Does free will exist?

Yes

No

Her frown deepens. She tries to turn the page, but they won't budge. The words yes and no glow, as if demanding an answer.

“Yes!” she says, after a second failed attempt. “Yes—”

*

For a moment, no one spoke.

“Father,” Ophelia began.

Emperor Reinard ignored his daughter. “This is family business.”

He walked past all of them, heading for the arched doorway where Juliana and Rufus had exited seconds before. Valerie expected him to tell her to leave. Instead, the Emperor’s head poked out, looking around, then he closed the double doors with a firm shove.

Checking for eavesdroppers, she realised. There was no trust in this household at all.

The Emperor returned to the head of the table and clasped his hands behind his back. A chandelier hung above him, his metal brooch reflecting its crystalline light.

“Discretion,” said Reinard, “is a virtue. The walls have ears. And a witch’s loose tongue may be cut from her mouth. Do you understand?”

Valerie swallowed. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

But inwardly, a rush of triumph shot through her veins. He’d let her stay.

“Obedience,” Reinard went on, “is also a virtue. One that I expect from both of my children. Would you not agree?”

Ophelia lowered her gaze. “Yes, Father.”

Avon did not. “Do make your point, Father.”

“Come here.”

Slowly, deliberately, Avon moved forward. Valerie hadn’t let go of his arm, and she kept hold of it now, walking in step with him around the table. Together, they faced the Emperor.

Reinard smiled thinly. She trembled under the Emperor’s gaze, but his wrath was not directed at her.

It was all directed at Avon.

“I granted you extraordinary responsibility in Maskamere. I sent you to purge the land of magic; you failed. I sent you to destroy the witches; you return with one on your arm. I sent you to take control—”

“And I have,” Avon interrupted him. “I have not failed—”

“No.” The Emperor’s lip curled. “No, you disobeyed. You deliberately, flagrantly, repeatedly refused to follow my direct orders. I’ve received reports of your conduct in Maskamere. The silvertree at Bolebund, unburned. Your consort, a witch. A declaration—”

“Bolebund was defeated.” Avon’s voice rang with passion. “I took control. I vanquished Maskamere, just as you asked. Forgive me if I didn’t wish to burn down the entire country doing it!”

The Emperor took another step forward, seething, but Avon did not back away. Valerie squeezed his arm, offering what reassurance she could. Ophelia was watching them with big round eyes.

“Did you think you would be allowed to act as you pleased? You declared your support for the pursuit of witchcraft.”

“You know my position—”

“And I said no! You divide us, you make the family look weak, you parade your devil whore before the entire court—”

“Lady Valerie is neither a devil nor a whore,” said Avon quietly, “and you would do well to listen to me. You cannot strip the realm of magic and reap the land as if nothing happened. The people depend on magic. They are in desperate need of modernisation. The Empire can offer them that, but it would be ridiculous to miss out on the benefits of sorcery because of some centuries-old superstition.”

“Spare me your lecture. I can save you from one foolish mistake, but this…”

The Emperor passed his hand over his eyes. No one spoke. The silence in the room hung like a weight around her neck.

She cleared her throat. “Magic isn’t bad, Your Excellency. Lord Avon knows that. We want the Empire to learn it too.”

It was the most milquetoast way of putting it she could think of, but the Emperor only snorted.

“This chance is ours to take,” said Avon. “But not if our family is divided. Support me, Father. What’s done is done, but allow me to make the argument for our long-term prosperity. I convinced the council in Maskamere. I’ll convince them here.”

“Is that your plan?” Reinard chuckled. “Then you shouldn’t have killed Emmett Gideon.”

The weight became a sense of foreboding. The coffin that had travelled with them all the way from Jairah… Lord Thorne’s presence… Lady Melody’s warning… And one name that kept coming up.

Gideon.

Her insides twisted with dread.

Avon’s expression darkened. “Gideon was a traitor.”

