The ties binding my hands parted with a jerk. I breathed a silent note of thanks to my former partner and stepped forward, raising my voice to echo through the room.
“Before you do that,” I announced, and the Patriarch whirled around, eyes widening when he saw that I was free, “and while we’re on the subject of confessions, perhaps there is something you should explain to the rest of the assembly, sir.” I reached into my jacket and pulled out the envelope, holding it aloft like a torch. “Perhaps you should explain your partnership with Talon, and the dragons, for the past year and a half.”
Instant pandemonium. Behind me, the room exploded in a cacophony of noise and outrage. Men were on their feet, shouting, calling for my head, demanding answers. One of the guards who’d escorted us in went for me, raising his gun. But Tristan silently stepped between us, a warning look in his eyes, and the guard stumbled to a halt, unsure what to do.
Through all of this, the Patriarch didn’t move. He stared at me, his expression calm. Finally, he raised a hand, and the noise gradually died down.
“They are quite desperate now, aren’t they?” he stated, shaking his head, as if this whole thing was ridiculous beyond measure. “Did the dragons put you up to this, soldier? Send one of our own to infiltrate the Order and break it from within? They should know by now, we are far too strong for such deception. St. George will never fall to the machinations of dragons.”
“That might be true, sir,” I replied, “if not for the fact that I have evidence of your treachery right here.” Turning my back on him, I faced the angry room, holding up the envelope. “Proof of the Patriarch’s involvement!” I called, as the room began to erupt again. “Bank statements, photos of secret meetings, recordings of conversations between Richard Amitage and an agent of Talon. The Patriarch has been accepting money from the organization for over a year!”
“Shoot the traitor!” came a voice from the back, impossible to see who it was in the chaos. I held my breath, half expecting a gunshot to ring out to end the tirade and my life. But Tristan, shockingly, stepped forward, putting himself between me and the throng starting to push forward.
“He’s telling the truth!” Tristan shouted, making the first row pause a moment. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes! This isn’t a lie! The evidence is real.” He faltered, taking a breath, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying himself. “Sebastian speaks the truth,” he said at last, his voice slightly choked. “The Patriarch...is working with Talon.”
“Hold.”
The ranks parted, and Lieutenant Gabriel Martin stepped to the edge of the circle, his face grim as he faced us. “I know both these boys,” he told the crowd, his steely expression freezing them in place. “St. Anthony is one of mine, as was Sebastian. He is...or rather, was...one of the best soldiers I’ve ever seen. Neither is prone to exaggeration or flights of fancy. Sebastian is a traitor to the Order, and I despise what he has become.” I felt an almost physical blow as he said this, my stomach clenching in pain as Martin looked at me, black eyes glinting with contempt.
“But,” Martin went on, holding my gaze, “if there’s one thing Sebastian is not, it’s a liar. Even in matters as troubling as this.”
“Lieutenant,” said the Patriarch, his voice full of quiet menace. “Are you saying you would believe a traitor and a dragon convert over your own Patriarch? This boy who has betrayed us all, who has been helping our enemies slaughter and destroy more of our own?”
“No, Patriarch,” Martin replied, bowing his head. “But I am concerned with the truth. In whatever form it comes to me. Given the nature of these claims, we must consider all sides. If the boy is lying, I will put the bullet in him myself. And I will accept whatever discipline you choose to bestow upon me for my doubt.” His jaw tightened as he turned, staring me down. “These are serious accusations, soldier,” he said, a warning and a threat. “Are you prepared to back them up, knowing the repercussions if you cannot?”
“Yes, sir.”
He held out a calloused, burn-scarred hand, and I gave him the envelope without hesitation. The sharp sound of the flap being torn open echoed like a gunshot in the deathly quiet of the room. I backed up with Tristan as several other officers crowded in, gazing over Martin’s shoulder as he pulled out the contents of the envelope. It was out of my hands now. I had done everything I could. Now, it was up to St. George itself to decide the fate of its Patriarch.