“He blamed your mother for entrapping him, but that is not the kind of woman she is. He built up this fantasy in his head where he was the only one who’d been wronged. She loved you from the moment she fell pregnant, but I know she wished she could go back and undo everything, too.”

I nod because I know that’s exactly what happened. My father played stupid games with his lover and lost. He used my mother and then blamed her for it when things veered off course.

Garnet sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Though the Withering had ravaged me almost completely, I held on, terrified of what he might do without me around. I fought against the descension as hard as I could, though I knew he was doing everything to undermine me.”

“So what happened?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “One night, he came to my room, lifted me into my wheelchair, and took me to the throne room. I don’t know what became of my guards and nurses, but I have my suspicions. I was too weak to question what he was doing, but I had enough presence of mind to ask the Torch what was happening. If it knew anything, it didn’t answer.”

He closes his eyes as the memory haunts him. I want to reach out to him, but I’m not sure he’d welcome it. I think of the way my father always reacted to any kind of affection with disdain. Lor is the only one I’ve ever felt comfortable touching without limits or fear of judgment.

“And that’s when I knew my end had come.”

“How?”

“I’ve had many years to contemplate what happened that day,” my grandfather says. “I believe he manipulated the Torch. Somehow, he found a loophole in the Artefacts’ conditions.”

“How is that possible?” But just as I say it, I suspect I already know the answer.

“He used magic I’ve never seen before,” Garnet says. “There was another voice. Someone else inside the Torch?”

“Someone else?”

My grandfather nods, his expression pinched with confusion. “It was a voice I’d never heard before. It was instructing him on what to do. I don’t really understand it all, but the voice explained how Rion needed to contain the magic from breaking free so he could claim the crown.”

As I stare at his face, I think about how my father hurt us all so much. He didn’t care about anyone but himself.

“Was the magic black and made of shadows?” I ask.

He looks at me and blinks. “How did you know that?”

“Because he’s still using it,” I say.

Garnet considers that. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Do you have any idea what it might be?”