“Yes, I received your letter. So did others. Already his father calls for justice. You could have blamed someone, anyone else. Blame the witch. Say he fell out of a window. Anything other than claim responsibility—”

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“I claimed responsibility,” said Avon, “because I was responsible. I won’t deny it. He attempted a coup, Father—you cannot fail to grasp how serious this is. We must show our enemies that they have failed and we are untouchable.”

“Untouchable,” Reinard sneered. “The only untouchable thing in this room is that witch, who according to several hysterical reports dropped dead and then picked herself up out of her coffin as if nothing happened.”

“Well,” Valerie began, but Avon shot her a look and she shut up.

“Valerie’s resurrection is best left a rumour,” he said. “It will frighten our enemies more than it harms us.”

“Then you underestimate the harm it could do to us.” Reinard turned his glare on her. “Do you truly wish to help us, witch?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” she answered, though she had a sinking feeling that he was about to say something she wouldn’t like.

“Then take the fall. You murdered Gideon. You take the blame.”

And there it was.

“No!” said Avon at once.

Ophelia’s hands flew to her mouth. “Father!”

“I…” Valerie’s heart raced. “I did kill Gideon, but—”

“She did it because I ordered her to,” said Avon. “It makes no sense to deny it, and it’s too late anyway.”

“By our own laws she ought to burn.”

The Emperor said this without looking at her, his eyes like coal. She felt as if she’d been slapped in the face nonetheless. He was letting her hear all this—why? To scare her? To challenge his son?

This time Avon took a step forward. “Kill Valerie, and I’ll gut your wife like a fish.” His voice was deathly quiet. “I’m not the one sleeping with the enemy.”

She couldn’t breathe. These two men did not seem like father and son in this moment; they seemed about to kill each other. They stared each other down, Avon the taller of the two, younger, stronger. But Reinard’s anger radiated out, an inexorable wave, old and strong in its own way too.

If anyone else had threatened the Emperor like that, she felt sure, they would not have survived the night.

“Lady Valerie saved my life.” Ophelia stepped forward, eyes wide, hands shaking. But she continued: “Please, Father. We’re all on the same side; we should be working together. Not fighting.”

Both men glanced at her, breaking eye contact if only for a moment.

“She’s right,” said Avon. “Listen to me for once, Father. Emmett Gideon made a deal with the Maskamery prince to betray me. He brought the prince and his insurgents to the palace and ambushed us in the temple. Valerie and I stopped him. Now ask yourself why. Why would Gideon make so bold a move if he did not believe he had support here in Drakon? Who is sharpening the knife behind your back?”

The Emperor’s eyes flashed. “You have made us vulnerable. You will make amends. Cast off these foolish notions of magic before we are all accused of witchcraft.”

“You speak from fear.” Avon’s voice dripped with disdain. “Your cowardice will cost us everything we have built. I will make a future for our family—kicking and screaming if I must. If you cannot find it in your heart to support me, at least do me the courtesy of not standing in my way. Ophelia, Valerie, come.”

He beckoned to his sister, who rose to her feet and took his other arm. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Avon gave a short bow. “Good night, Father.”

Reinard did not reply, but his face was like thunder.

*

They retreated back to Avon’s quarters, where he collapsed into an armchair. “Someone please fetch me a drink.”

Ophelia obliged. Valerie looked around. Already papers had piled up on Avon’s desk. Did he ever stop working? He stared off into the middle distance, resting his hand on his chin. She knew that look. His mind was furiously recalibrating, which meant that his father had been more hostile than expected.

Valerie knelt down beside him. “Was that a normal family meeting?”

She’d had her share of arguments with the Crescents, but nothing like that. Her heart was still pounding.

“It was one of the worst I’ve seen,” said Ophelia in a small voice, returning with a glass of whisky. “James, you cannot truly mean to continue without Father’s support?”

Avon blinked at her. “What’s the alternative? If I back down now, Valerie will burn, and my efforts will have been for nothing. My position is no more tenable.”

“Can you?” Valerie asked. “Continue without him?”

