Chapter 42: Mercy

The sun was already setting when Clara arrived outside Iris’s room at the Westwick Plaza. Clara knocked on the door, and Emma opened it with a relieved smile. “My lady, Miss Clara is back!”

Iris was sitting at the table and drinking tea—the usual bergamot, based on the sweet and citrusy smell. She wore a pale dressing robe over her nightgown, and she turned to Clara as soon as she stepped inside. “What took you so long? You were only sent out to deliver a note at Claves!” Iris’s tone was one of indignation, but her puffy eyes were full of worry.

Clara clasped her hands together. The guilt that had been growing inside Clara since she walked out of Lochlann’s room intensified. After what happened to Ricardo, if Clara disappeared for hours longer than she was supposed to, of course Iris would worry.

“I’m sorry, my lady. As you can see, I’m alright. I was… delayed. The Crown Prince summoned me.”

The shift in Iris’s mood was instant. Her worry was gone, replaced by a cold fury that reminded Clara of Conrad.

“What did Lochlann want with you? How dare he summon a servant of House von Rhenia? Has the royal house truly abandoned any semblance of common sense?”

“It was about Dame Rowena. Prince Ciarán was there, too.”

Iris narrowed her eyes and turned to Emma. “You may retire. You’re no longer needed for tonight.”

Emma glanced at Clara, then dipped her head, slipped through the door, and pulled it shut behind her.

“I assume they want you to defend Rowena.”

Clara nodded. “Prince Ciarán believes Dame Rowena is innocent, despite the confession. Prince Lochlann believes that if there’s even a chance that his brother is correct, her case should be argued in court to prevent further damage to the relationship between the royal house and House von Rhenia.”

Iris took a sip of her tea. “So now they fear our retribution. As they should. Still, how presumptuous of them to think you’d even consider that. What was their reaction when you rejected them? You must tell me all about it! Sit.”

Clara braced herself as she sat down. You knew this was coming, Casewell.

“Clara? What’s wrong?”

Here we go.

“I didn’t reject him, my lady.”

“You didn’t reject him.” Iris had a tone of disbelief.

“I… I just said I would think about it,” Clara said, looking down.

“You are thinking about defending Ricardo’s killer.”

“I haven’t made any decision, my lady. I wanted to speak with you first.”

“How very thoughtful.” The words felt like a blade being pointed at her. “Need I remind you that Rowena has confessed?”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because the way you are speaking to me, as if we are discussing what to have for breakfast, I am beginning to wonder if you understand the weight of your words.”

Clara had spent the entire walk from Lochlann’s room rehearsing what she would say to Iris, which should have made her more than ready for this. In her old life, she’d faced angry executives, disappointed clients, vengeful counterparties, and yet, somehow, all of those people combined did not manage to rattle her anywhere near as much as the sixteen-year-old girl on the other side of the table.

“My lady, there are inconsistencies. The insults Dame Rowena claims Major Ricardo said. Think of his honor! And then there’s the ease with which a knight of his skill was—”

“If you think there are inconsistencies, report them.” Iris’s voice got sharper with every word she spoke. “We can even go speak to the Albion lordling, if you insist. As for Ricardo’s honor, I’m sure that will get sorted when the Blessing shows Rowena’s claims for the lies that they are. Let the inquisition do its job. It is not my maid’s responsibility to stand on the other side of this.”

“That’s precisely the point I wanted to raise with you. The court system only works if there is another side. If Dame Rowena’s guilt is as certain as it appears, then a proper defense won’t change the outcome. But if there’s something wrong, it could prevent a great injustice to both Ricardo and Rowena.”

“There is nothing wrong.” Iris rose and walked to the window, turning her back to Clara. “Ricardo is dead. His killer has confessed. And you are telling me you want to defend the woman who did it and who actively continues to slander him.”

“I’m telling you I am considering it, my lady. I believe every accused person deserves—”

“Deserves. Did Ricardo deserve to die?” Iris turned back to Clara, gripping the hem of her nightgown tightly. “Do you fancy yourself the Goddess, Clara? Or perhaps merely a Saintess? Have you received a divine mission to ensure every man, woman, and child in the Kingdom gets the fate they deserve?” Her tense voice oozed pure hurt. “You pitied Professor Morris even when the evidence was stacked against him. You pitied Marcella as she was actively manipulating you. Is your compulsion to act whenever you see something you believe is unjust simply arrogance, or is it naivety? Is this because I’ve been soft on you, like Conrad keeps saying?”

Clara thought of the look on Ciarán’s face when he’d said, ‘she’s the only person who’s always been with me’. Maybe Iris wasn’t wrong that Clara was too compassionate, too self-righteous.

“It’s not—” Clara stopped herself. Breathe. “My lady, I understand how this looks. I understand why you are angry. I know I am not the arbiter of justice, and that I can’t—and shouldn’t—try to right every wrong I see. But I’m the only one who can make a stand here. Dame Rowena deserves a defense that does not simply roll over and accept a confession as the end of the inquiry.”

“And just why is that?” Iris stared at her. “She’s nothing but a pigheaded brute sworn to a bastard. Of course she did it. And tomorrow, she will confess under the Blessing of Truth, then she will be assigned the appropriate punishment set by the laws passed by Parliament and sanctioned by the King. And if, by some miracle, she is innocent, the Blessing will prove it. What could be fairer than that? Do you know better than a process that has served the Kingdom for hundreds of years?”

Clara held her ground. “You have seen the failures of that process when it was directed at us, my lady. That is exactly why I want to be careful. If there’s something hiding underneath, Ricardo deserves the truth.”

