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I don’t want my brother in prison, wasting away without magic. I don’t want my family left without a strong heir. And honestly, I don’t want Gabriel and the Thornbers to win.

But even though I know for a fact that Bren isn’t guilty of the crime he’s actually on trial for, if he’s really planning some sort of magical massacre, I surely can’t have a hand in getting him released. Or at least not without some guarantees that he won’t do it.

Either way, I need to know.

I shake my head. I can’t believe I’ve let Gabriel put all these doubts in my mind. He’s given me zero proof of his accusations, and he freely admits he hates my family.

I take a few deep breaths and try to still my runaway thoughts. I need facts, not speculation.

I sit down in the small plastic interview chair and cross my arms. For a minute or two, I simply stare at Bren, like something in his expression or his body language might give me the reassurance I need, but it’s no good.

“I need to ask you something,” I say, eventually.

He gives an exaggerated sigh and leans back in his chair. “If the question is ‘did you kill Niall Thornber?’ then I think I’m going to scream. You might not trust me, but don’t you at least believe in your own truth-reading abilities?”

“Not that. I’ve found out the truth. Gabriel Thornber’s setting you up. He killed his own father. But there’s no way I can explain the how and why without talking about magic.”

He jolts back upwards. “I knew it was a set-up, but I still can’t believe he killed his father himself. And what was the deal with all the witnesses?”

“They all really believed they saw you. It was his bodyguard in disguise. Genuine body-switching.”

Which, come to think of it, explains Becca’s claims. It’s a relief amongst all the rest of this horror to know she wasn’t lying or working for Gabriel—I guess that means we can safely meet for a drink at some point. But bloody hell, Nikki had a nerve wandering into The Windmill and pretending to be Bren in front of some of his closest allies.

“What the hell? That’s basically impossible, everyone knows that.” He uses the sort of tone a regular person would employ to talk about most of the things we practitioners do without a second thought.

“Apparently not for him. Demon blood and all that.”

He frowns. This maybe wasn’t the best time to remind my brother of the unnatural magical strength of the man who’s determined to bring him down.

“So how did you find out? Scrying?”

“Never mind that. Is it true that you managed to expand the Dome a few months ago? That you killed people in order to do it, both then and when you tried years ago? And that you wanted to do it again, on a huge scale?”

His expression changes instantly. With me, though we might have superficial arguments, he always wears an easy smile, big brother to baby sister, even in the most trying situations. But now, he’s sporting the cold stare I remember from old family meetings, when a debtor failed to take a binding, magical bargain seriously, or an acolyte showed disrespect or disloyalty.

“Have you been talking to Gabriel-fucking-Thornber again? Taking his word over mine?”

“It’s a simple question, Bren. It doesn’t matter who put the idea in my head. Is it true, or isn’t it?”

Bren gets to his feet. “What would your reaction be if itwastrue? You were so proud when I nearly pulled it off that night you got branded. But you were a proper member of this family back then.”

Rage courses through me and the urge to unleash my power is at least as strong as anything I’ve ever felt when faced with Gabriel, but I take a deep breath.In. Hold. Release. My control’s getting stronger again.

He strides around to my side of the table and puts his bound hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry to snap at you, Sadie. I just hate that that bastard is getting inside your head. I’ll answer your questions honestly.”

I nod. “Thank you. Go on.”

Bren stares at the wall in front of us. “Yes, when I tried six years ago, there were people who died. Just like there are every Ritual night. I’m not proud of it, but they were volunteers, and at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. The aftermath and what happened to you made me realise I’d gone too far, and I’ve always regretted what I did.”

My heart constricts. Some honesty, finally. He sounds contrite, but it’s horrible to hear. “And more recently?” I force the words out.

“I’ve not attempted anything similar since, and I have no plans to do so in the future—it was a naïve teenage dream I grew out of years ago. It’d be nice to extend some of Mannith’s blessings to other towns, but not at the cost of what that would require. Besides, it pains me to say it, but I actually don’t believe I’ve got enough power to move it by more than a token amount, even if I did want to try again. Which, once again, I don’t.”

His eyes are wide open and honest. His touch is calming. His words make sense. And they’re what I want to hear. If he’d denied everything, I’d be suspicious. But his honesty about what happened in the past makes me believe he’s also being honest about the future.

And the suggestion that he physically wouldn’t be able to do it anymore—which can’t have been any easy admission for someone so proud of their exceptional powers—is particularly reassuring.

And yet he must know I’d be beyond horrified if he were planning what Gabriel claimed. He must suspect I’d take myself off the case and doom him in the process. He’s got every incentive to lie, and he’s cunning enough to know the best ways to frame an untruth in order to make it believable.