Roche watched Kai and the princess cry into each other's shoulders, their limbs tangled in a passionate embrace. Her heart ached for them both, guilt curdling her stomach.

Circe had been right about Finn. She'd been too much of a coward to act on the advice. And now... Tigris had an enemy that would apparently bring about her downfall and conspire against the peace she would bring.

Roche stumbled away from the sight. Whatever happened next, she had to protect Tigris. Finn's inkblood was strong. If she wasn't careful, his power would soon outmatch hers.

The hours seemed to pass like minutes, time flowing between her fingers like a river. Tigris was kept busy with duties that had belonged to her father and the clean up after the coup. Roche didn't arrive back at the library until well after midnight. Her head ached with fatigue, and Verita smiled at her sympathetically.

"Long day?" she asked, doling out a portion of bland Faultless stew. Roche nodded.

"The longest," she replied, sliding into her seat. Verita gazed wearily at the expanse of their chambers, at the books they'd packed inside. Most of the books required repairs and reprinting after the fire Romulus had set. Verita had been kept busy ordering new books from the few vendors that existed and repairing the ones that she could from memory.

The elder woman's memory was truly something to be envied.

"How is Tigris faring?" Verita asked, taking a bit of her own dinner. Roche shrugged.

"She's doing as well as can be expected, considering everything that has happened," she murmured despondently.

Verita arched her brow, her gaze piercing Roche's very soul. "And what happened, Roche?" When Roche opened her mouth to answer, the elder added, "I mean with Finn. I've heard Tigris' version, but somehow I think things are more complicated if you're not eating your dinner."

Roche looked down, realising that she'd just been stirring her stew instead of eating it. Her stomach lurched unhappily at the thought of food. She shoved away the bowl, unable to look Verita in the eyes.

"I... I did something horrible," she admitted quietly, the words sticking in her mouth.

Verita was patient. She waited, letting her silence press against Roche. She wasn't going to let this go. Roche's mind kept replaying the moment she'd thrown out the death curse towards Finn. She'd been fully ready to kill him, for Tigris' sake.

She nearly had killed him. She nearly forced him to die in a gruesome, horrific way. It was something so despicable, behaviour she hadn't even seen from the Council.

Oily shame sloshed within her as she slowly recounted to Verita what she'd done, how she'd tried to kill the prince and bargained his life for the death of the zombies. The story lingered in the air, and in every moment of the damning silence that came afterwards, Roche saw Finn's face, ripe with betrayal and disbelief that she'd do such a thing.

Verita leaned across the table, her eyes practically glowing with intensity. "You did what you had to do," the librarian soothed, "If you hadn't killed him, Tigris would have died. And don't forget, he tried to kill you as well."

Roche closed her eyes. "He's new to his power, he didn't know what he was doing. I've had my inkblood for ages, I should have known better. I should have done something else. Anything else! I could have used a sleep incantation-"

"Roche," Verita murmured, "You did what you had to. Tigris' life would have been forfeit if you'd been wrong."

Roche cradled her head in her hands, feeling a throbbing begin behind her eyes. "I'm scared, Verita," she admitted hoarsely, like a sinner begging for reprieve, "You didn't see him. When he realised what the incantation did... what I'd tried to do..." She sucked in a shuddery breath, replaying the exact widening of his eyes, the horror and betrayal and pure rage in his face.

Roche rubbed her face, trying to scrub away the memory. Verita waited patiently for her to croak, "He'll never forgive me. I was the last person he decided to trust, and I tried to kill him. Now he's turned against us for good."

"He'd already done that," Verita reminded her gently. Roche shook her head.

"He was uncertain before. But now... he's vowed revenge."

Verita's face was lined with pain and regret. She placed her hand over Roche's. "My dear, you did all that you could. Tigris is alive. You kept her safe. That's what matters. It was a difficult decision, and no one would fault you for your choices. Especially not me."

Roche couldn't believe the words. "I'm a monster." she said aloud. Verita's withered fingers tightened around hers.

"Never that," Verita snapped, her voice sharpening, "You were put in an impossible position. I understand that better than anyone."

Suddenly, Roche was back in the dungeons, watching the queen's death play before her. A frigid kind of realisation washed over her. She lifted her red eyes to Verita, watching the librarian go still in anticipation at the seriousness of Roche's face.

"When we were in the dungeons," Roche said slowly, watching Verita's face carefully, "Finn showed us something. He showed us the queen's death and how... how Romulus forced his brother to break the laws of inkblood use to try and save her. And how he failed because of that sin."

Verita dropped her spoon with a loud clatter, her lips trembling.

Shock stung Roche's senses. Her jaw dropped.

"It's true," Roche realised faintly, "Romulus forced his brother to break the laws of inkblood to save his wife and he blamed inkblood for the consequences?!" The last words came out as a shout. Verita looked a hundred years older as she sank in her seat. She winced.

