“Play it again,” the Queen demanded.
She pointed to the screen. “Stop there.” Alexis paused it on a shot of the imposter’s back. I knew it wasn’t me, but looking at the image, even I had a hard time believing it. My eyes scanned the still frame again, desperate for some clue, something that would prove the impostor was not me.
My eyes jumped to the tiny mark on the shoulder of the female on the screen. “Wait! The birthmark.”
“What about it?” Alexis said.
“It’s on the wrong shoulder.” I stood and pulled my shirt to the side to show my eight-point-star birthmark on my right shoulder. In the video, the mark was on the left.
Alexis waved that away. “You could have used a glamour.”
“Give me a break,” I said. “Even if I could perform a glamour—which you know I can’t—I would have done a hell of a lot more than move my f**king birthmark to the opposite shoulder—”
The truth slammed into me like a Mack truck. My knees gave out, and I slid into the chair, my limbs shaking.
“Sabina?” Giguhl called.
“Leave her!” the Queen yelled. “Sabina, what is it?”
I couldn’t pull my gaze from the screen. To the female who looked just like me except for the reversed birthmark. The female who had the ability to perform a glamour. The truth exploded inside me like an electric shock. I closed my eyes as every remaining illusion I possessed drained from me like a rush of blood. “Fuck me.”
“Explain yourself, mixed blood,” the Queen snapped.
I opened my eyes. “I can’t do glamour spells.” I lifted a trembling finger toward the screen. They all turned skeptical gazes back to the screen and then back to me. “And my birthmark is on the right.” I swallowed hard against the tears of denial that threatened to blind me.
“That proves nothing,” the Queen said. “The damning evidence Alexis has presented combined with your notorious history of violence and your record of aggression toward both the Despina and the High Councilman…”
She trailed off as Rhea came forward, as if in a trance. My mentor’s eyes were glued to the exact same space on the picture as my own. She pointed slowly to the screen. “It can’t be,” she whispered. Her eyes moved restlessly between the image and me as her mind pulled all the pieces together. Then, suddenly, she looked at me. The same horrible conclusion I’d already come to darkened her gaze.
“Rhea?” the Queen said, her voice shrill.
She turned slowly to the Queen. “Your Benevolence, Sabina is telling the truth. She is not the culprit of any of the crimes for which she’s been accused this night.”
“Sabina,” Giguhl said, running up to me. “Is it really possible?”
I took a deep breath and grabbed his claw for support. “We need to find her.”
Alexis snorted. “What scheme are you concocting now—”
“Shut the f**k up, Alexis,” Giguhl snapped. “Sabina is not the killer.”
“Who—” the Queen began, but Rhea cut her off, completely disregarding all protocol.
“Tell them,” Rhea said to me, as if she couldn’t stomach being the one to say it out loud.
I took a deep breath, but it did little to ease the pressure building in my chest, threatening to consume me. “The real killer is my sister, Maisie Graecus.”
33
While the chaos exploded around us, Rhea, Giguhl, and I stared at each other, trying to wrap our minds around the horrible rift the revelation ripped through our lives.
I tried to piece everything together. Tried to sort through my scattered memories of the last few weeks. To look for clues I should have seen. But I couldn’t figure out what would cause Maisie to perform such uncharacteristic violence. She’d not been herself for months, but she never showed any signs that she was capable of murder. Or had she?
Obviously, she must have. No one makes such a one-eighty personality reversal without some signs. So I guess the real question was, how could I have missed something this huge?
But I knew if I allowed myself to ponder the whys, I’d never have the nerve to see this through to the end. So I sucked in a breath, shoved my feelings way deep down into the shadowy place where I kept my fears, and started barking orders.
“Alexis, you go with a few guards and make sure the grounds are secure. Rhea, we’re going to her studio.”
“Wait just a min—” the Queen began, offended that she wasn’t the one calling the shots.
“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you,” I said, my tone hard. “We’re going to find Maisie. You can punish me later.”
Rhea threw her arms around Giguhl and me. “I’ll flash us up there.”
The magic rose quickly, surrounding us in a wall of static. The last thing I saw before we flashed out was the Queen turning to tell her guards to follow us on foot. Two seconds later, we rematerialized in the hallway outside the Star Chamber.
“Be careful,” Rhea warned. “It might be warded.”
I nodded and stepped forward to test the wooden panel. But when my fingers brushed it and nothing happened, I pressed my ear to the door. Frowning, I turned to the others. “It’s quiet.”
I reached down to turn the knob but found it locked. Since this was Maisie’s private studio, she’d had a dead bolt installed to keep unwanted guests out. I’d kicked in my share of doors in the past, but I needed to be ready for anything once it burst open. Luckily, I had my very own demonic battering ram.
I turned to Giguhl. “All right, tough guy,” I said, patting him on his massive bicep. “Break it down.”
The demon smiled in anticipation and cracked the knuckles of his claws. “Stand back, ladies.” He ran at the door with his head down like a charging bull. Before I could warn him that method was a great way to dislocate his shoulder, he slammed into the wood. The frame splintered and cracked off its hinges. His momentum carried him into the room. Two seconds later a loud crash echoed into the hall, followed by a groan.
“Giguhl,” I called, running after him. I skidded to a halt when I saw the demon tangled up in pile of wood shards and canvas.
“Oops,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “Guess I underestimated my own power.”
I held out a hand to help him up, my eyes doing a quick scan of the space. Because the Star Chamber was built in one of the manor’s round towers, the room had curved walls. High above, the ceiling was painted blue with silver leaf constellations. In the center of the floor, a large worktable was scattered with paint tubes, brushes of every size, and cans of turpentine. The solvent’s sharp, penetrating odor permeated the air.