“Except unlike poison or memory magic, a stabbing holds no great mystery. Someone thrust a blade, then someone else died. Simple.” She paused. “And if Lochlann has a problem with it, let him stand up in court as you have. Or, if he’s too cowardly to do so, let him hire a renowned professor, or call upon a senior member of Parliament aligned with the royal family, and explain why we should not take Rowena’s confession at her word. That task does not fall on my house. Not when it comes to Ricardo’s killer.”

“If I only believe in a fair defense when the accused is someone I like, then I don’t believe in it at all. My lady—”

“Don’t.” Iris held up one hand. “Don’t explain the theory to me again. I’ve heard it already. I’ve had quite enough of your mercy, Clara.”

“This isn’t about mercy. It’s about procedure. It is the difference between—”

“It is weakness,” Iris hissed.

Clara was quiet for a moment. “Is that what you think this is?”

“I think,” said Iris with authority, “that you see someone in pain and you cannot stop yourself from trying to ease it. Whether that person is Emma, or Morris, or Marcella, or Ciarán, or even myself. Even when the person in pain may have caused greater pain elsewhere. You may call it principle, but I call it inability to hold a line.”

“Hold a line? And what line is that? One you get to draw however you see fit, because you are the noble Iris von Rhenia, and whoever steps outside of it is wrong, or weak?”

“Quiet!” Iris snapped. “You said you wanted to speak with me. You have spoken to me, and my answer is a resounding no. Who are you to talk to me this way? You weren’t like this before. What happened to you, Stella?”

Clara’s blood turned to ice.

What just happened?

“My lady, what did you just call me?”

Iris didn’t answer. Her eyes were blank, and even the raindrops outside felt as though they were frozen in place.

Clara rose and grasped Iris’s hands.

And then she felt it. There was a warmth flowing into Iris from all around, like grains of sand dropping in an hourglass.

Iris blinked twice, then life—and anger—returned to her eyes. “Clara? What are you doing?”

“My lady, what did you just say?”

Iris thought for a moment. “That you didn’t use to be like this. I asked what happened to you, Clara. Though now that I think about it, you seem the same as always.”

“No, my lady, you called me Stella, froze for a few seconds, and—”

Iris pulled away from Clara’s grasp. “And just why would I do that? Are you claiming I’ve gone mad? You forget yourself.”

Does she not remember? And what was that sensation? Did Iris truly not notice anything?

“My apologies, my lady. I must have misheard.”

“Mm.” Iris looked at the fire, letting the silence stretch. The reflected crimson made her eyes look almost like her mother’s. Clara shifted uncomfortably, trying to come up with something to say, something that would prevent a terrible ending to her relationship with Iris.

It turned out arguing wasn’t so easy when you cared about the other side.

Eventually, Iris broke the silence. “If I ordered you not to defend Rowena, what would you say?”

“I would say,” Clara said carefully, “that I hear you.”

“That is not an answer.”

“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t.”

Iris sighed. “I’ve given you so much grace, Clara. Accepted your every deflection. Treated you like a friend. And yet, even now, you still can’t find it in yourself to be honest with me. You came here already decided, didn’t you?”

“I came to ask you to understand—”

“You came because you wanted me to tell you it was alright. That you should follow your principles, no matter what.” Iris’s voice was quiet.

And Clara realized the girl was right. She had already decided. She was just looking for validation.

Iris continued, “But I won’t tell you that. Because I am angry. Because I do not understand. Because you are standing in my room explaining why helping Ricardo’s killer is the right thing to do. Despite everything House von Rhenia has done for you since you left that orphanage.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut.

Clara opened her mouth. Say something.

She was a lawyer. She had argued in front of boardrooms, and now, even courts. She had stood in front of the Pope and all but called an inquisitor a liar. Clara Casewell was not someone who was struck silent.

But as Iris looked at her with reddened eyes and betrayal on her face, Clara found she had nothing.

This isn’t happening. She almost laughed at herself for thinking it. Of course this is happening. You knew this would happen. You walked in here knowing the odds made it more than likely.

“Lady Iris.” Clara started to say something, then lost it.

She thought of Stella, whose place she’d stolen. She called me Stella. This was Stella’s life, Stella’s job, Stella’s relationships. And now Clara was about to throw it all away.

“I understand, my lady.” Clara’s hands were pressed so tightly against each other that she was surprised her nails hadn’t drawn blood. “Even if you don’t support my decision, I hope you can look past this. You once said I deserved to be here, even if I did nothing. I cherish you and House von Rhenia deeply, my lady. I hope this does not come between us.”

Even as Clara spoke the words, she knew their futility. It was a pathetic, hopeless attempt to avoid the consequences of her decision. Nothing short of a miracle would stop Iris’s natural reaction to these words.

Iris looked away. “There is a difference between doing nothing and standing against me. Against my family. I cannot have you in my service if you go through with this.”

There it was.

Clara nodded very slowly.

“I’m sorry, Lady Iris.”

“Are you? Then don’t do it.”

“I meant I’m sorry that this is how it ended.”

Iris picked up a brush from her vanity, sat down, and began combing her own hair. “Leave me.”

Clara hesitated. In this moment, she hated herself. Something inside her was screaming to back down, to prostrate herself before Iris and beg her to forget this ever happened.

Clara pushed those thoughts away.

The only thing she could do now was cling to the hope that the relationship could be mended after the trial.

She curtsied. “Thank you for everything, my lady.”

Iris didn’t look at her.