Page 120 of A Weave of Lies
Semras watched these last pieces of paper with her mouth hanging.
She understood now. The truth lay bare before her eyes, as improbable as it seemed. A curt laugh escaped her. Nimue had told her that improbable didn’t mean impossible. She was right.
Inquisitor Estevan Velten claimed to be the murderer of his mentor, Tribunal Eloy Torqedan, but the timeline didn’t add up. He had almost no time to meet with his mentor before his death. The Anderas Mountains were a month of travel to the northeast; after being away for so long, it seemed improbable he’d have jumped straight out of his carriage and into plotting a premeditated murder.
And he had secretly consulted a witch on the cause of death and the poison’s origin. As the murderer, Velten should have already known about that. Still, he had risked the disapproval of the Inquisition to obtain such information.
These weren’t the actions of a murderer seeking a scapegoat for his crime, but … if she discarded all the preconceived notions that had poisoned her perception until now, just like she had to do during the gin’s analysis …
Semras set two of the papers aside, pushing ‘Velten confessed to the murder of Torqedan’and‘Plans to frame a witch for his crime’out of sight to the edge of the desk. And there it was. The truth.
Velten hadn’t murdered his mentor. The lying bastard was covering for the true culprit: a witch.
Just as she had first discovered, so many days ago in that room suffocating with death and decay.
Semras tapped the pen on the papers again. Flecks of ink flew off its tip to splatter the desk. She stared at the dull, matte shine of the spots forlornly.
It was senseless. All of it was.
Who didn’t matter as much as why—why would a witch kill an old man already at the dusk of his life? While his reputation among the Vandalesian Covens was less than stellar, her kin knew better than to take revenge years after the offence. Killing a harmless, retired inquisitor now would only remind the Deprived of how dangerous her people could be, so the death of Torqedan at the hands of a witch would only give cause to—
Her blood turned to ice.
—to start a new witch purge.
In his efforts to lessen the mistrust toward her kin, Tribunal Torqedan had made it known to all of Castereina that he took a witch’s remedy to treat his ailments—and now, that same remedy had killed him. As soon as this became public knowledge, a wave of hysteria-driven persecutions would sweep through the entire peninsula.
And Velten knew that. He had warned her about it the first day they met.
All along, he had wanted Semras to escape him and reveal his false murder confession to the world, trying to avoid a war between their people by taking the blame for it. That was why he had wanted to know how he could procure prickly comfrey on his own: he needed it for the false confession he’d give the Inquisition once she’d have turned him in.
The idiotic martyr had plotted for her to be his executioner.
Semras gritted her teeth. “You absolute piece of—”
A deep breath calmed her down. Now wasn’t the time for retribution. There was a dead body filled with witch poison about to start a war nobody wanted.
Except the one who did. The one who’d benefit the most from a new purge. Someone from the Inquisition, who didn’t appreciate its dwindling numbers and fading relevancy. Someone who had a clear vision of what it should be—and who should be part of it.
The true killer: Inquisitor Cael Callum.
The very man who professed to her that witches did not belong to the current era, who had been present during the time of death, and who had both the cunning and the strength of the Fey to carry out his murderous ploy.
Eyes now cleared of lies, Semras could see how all the pieces fitted together.
Callum had been working for years on purging the Inquisition of the witch sympathizers who could oppose his plan. He had attempted for a long time to have Velten discharged from the institution, and now, he had murdered the only tribunal supporting her kin’s rights.
It all made sense now that Semras knew Inquisitor Callum was a Seelie. These fey would rip the world apart if it meant its broken pieces would better fit their vision.
And he was achangelingSeelie. Shudders ran down her spine. She couldn’t imagine a worse combination—the half-fey would be a tough opponent to stop.
She should have realized all this earlier when Callum had wanted her to tell him all the details of Velten’s investigation. Clearly, he had wanted to know if his plan had deceived his colleague.
And soon, Velten would know they had talked in private—if he didn’t already—and think she had revealed the murder confession to him. The bastard would now be expecting Inquisitor Callum’s forces to come take him away at any moment, just as he had planned.
Semras groaned. If she had lied about the poison, none of this would have happened.Sheconfirmed Velten’s fears.Shemade him the villain she had always, deep down, expected him to turn into.
And the self-sacrificing bastard had chosen to become one to save them all from war.
