized that something was different about her son. Maybe that was an unfounded worry, and he’d made a huge mistake. Whatever the case, she was already standing at the podium. Thus far, Theobald hadn’t been wrong in his assessment of how things would play out. Lucian would trust him for now.

  “So, Lydia…” Theobald began, walking before her. “How long have you known Duke Cyril Villamar?”

  “Long before he was called duke. He was my cousin,” she explained. “We were born around the same time, and thus we were raised together in the Villamar household.”

  Theobald met her gaze. “You had the same tutors, the same nursing maids, the same everything, correct?”

  Lydia nodded. “Yes.”

  “Would it be safe to say that you’ve spent the most time with Cyril out of everyone in the world?” Theobald pressed.

  “It certainly would,” she confirmed.

  “What would you say he was like as a child?” Theobald asked.

  “I’d say…” Lydia paused to think. “He always had a certain unfeeling quality to his character.”

  “Could you elaborate?”

  Lydia’s gaze wandered. “If he was caught doing something—stealing, or hurting something, for instance—it didn’t bother him that he’d done something wrong. It bothered him only that he’d gotten caught. He only avoided doing something out of fear of consequence, never because of any ideals. As the years passed, he didn’t stop doing what he wanted. He merely got better at hiding it.”

  Lucian looked over at Cyril. He looked incensed, his nostrils flaring. This was a man that had total control over his public image, and now the person that knew him best was essentially testifying against him. Thus far, Lydia sounded clear and sane. Must’ve been infuriating… but considering how stoic Cyril generally was, perhaps there was more to it.

  “Would you say that his emotionlessness was the defining characteristic of his personality?” Theobald asked.

  “I would.”

  Theobald cradled his chin. “It sounds like you don’t have a high opinion of him.”

  “I think he’s… monstrous,” Lydia said outright. “Our childhood was an education for how to get away with doing whatever he wanted without facing consequences. He was always far more intelligent than I was. I could never surpass him at anything.”

  Theobald walked around the podium as he let those words hang. “Why were you wed, then?”

  “My father was the previous Duke of Villamar. The duchy’s inheritance law dictated that only males can inherit, so I was passed over in favor of Cyril. Ultimately, our fathers chose to wed me to Cyril rather than change the law and risk a succession crisis,” Lydia explained. “Cyril was the one that manipulated that situation to come to pass.”

  Cyril audibly scoffed. When Lucian looked over, he was shaking his head and grinding his teeth.

  Theobald held up some papers. “You were married before you even entered the Collegium together, correct?”

  “We were wed at sixteen, yes,” she confirmed.

  “You were both Student Ambassadors at the Collegium, were you not?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Theobald pointed. “You were by his side when Cyril began to earn his reputation. Most of these events you witnessed firsthand.”

  “I was part of them, even,” Lydia said.

  “Shall we run through the list of Cyril’s achievements so that you can provide perspective?” Theobald asked, holding a paper up.

  The lawyer on the Empire’s side stood up. “Judge, I have to protest this line of questioning. This isn’t relevant to the matter of Lucian Villamar.”

  “For multiple hearings, Theobald showed extreme leniency while you went on tangents about Lucian Villamar’s character. I believe the same leeway is in order,” the judge shot down immediately. “Continue, Theobald.”

  Theobald smiled. Allowing the other lawyers to run wild had ultimately played to his advantage, it seemed.

  “…then, let’s start. Cyril was said to have personally resolved the hostage crisis regarding the Sacral Princess in Beltrue. He slew the kidnappers to the last.”

  “He did speak to them alone as a representative, but he promised clemency for surrendering the hostages. Once the Sacral Princess was secure, he had the instructors slaughter them,” Lydia said. “I’m not the only witness to that. They cursed Cyril’s name for betraying them as they died screaming.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “And the Coalition War against Count Alistair?” Theobald continued.

  “Count Alistair never ordered the canal explosion in Verne,” Lydia said. “It was something that Cyril fabricated in its totality to justify turning a tense situation into total warfare from the four great powers. There’s no denying Cyril was the most pivotal person in the war—but that’s because he was prepared for it ahead of time.”

  Theobald’s finger fell to the next. “His pioneering of dark magic.”

  “I had some small part in his work, but the bulk of his advances were outright stolen from a woman named Dinah—a commoner Student Ambassador from New Riverra. She died mysteriously on a voyage back to her homeland. A voyage that Cyril paid for. And that’s recorded.”

  “Well, he did give Dinah some credit—a dedication, on one paper of twelve.” Theobald shuffled papers.

  Lucian heard some noise, and looked over to see Duke Cyril stand and walk out quickly. It was a wonder than a man so composed at all other times could crack so easily when Lydia applied the slightest pressure. Lucian got the feeling that she wasn’t telling the full story, but… thus far, she seemed to be swaying people.

  They continued onward, going down the long list of Cyril’s accomplishments. Without fail, Lydia had some knowledge that blemished what seemed flawless. But there was one thing that seemed persistent.