"Yes," she admitted gently. The confirmation tore through Roche's mind, scattering all of her thoughts.

"So all of his pyres, all of the book burnings, all of what he's done... was for nothing?" she hissed, fury rising within her, "All the fear he's inspired has been for his mistake?"

Verita hesitated for a beat. Then she nodded. Roche stood so quickly that she flipped over her bench, sending books tumbling to the ground. Verita didn't move to stop her. The librarian simply watched Roche pace with devastated eyes.

"I know," Verita said, her voice choked with years of sorrow, "I know. It's unforgivable."

"No, you don't get it!" Roche snapped, "I saved his life!" Her voice trembled on the last word, and Verita's eyes widened. Roche sat on the floor heavily, her legs wobbling precariously.

"Tigris was going to kill him," she murmured the explanation. Verita's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as she added, "I stopped her. So far, she thinks Finn's words might have been lies concocted by inkblood. I knew that wasn't the case but... gods, was it all true?"

Verita rose from her seat and lowered herself to the floor beside Roche, her face grim. The elderly woman nodded, her face wrinkled with torturous despair.

"I'm sorry, child," Verita murmured, "I'm sorry for all that you have suffered today. I know that saving the king couldn't have been an easy decision after learning what he'd done."

Roche huffed a laugh. "That was the easiest part. It would have destroyed Tigris if she killed her father. She would have never forgiven herself."

Verita's face warmed with pride. "An admirable deed. You're growing into your role as Ala, Roche. You should be very proud of yourself."

Roche didn't feel proud. "I did it as her friend, not as the Ala," she replied.

"Perhaps those two things aren't as different as you think they are." Verita advised. Roche shrugged. She didn't care about the prophecy anymore. The worst of it had already happened. Finn had betrayed them all. Now... now she just cared about keeping the people she loved safe from a tragedy like this occurring ever again.

Appetite thoroughly destroyed, Roche helped Verita to her feet before trudging towards her room. Verita didn't even try to point out that Roche hadn't eaten her dinner. She let Roche go to bed.

Roche didn't even bother changing into a nightdress. She collapsed onto her bed, falling asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. Her dreams were a horrorshow of the events of the day. Throughout the chaos, a familiar voice snaked through her dream.

Ala...

The scenes swirled together like a nightmarish carnival ride. Roche distantly wondered if it was possible to vomit in a dream when everything slowly began to settle. The scene focused on a haggard looking Finn appearing in a flurry of inkblood. A large object fell from his hands, landing in the middle of the room with a wet thud.

It was the body of the Councilman. The corpse was encased in a solid, ebony layer of inkblood. Finn stared at it, his cheeks stained with tears. He collapsed to the floor, kneeling on grey tile.

Roche didn't recognise the room he was in , but it looked like some kind of dingy, underground cellar. The walls were lined with shelves of books with thick leather spines. A metal table laid in the center of the room, several large pots of ink laying haphazardly around.

Finn sucked in a breath, his sobs shuddering to a stop. Slowly, he rose to his feet, approaching the bubbling cauldron in the middle of the table.

"You will be avenged," he whispered, his eyes frigid and as sharp as jagged glass. He yanked a drawer open from the table, pulling out a packaged needle. He ripped away the ancient plastic, sticking the tip into the bubbling cauldron.

Roche felt it then. Power, raw and fierce, exploded from the cauldron. Inkblood in its purest form rippled within. Finn lifted his hand over the needle, chanting as he drew up the thick, ebony liquid up into the barrel. When it was full, he lifted it to his forearm and pressed the plunger.

Power exploded within him, so strong that Roche was nearly flattened. She tried to escape the dream, feeling the battering force of ink tearing her to shreds, but something bound her there.

Watch, Ala.

She was frozen there as Finn screamed, veins bulging from his forehead. Still, he pressed the plunger of the needle down, forcing every last drop into his veins. He leaned over to the side and vomited in apparent agony. Then he straightened, shaking, and lifted his hand back into the cauldron.

He drew up another shot of inkblood and injected it into his veins.

He did it again.

And again.

He carved new marks and poured inkblood into it, chanting between his screams of agony. When he was done, he stumbled away, trembling like a newborn fawn. Roche could only watch in horror as he leaned against one of the bookshelves bolted to the wall and yanked an ancient looking spellbook towards him.

"You will be avenged," he repeated, but not to the body on the floor. A cruel smile played across his lips as he opened the book and began to read.

Roche was vaulted from the dream so quickly that she didn't even realise she was awake until she was stumbling out of bed and into the washroom, throwing up so violently that Verita sprinted in, ready to call Leinos.

When Roche had expelled everything from her system, she turned to the horrified looking librarian and whispered,

"Gods, Verita. What has he done?"

A/N: Aaaand that's the end of another arc! We've got about 54 chapters left in the book too :O What do you all think about what Finn's done? More importantly, what did he do? As always, happy reading!