Avon drained his glass in one and put it down on the sideboard. “I need both of you with me.”

“Of course!” said Ophelia.

“Of course, my lord,” she agreed. Avon had defended her life; the Emperor had threatened to burn her. The choice was clear.

“Then we fight the good fight.” Avon laid a hand on his sister’s arm. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Valerie echoed. “For speaking up.”

She was grateful, truly. Especially to Ophelia. Avon might have a ulterior motive for everything he did, but his sister didn’t. She had defended Valerie out of the goodness of her heart, and Valerie didn’t imagine that she’d find such goodness anywhere else in the capital.

They bid Ophelia good night, Valerie assuring her friend that she would join her soon. The night drew on. Valerie rearranged her skirt, sitting with her limbs tucked beneath her on the floor.

When she looked up to Avon staring at her, she felt suddenly quite self-conscious.

“I was going to be angry with you,” he said. “But I see now it made no difference. Father’s mind was already made up.”

“It was a test, you know. Letting me be there.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s the kind of thing you’d do.”

“Ah.” Avon smiled. “Divine forbid I become like my father.”

“You’re not like him, not really. I mean, you like me. Your father…” She grimaced. “How do I get him to change his mind about me?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?”

She waved a hand. “Be charming isn’t enough. I need specifics.”

“I wish I could tell you,” said Avon, “but I’m afraid I don’t know either.”

She stared at him. Valerie had been thinking of the Emperor as her enemy, not Avon’s. He was meant to be a bridge between them.

But there was no bridge. Perhaps fathers and sons in Drakon didn’t get on like mothers and daughters in Maskamere. She didn’t know. Still, it seemed sad. Avon had fought battles for this man. Invaded realms, slaughtered innocents. But Reinard saw only a disobedient son.

“All he talked about was destroying us,” she said. “You know, all we wanted was to be left alone. We never did anything to you. Why does he hate us so much?”

“We don’t hate you. You know that.”

“But…”

“The Empire destroys that which it perceives as a threat. You were right to offer your help to my father. That is how he needs to see you. Clearly, that’s going to take some time.”

And until that time, the noose was practically around her neck. Or rather, kindling for the pyre.

“Would you really kill Juliana if he kills me?”

She didn’t know how to feel about it. Part of her, selfishly, enjoyed that he’d stood up for her no matter what that entailed. But the woman was with child.

“If necessary,” said Avon. “It’s no coincidence that Emmett Gideon became so bold when he did. We had better hope that child is not a boy. If it is, I expect an attempt on my life to follow shortly.”

“What? Why?”

“Lady Juliana is a Gideon. Your Lord Gideon’s niece, to be precise. Treat her as you would a spy.”

Valerie gaped at him. Juliana, a Gideon. No wonder the woman had stared daggers at her. And the Emperor had married her… She was carrying his child, Avon’s half-sibling…

“They’d get rid of you so that… so that Juliana’s son is first in line? But what about Edrick?”

“Edrick would not survive such a plot,” said Avon. “The seat of the Emperor is not mine to inherit, you understand. It’s elected like every other position. But I do stand to inherit my father’s estate. And if the Avon family were to fall under the influence of the Gideons… Well, that would bring to an end a long-standing rivalry.”

“But we killed Lord Gideon.” She was just now beginning to appreciate how significant that might be.

“Yes,” said Avon. “We killed Lord Gideon.”

“I don’t understand. What is your father doing? He married Lady Juliana.”

“Yes, I’m quite irritated about that too.”

She had thought that she might have the measure of Emperor Reinard, but this revelation changed everything. There was the old adage of keeping your enemies closer, and then there was marrying one of them and fathering her child in a society where inheritance passed through the man. Reinard had potentially jeopardised the future of his own firstborn son, all because he couldn’t keep his dick to himself.

Why?

Valerie shifted. “Why won’t he support you? Does he despise magic that much?”

“No,” said Avon. “He’s afraid of the Patriarch.”