Page 40 of A Cage of Crystal

Emboldened by his approval, she addressed the council. “What most of you don’t know is that the North Tower Library was once the duke’s private study. It is full of deadly items.”

“What kinds of items?” one of Ulrich’s men asked, tone skeptical. “Knives? Swords? A guillotine?” He grinned at the councilmen across the table but none shared his amusement.

“Grimoires,” Cora said. “Poisons. Traps. You may have decided to dissociate the duke from magic, but that won’t change the things he left in that room. We must get rid of them.”

Ulrich waved a flippant hand. “So we’ll haul everything out and burn it.”

“Not everything can be burned. Besides, some things are too dangerous to be touched by those unaware of the threats the objects pose.” She was tempted to tell the truth about Lurel’s death, but it wasn’t her place. Kevan was the girl’s father, and regardless of how much Cora despised him, he was grieving. She couldn’t bring herself to illustrate the gory truth if Kevan didn’t want it known. She’d let him stick to his tale about a tumble down the stairs if that’s what he needed. So long as it didn’t prevent her from doing what needed to be done, that is.

Kevan spoke, and this time his tone was tired. Empty. “Which is why I’ve decided to keep the room locked instead.”

“Which is admirable,” Cora confessed, “but not sustainable. The only way to make that room safe is to destroy everything inside it.”

“But you just stated that the room is too dangerous,” Ulrich said.

Cora nodded. “For those unaware, yes.”

He quirked a brow. “But you are…aware?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Cora’s pulse quickened, her heart rocketing in her chest. It was time to take the conversation into more dangerous territory. Should she make one wrong move, she could undo all the work she’d done to get Dimetreus back on the throne. She could contradict all the necessary lies she’d told the inquisitors to convince them she wasn’t a witch. Maybe she should wait to ruffle feathers until after the peace pact was signed, when Verdian’s threats to seize her kingdom could no longer bear fruit.

But this couldn’t wait.

A little bit of truth. A little bit of lie. That will keep me safe.

Her words came out slow. Careful. “I’ve been trained to detect and dispose of the threats that are in that library.”

Silence fell over the table once more. She couldn’t bear to look at anyone but her brother, and when she met his eyes, she found a flash of confusion in them.

One of Ulrich’s men broke the silence. “Clarify for me, Highness, but are you talking about magic?”

Her throat felt dry as she worked out her answer, but before she could speak, Kevan’s icy tone struck her. “You told the inquisitors you harbored no magic. That you were not like those…thosepeoplewe saw during battle.”

She stiffened, knowing he was referring to the Forest People. She’d wanted so badly to keep them out of the inquisitors’ report, but the soldiers from Menah and Selay had seen them. They’d witnessed them wielding roots and vines—a stunning feat only the descendants of the Faeryn could do with their Magic of Soil, and something Cora hadn’t even known was possible until she’d seen it with her own eyes.

Every other Art Cora had witnessed before that had been quiet magic: a clairvoyant witch’s vision of a future event that came to pass, a Faeryn’s miraculous ability to track prey long since gone, a claircognizant witch’s keen knowing that something was true, a Faeryn’s gift to nourish poisoned soil and bring dead plants back to life. All things that could be easily explained away. Cora often felt that way about her own magic.

But what the Faeryn had done at Centerpointe Rock…that kind of Art was the opposite of quiet. It had been loud. Obvious. Irrefutable. And the only way to protect the Forest People had been to admit that they’d been on their side. That they’d seen Morkai as an enemy and used their magic to aid Menah and Selay.

Lord Danforth shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Are we referring to the…the vine witches?”

Sweat prickled the back of Cora’s neck. She knew it was a losing battle to try and explain what a witch truly was, that they didn’t deserve the fear and scorn they received. Instead, she confessed what might be a little easier to swallow. “The people who aided us at Centerpointe Rock—the people who kept me safe from Morkai for six years—are descendants of the Faeryn people.”

“Faeryn people,” Ulrich echoed with a laugh. “We’re talking about faeries now?”

“The Faeryn are the same as the unicorns are,” Cora said. “An ancient race that has survived extinction.”

“And can wield deadly magic,” Kevan said. He threw his hands in the air. “Why the seven devils are we talking about the library when we should be discussing how to round up these dangerous earth mages?”

Cora shot forward in her seat. “They aren’t dangerous.”

“Those who were at Centerpointe Rock will disagree.”

“They fought onourside.”