The records chamber was colder than I remembered Blackthorn being. Not physically.

The room itself was warm enough. A fire burned behind an iron grate, and the shelves smelled of paper, dust, wax, and old leather. It was the labels that made me cold. POISONING. SEVERIN

Eli's testimony began with a bottle. Not poison. Not Camille. A bottle. That distinction mattered.

We moved from the records chamber to a smaller room across the hall. Marin sat at the table with a neutral recorder from Northlake. Isolde stayed behind me. Lucian did no

By the time I entered Blackthorn's great hall that afternoon, Elder Alaric was already standing in the place where I had once been accused. He had aged less than I wanted him to.

Same iron-gray hair. Same narrow mouth. Same expression of patient disappointment, as if e