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“Your magic’s doing nothing,” I whisper. “I doubt anyone could heal this. But I can reverse the spell.”

One of the women frowns. “You’d turn it back on yourself? That would be suicide.”

“No. But if you were willing, I could draw it back from him and turn a little on each of you. Divided that many ways, it’d be like a bad case of sunburn each.”

It’d be the most complex bit of magic I’d ever attempted. It’d involve them putting a high degree of trust in someone who just attempted to kill their beloved boss. And it’s utterly insane for me to risk myself trying to save him, when I let Connor die so I could kill him. But I did it to protect the Dome, and however well he heals, he won’t be in a fit state to attack it again for months—by which point, if all goes to plan, I’ll have got Bren out and he’ll be able to protect it.

Or enlarge it, with all that entails, a disloyal part of my mind whispers. I push the unwelcome thought back down and focus on the situation at hand.

Both those without the blood and Born Practitioners of the less impressive sort sometimes act like it’s necessary to learn every new piece of magic from scratch. They’re like your grandad using a computer. Needing to be talked through each individual programme and each update step by step. Whereas those who’ve grown up with technology understand the underlying principles. Right clicking in one app is much the same as doing it in another. It’s the same with magic. Since I was a child, I’ve learnt the basic ideas of opening programmes, saving files, and copying and pasting—so to speak. So, though I’ve never reversed a spell, and certainly never divided it between tens of people as I turn it back, the idea of how to do so is entirely intuitive to me.

“You’re going to need to take off my handcuffs,” I say.

The gathered fans converse amongst themselves, then someone makes a phone call.

Nikki stumbles in. Outwardly, she’s a little calmer than most of the others—no wailing or hysterical tears for her. But she’s walking in a daze as though she’s hit her head, and her eyes are so red-rimmed from private tears she almost looks like a Born Practitioner.

Those eyes settle on me and widen. She walks over on trembling legs, grabs my arm, and with a pointed look at the others, drags me aside.

“How could you do it, Sadie? I know you felt the same way he did about you, deep down.”

I close my eyes. “You’re the one who told me to be careful.”

“I told you not to marry him. I didn’t tell you to murder him!” She manages the world’s most unconvincing laugh.

“He was going to kill me. Either directly or by bringing the Dome down.”

She tightens her grip. The rest of the room are watching and trying to hide that fact. “He would never have hurt you. He’d have found a way to get you out of harm’s way before striking the final blow.”

“He was happy enough to kill his own father. Whatever feelings he might have had for me, he clearly has no compunction about hurting those he claims to love.”

“His mother made him swear to kill his father, in order to avenge her. She made him swear to a lot of things. He’d been psyching himself up to do it for years, but for all his usual ruthlessness, he could never quite put his qualms to one side.”

“And what, he finally found his nerve when he realised he could use it as a way of getting at my brother?”

“That helped. As did the fact Niall wanted to send me away from Mannith—he didn’t like a Taught Practitioner being that close to his pedigree heir. But what tipped Gabriel over the edge was when Niall decided to send assassins after you.”

“After me? What on earth? I was in London. No trouble to anyone.”

Nikki stares at the far wall and keeps her voice calm through sheer force of will. She sounds like she’s reading out an email.

“Niall was plotting a grand dynastic marriage for Gabriel with one of the daughters of the Cornish Enclave. Consolidate the family power, keep the grand breeding programme going, take over the town—and probably put the new daughter-in-law in Maeve’s old blocking bracelets if she started getting ideas above her station.”

“And I presume Gabriel wasn’t a fan of this idea?”

This time, Nikki can’t quite keep up the act. There’s fury in her voice. “There was no way he was going to agree to marry anyone but you. So Niall decided to remove that obstacle. And Gabriel killed him before he could do so. Because he may always have at least two reasons for everything, but the one thing he’s always put over every other rational consideration is Ms Sadie Sadler.

“So, for all his grand claims, he wouldn’t have brought the Dome down if it meant killing you. But you were perfectly happy to try to kill him.”

I close my eyes. Just when I thought my conflicted emotions had surely taken everything the world could possibly throw at them, here comes yet more revelations to make me feel worse about what I’ve done.

I believe Nikki about the circumstances surrounding Niall’s death. It makes it harder to hate, blame or fear Gabriel for what he did, if it was partially in defence of me. But it’s yet more proof of just how deep his obsession goes. And that’s arguably even scarier.

I place a hand on Nikki’s arm. “I’m going to heal him.” Words are my currency, but right now, I can’t manage any response more complex than that.

Nikki scowls and jerks away from me. “I’m not letting you touch him.”

“It’s the only way.”