“I was the first Cavendish mage in two generations. He told me there was no shame in what I’d done. That it was a blessing from God. That I was destined to restore our family’s lost honor. It was then I realized I had a duty to the world. If I made a name for myself in the war effort, I could regain my family’s title and its position in the magisterium—and only kill those who deserved it. I was so determined to be useful, I think part of me lies buried with my first victim.”

And what remained was the Reaper of Vesria.

“Immediately, my superiors noticed me. I worked hard. I formed no attachments. I was single-minded. Exactly the monster you believed me to be, fed by the promotions, their praise, the promise of political power.” He paused. “But my victims haunted me. I had to look into their eyes to kill them. I can’t forget a single one of them.”

She shivered, despite the warmth beneath the covers.

“Over time, I could not shake the growing suspicion that this war was wrong. That I was wrong. They told us we were defending our way of life. They told us we were saving you from yourselves.” Shame clouded his expression. “You saw me at my blackest moment. By then, I had realized everything I stood for was a lie, even if my superiors believed what they were saying was true. If the war were truly about protecting Vesria, why did they order me to kill healers and civilians? Even some of your soldiers were hardly older than twelve. What harm could they have done us?”

Wren reached for his hand. This time, he did not pull away.

Hal stared somewhere far beyond her, his eyes as black as the deepest water. “That war protected no one. It was a massacre.”

“All of us followed orders. Our superiors told us the same things about you.” Wren’s voice came out wrong, weak. “What else were we supposed to do? We were too young to know better. We all saw what happened to deserters.”

“Don’t absolve me.” He drew an unsteady breath. “My life has been a series of regrets. But before I die, before I accept punishment for what I’ve done, I’ll make restitution to Danu. I’ll end this war. And I’ll rebuild Vesria into the kind of place where children grow up happy, not as soldiers. The only way I can do that is by becoming the grand magistrate—and by solving this case.”

“Hal…”

She did not know what to say. What he told her excused nothing, but Wren could see so clearly the circumstances that had shaped him: loneliness, desperation, trauma. Just like her, Hal had believed his magic was all he had to offer. Her compassion frightened her. He was still a war criminal. The people he killed were never coming back.