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Nora giggles, expression brightening when she meets my gaze. We’ve done this weekly breakfast for the last decade, since we both graduated the Guild’s academy. I tried to end it when I left the Guild, for her safety, but she refused. She might be better friends with Astoria than me nowadays, but we’ll always have breakfast together when our work allows it.

I reach for her hand and squeeze. She squeezes back. In a hushed tone, she adds, “Please, Lucas. Keep your head down. That goes for Aster too. I’m too fond of both of you.”

Our hands release, and she plucks her bag up. Her shield shimmers into place and she slides her wand back into her twist. I take my own bag and head out towards Peripetia. I pause, scanning the streets. Two men slip into the shadows and my eyes meet theirs for the briefest of moments. My lip curls, and I do not move until they have fully retreated. Dimitar’s spies again. I’ll need to make an example of them to get Dimitar to stop sending them after me. Later, though. Tori is waiting for me, and my magic wraps around the bag to ensure her bear claw stays warm and safe from the elements.

CHAPTER 7

MONUMENT PARK, PROTECTED LAND, DELORNIA

ASTORIA

The view from Monument Park allows me to see the wreckage from the weather within the human territories. Ominous storms billow over the Astrum Forest to tumble down the foothills to the harbor, colliding and warring as if magic itself is enraged. I’m sure the Archweaver is twisting the Weaver-War-induced turbulent weather to his advantage and declaring it an insult to the Tapestry to rise against him. After all, the first and second rules of magic demand that the Tapestry must be protected at all costs.

The last time weavers turned on each other on such a large scale was when the priesthood was purged and the history books didn’t bother mentioning how the helpless humans survived the resulting magical chaos. All they noted were the various wards that can protect the four weaver domains from it. Clearly, two thousand years hasn’t changed the Order’s view of the worth of human life.

I’m surprised that the clashes of magic throughout the forest are powerful enough to cause this large of a disturbance to the atmosphere. Perhaps Vincentius’ allies don’t know of his death yet.

What if I’d hallucinated the signet ring, and Vincentius is well and alive?

My stomach twists, and my hands tighten to stop the trembling. Lucas was right about one thing. Using this platform to reach the Bauer estate is a convenient, covert way to hide my visit. All I need to do is add the right sigil to the carved stone, and I’ll gain access through the Bauer wards. Once I sneak through, the chalk will dust away without a trace so no one could follow me. Then I’ll be able to know for sure what has happened with Vincentius. Then I can quietly make sure Valen is safe and quickly sneak out again.

And yet, I don’t reach for the chalk in my pocket. The fear of facing Valen surges so powerfully that I wrap my arms tightly around myself. I’m not ready yet. I just need a few more minutes. With a deep breath, I turn from the platform and walk away.

The misty, partially frozen grass crunches under my finely made boots as I trek up the large hill the park is built on. My thick wool coat keeps me warm, its tall collar flipped up to keep the magical storm’s icy wind from my face. Beneath it is a crisp button-up shirt that matches my black, well-fitted slacks. A red velvet vest with intricate embroidery fits my ribs like a glove, the onyx buttons glinting in the morning light.

I’ve made my hair short and smoothed it back, allowing a few strands to brush my brow. My green eyes glow with magic, the coal liner around them emphasizing their emerald hue, and I’ve stained my lips with rouge to accentuate their fullness.

It doesn’t feel like a mask that I hide behind, but an embodiment of my most authentic version of myself, both Aster and Astoria melded into one. The rightness of it keeps my chin up and my shoulders back.

Leaving my loft was the correct choice. I needed the air and freedom after six long months of fear and hiding. It reminds me that I’ve faced worse, done the impossible, and I’ve come out alive. Every time. The night before tried to strip that knowledge from me.

Corrupted or not, I will find a way through this. I will not succumb to fear and curl up in defeat to await a horrific end, either in a weaver oubliette or Magistrate prison. It’s not my style.

I step up onto the polished slate floor of the central monument and follow the bronze path to the center of the compass, where my great-grandmother stands in her marble form. The artist captured her so perfectly, I can almost see the green Androclaria eyes attempting to burn their way into this world. She points towards Havenport in her fierce, threatening way.

I take a slow breath, letting the unseasonably crisp air settle my rising nerves. There’s a kind of comfort in beholding the strength of a woman who fought a bloody war that nearly destroyed all weavers and won. She is considered one of the greatest Archweavers to ever rule, and her passing was felt deeply by all those who resided within the forest.

And she chose to save me. She created a fork within the Archweaver line in order to name a new Heir, even though her child was her successor in history. Someone as powerful and wise as Antonia choosing to change the Tapestry must mean something. My mother’s proclamations that I was destined for greatness must mean something. Aunt Viola’s belief that I would change the Order must mean something.

My breath trembles, and I swallow down the building pressure within my throat. I close my eyes and offer a desperate plea to the Tapestry. Please, let it not be a series of poor choices. Tears fill my lashes, and my lips press together to hold them back. Let me be worthy of their belief in me.

But nothing responds. Of course it wouldn’t. There is no communing with stone.

The fresh air is nice, but the detour is feeling like a giant waste of time. At least I didn’t give in and bring Lucas. He’s already seen me break enough. There’s no reason for him to continue witnessing my weakness.

My eyes open, and not a single tear falls. Rightness and determination settle over me as I make up my mind. I’m going to face Valen. He needs to know, and perhaps he could help me with my corruption. If not, then at least he can kill me before I hurt Lucas, and he can claim his new title and put his father to rest.

I behold Antonia’s statue one last time before leaving to travel to the Bauer estate. It really is a pity they didn’t chisel out Leon’s decapitated head. The creator of the magician tokens and mass murderer of my kind deserves nothing less than to be remembered in such a way.

The wind howls, kicking up my coat to whip around my legs. My jacket’s high collar tickles my chin, and I brace my body against the strong gust. Then it settles, and a man’s shadow is beside mine.

Like a rabbit frozen in place, I don’t move. My heart hammers in my ears, my eyes cold from the wind and unshed tears. Is my mind playing tricks on me again? Am I about to run through the statues chasing a phantom like I did the night before?

The shadow remains unmoving and, slowly, I turn my head to face my fear and stumble back. It’s not a phantom, but a real man. He is nearly unrecognizable if not for the eyes. The green eyes that mirror my own bear into me and that easy, effortless smile I’d recognize anywhere shines in his adult face.

“Hello, Tori. I’ve missed you.”

“Alasdair,” I gasp. This is not the withered, deranged creature I found hiding in the darkness of the Archweaver’s estate. My brother is robust, healthy, his bright blond hair glowing in the mist. His skin is flawless without a hint of stubble, his green eyes bright and aware. Though I am tall for a woman, Alasdair was always considered short for a man since we are the same height. But he makes up for it in muscle. His mother’s lineage is credited for that.