“They shouldn’t have to defend you at all,” said James, catching at Thomas’s free hands. He could see the dark shadow of Thomas’s compass rose tattoo where it showed through the sleeve of his shirt. It was supposed to lead Thomas to love and safety, James thought bitterly; in this case, it had failed. “This is ridiculous—”

“Thomas,” said Christopher, with uncharacteristic firmness. “Tell us what happened.”

Thomas made a sort of dry gasping noise. His hands were ice-cold. “You’ll think I’m mad. Or a secret killer—”

“I should remind you,” said James, “that yesterday, I thought I was a secret killer, and you told me that was ludicrous. And now I’m telling you that you, out of all of us, are least likely to be a secret killer.”

“I, on the other hand, am the most likely to be a secret killer,” said Matthew, throwing himself into one of the chairs. “I wear peculiar clothes. I come and go as I please and do mysterious, illicit things in the night. None of the rest of you are like that at all. Well, Christopher might kill someone, but he wouldn’t mean to. It would be an accident resulting from an experiment gone horribly wrong.”

Thomas let out a shuddering breath. “I know,” he said, “with crystal clarity, that I did not harm Lilian Highsmith. But Bridgestock and his cronies are acting as though they believe I did—they believed it immediately. Nothing I said made any difference. And these are people I’ve known my whole life.”

James chafed Thomas’s hands between his, getting the blood flowing. “Tom, what did happen?”

“I—I was walking through Golden Square when I heard someone scream. I ran toward the sound and saw the body lying there, and I turned her over so I could see her face and… and it was Lilian, barely alive. There was no sign of the murderer. I tried…” Thomas put his hands over his face. “I tried to heal her but I couldn’t; she was too close to death. And then the next thing I knew, I heard shouting and then the Inquisitor and some others were standing over me. I was covered in Lilian’s blood by then…”

“Did you see anything?” said James, sitting back on his heels. “Anyone else, someone running away?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Did Lilian see her killer?”

“I asked her who attacked her.” Thomas’s hazel eyes burned with frustration. “She said something like ‘He did it. He was dead in his prime. His wife wept for him.’ None of which makes sense.”

“You think she recognized her killer as someone who was already dead?” echoed Matthew, looking puzzled.