  Much of it boiled down to her word against his.

  “I want to come to one event that essentially defined Duke Cyril’s fame.” Theobald held up a mark similar to the one on Lucian’s hand. “The dismantling of the Inquisition. You have a different perspective on how things proceeded, don’t you?”

  “I do,” she confirmed. “Though all of us are bound by the Concord not to reveal that information. We aren’t even allowed to discuss the reason why that information is concealed.”

  Lucian raised a brow. She had told him what happened—that Belcourt had destroyed the Inquisition that he created, and Cyril had merely taken credit for that fact.

  “Theobald, would you like to submit a request to the Concord to release that information?” the judge asked.

  “The Concord in which Cyril is currently a part of? I don’t think so,” Theobald said. “But… publicly available information discloses that Cyril himself was the one that advocated for the closure of the information. Now… why would Cyril advocate to sequester the details of his glory? Unless, of course, there’s no glory in those files at all.”

  Lucian realized what Theobald was doing. He would probably succeed in acquiring the details of the dismantling of the Inquisition if he submitted a request. By acting as though it was secret and private, it led the public to speculate about the details. What could possibly be in those top-secret files? Cyril was too image-obsessed to ever release anything that disparaged himself, so it was an excellent strategy to capture the public’s attention. Theobald was crafty.

  “Now, Lydia… much of what you’ve provided is merely circumstantial evidence, no matter how convincing. But there’s something that has direct evidence, isn’t that right?” Theobald pressed.

  “Yes,” Lydia confirmed. “Duke Cyril attempted to revitalize the Black Bloom. He’s merged the disease with his own magic to obfuscate what it truly is, but any alchemist could analyze his flesh and conclude that it’s the Black Bloom. I know because I discovered what he was doing, and… sabotaged his research equipment. Consequently, he contracted the modified disease. It wasn’t my intent, but… I felt it fitting.”

  The courtroom immediately swelled with a low undercurrent of muttering. Lucian leaned back in his chair. Lydia was the cause of Cyril’s disease? And she admitted it, even?

  “Does any evidence beyond his affliction persist?” Theobald asked loudly, silencing the court before things got out of hand.

  “Yes,” Lydia confirmed. “He has a laboratory.”

  “Is this the location of this laboratory?” Theobald asked, showing her a paper.

  Lydia read it. “Yes, it is.”

  “I’d like to request an immediate search and seizure of this location under international supervision,” Theobald said, walking up to the judge and offering the paper. “As this involves the Black Bloom, the Concord doesn’t need to be consulted. This location can be searched immediately.”

  The imperial lawyer stood up. “Judge, we haven’t yet confirmed the disease on Cyril’s person in the Black Bloom. Until that’s verified, that order cannot be carried out.”

  “Agreed,” the judge said. “That said, the Black Bloom is a very serious matter. Duke Cyril is to be subject to an examination tomorrow to determine the veracity of this claim. If proven true, I’ll immediately order this location searched,” he concluded, waving the address Theobald provided.

  Theobald gathered himself, then walked back up to Lydia. “Now, Lydia… you’ve put forth evidence of Cyril’s dishonorable character. The fabricated image he’s designed. However, it’s time to talk about his relationship with his children. Both Lucian and Cate.”

  “Yes…” Lydia lowered her head. “In talking about them, one has to go back to their birth. Even that wasn’t uncomplicated.” Lydia stayed silent a few moments. She lifted her head, scanning the crowd until her gaze fell upon Lucian. “Lucian, I… I’m sorry that you have to learn this way.”

  Lucian crossed his arms uncertainly.

  ***

  Cyril sat at his desk. Once, he thought himself a master of his emotions. Now, he disgraced himself with more than one petty outburst. Now that he arrived back to his office… his head was more disturbed, not less. Why? Because of one piece of news.

  Emperor Condar was dead.

  It wasn’t yet public information, but his people had managed to uncover this news, this earth-shattering news. It changed the situation utterly. And Cyril…

  I could go, Cyril reflected. I could go to Algard. With me on his side, he’d have clout enough to declare Denzel a wanted criminal. There’d be a civil war, no doubt, because Algard is not a popular ruler. It’d give me time—time enough to cover up enough to garner doubt, or time enough to—

  Cyril paused. What in the world was he thinking? Deliberately causing a civil war? That would destroy everything he’d tried so hard to build. That would mean he’d truly abandoned everything he stood for.

  Cyril closed his eyes, his hands trembling. Lydia. She’d lied wholesale about their childhood, made herself look like a blameless victim. She wasn’t passed over for inheritance—she gave it up, because being consort to the duke meant fewer responsibilities and more freedoms.

  Lydia wasn’t blameless. Far from it. But could he go before that court and tell the humiliating truth? No one had believed him before. Why would this time be different? It was just as it always had been.

  Cyril turned his head to look into the mirror. He stared behind himself for a long while, watching.