Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 879: Excuse for Betrayal

Why had Dott Somi mentioned the riot?

Nightingale knew the event. Years ago, a mine accident had killed hundreds of laborers. The owner had indemnified the freemen and refused to acknowledge the refugee workers, and that indifference had ignited something — fury spreading from the grieving families to the streets, refugees pouring out of the mining district in a wave of looting and wreckage before the king’s city knightage arrived to restore order. A terrible thing, and not forgotten.

That was the last time she had seen her parents alive. She and Hyde had been escorted back to the old Gilen mansion, and it was there they were told. An accident. A riot. The kind of disaster that swallowed ordinary people whole and left no one to answer for it.

But Somi’s words had not sounded like a man describing an accident.

Nightingale slipped out of the room quietly and descended to the basement. She activated the Sigil of Listening she had carried in her coat.

The Sigil was meant for one purpose: to let Roland recall her immediately if the situation at camp deteriorated. She had not expected to use it like this.

“That does sound strange.” Roland’s voice came through the connection — measured, attentive. “You want to stay at the mansion longer?”

“Yes. I want to speak to Hyde tonight. He might know something.” A brief silence. Then, quietly: “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He cut her off gently. “Stay as long as you need. I’ll remain inside the camp — I won’t be breaking my promise. Take care of yourself. Don’t do anything rash. And report back every four hours, whatever you find.”

The warmth of it moved through her before she was ready for it. She was silent a moment. “Yes. I understand.”

The moon had slanted past the skylight’s upper edge and begun its slow fade — a quarter past midnight, by the angle of the light. The hour when a vigil guard’s attention was most likely to drift.

Nightingale left the cellar for the first floor.

Hyde’s room was near the backyard, the kind of position given to servants or to guests who weren’t expected to stay. Its location confirmed everything the two guards had implied: whatever the viscount said in public about his generosity to the Gilen heir, Hyde was not regarded as a true member of this household. The entire hall and connecting passage were unguarded, which gave her more room than she needed.

She entered the bedroom and hauled her brother upright before he had finished waking. The moment of confusion was brief — then the dagger was cold against his throat, and confusion sharpened into absolute stillness.

“Any screaming ends this conversation before it starts.” Her voice barely above a breath. “Are we clear?”

Hyde nodded.

“Then turn around. Look at me.”

He obeyed. In the low light, his pupils stretched wide. He controlled the noise that rose in his throat — just barely.

Nightingale withdrew the dagger once she was sure he had steadied.

“Why—” His voice shook. “Why are you here? I thought you died years ago.”

The words landed like a key in a lock she hadn’t known was still there. For a moment she was back in the old mansion, and everything she had learned since meant nothing — just the old wound, raw again. This was the face that had given her over to strangers. This was the voice that had decided she wasn’t worth protecting.

She bit down on the inside of her tongue. The copper taste brought her back.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because — because Timothy’s men searched the king’s city and every town around it. He announced that all the witches had been executed.” Hyde swallowed. “I was shocked when I heard. I didn’t want you to die. I thought — if you’d left of your own will, you might have been safe. Maybe you weren’t persecuted.”

The second half of that was a lie. The tremor of her ability told her so, clean and unmistakable.

“What is your arrangement with Viscount Dott Somi?”

“Well—” A fractional pause. “After old Gilen died, there were disputes within the family. I didn’t understand the details at the time, but by the time I was ready to inherit, there was almost nothing left in the household accounts. That was when the viscount came to call. He didn’t leave me much choice.”

Lie.

“Did he force you to join the Somi household?”

“Yes. He said if I refused, he’d have me removed.”

Lie.

“Then what are you doing for him?” she asked, her tone light, almost incurious. “Distributing food to peasants?”

“No.” Hyde set his teeth. “He’s using me to sell Dreamland Water. The so-called peasants are Rats picking up orders in disguise. I only found out recently.”

The first part was true. The second part was not.

Nightingale noticed, somewhere in herself, that she was not angry. She was almost relieved. This was the familiar texture of her working life — lies and truth threaded together, people instinctively protecting themselves against an uncertain listener. She had been doing this for years: assembling the real shape of things from the negative space between deceptions, staying level while she worked.

What unsettled her about Roland, sometimes, was the absence of that pattern. He rarely lied to her at all.

But that was another thought for another time.

The Shadow Killer was back now.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Hyde went to the floor. Not a small, gradual lowering — a full, sudden prostration, his forehead nearly touching the boards.

“Please help me, sister.” His voice had a desperate quality that she recognized as genuine. “I know I was wrong — but I’m still your brother. The viscount doesn’t see me as a real noble. You’ve seen this room. The renovation of the mansion is theater for the public. If I stay here much longer, he’ll find a reason to dispose of me.”

“You want me to help you leave?”

“Leave?” His head came up sharply. “If I leave, I lose everything.” He pressed his palms flat on the floor and enunciated each word with a terrible care. “You killed old Gilen, didn’t you? I don’t know how — but you got in here without anyone seeing you, so you can get into his room too. Kill him, sister. Once he’s dead I have a path into the Somi family. After that—” his voice dropped, something ugly beneath the desperation— “after that, kill the other heirs one by one. When it’s done, the domain will be mine. All of it. The lands, the property.”

Nightingale held his gaze.

Hyde could not sustain the silence. “Before I answer anything else,” she said, at last, “tell me this.”

“Yes—”

“Why did you betray me?” Each word landed with the weight she intended. “Back then. Why?”

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