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He thought about that, staring at his chart. “Coincidence? Every point is in the same position.”

I let out a huff of laughter. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’ve made another discovery. But let’s get back to the spell. Okay?”

He nodded and put the chart back on his desk.

Finally, I took a seat at the center of the ward and laid my grimoire on the floor beside me. It was time to give the final blessing. I removed my wand, ready to recite the words, when a gust of wind rattled the balcony doors, blowing hard enough to fling them open and flip the pages of my grimoire.

When the pages stopped turning, the summoning spell I’d written was staring up at me.

“How—?” I started, a question forming between my brows. Last I remembered, the spell had been in my pocket. I frowned and flipped it back to the right page.

Adrien went to close the doors, but before he could get them latched, another breath of wind came, and the wind flipped the pages again. Annoyed, I put the lead box on the book to hold it in place.

Della hopped down from her perch on the desk. “Another round!”

Adrien finally latched the door and pointed to a sigil. “Aren’t those supposed to be pointing the other way?”

I stopped and looked where he was pointing, and found that he was right. They’d been flipped. “I must have copied the pattern backward by mistake.”

I swept the incorrect symbols away with my sleeve and redrew them facing the balcony.

“Good catch,” I told Adrien, feeling foolish.

How could I have made such a novice mistake? First the coin in my pocket, now this? I shook my head to clear my thoughts, but when I looked back down at the ward by the balcony doors, the symbols were facing inward again.

My breath stilled, and I glanced toward the box that was sitting on top of my grimoire. If Adrien didn’t believe in coincidence, neither should I.

Della’s neck feathers raised and she let out a loud squawk.

I pressed my fingers into my temples. Between the squawking and the tapping and the sigils flipping, my patience was wearing.

“It’s all right,” I told her tersely. “I’m going to fix it now.”

I leaned forward to redraw the symbols and found a carpet tack sitting between the flipped lines. We must have missed it when we cleared the rug away. I reached to pick it up, then stopped with my hand hovering above the floor.

I knew I ought to move it before one of us was hurt, but my attention lingered on it, and I found myself wondering how much it would hurt. The thought came with a flicker of anticipation that made me draw my hand back.

I rubbed at my temples again. I needed to calm down. All I had to do was fix the markings.

My hand trembled when I raised it again. I held it there, trying to make myself reach over the tack and return to my work. For a moment, I thought I would.

Then I slammed my palm down.

I shrieked and jerked my hand back, cradling it against my chest as pain shot up my arm. Why had I done that? I stared at the floor, horrified to see a smear of blood across one of the reversed markings. My palm must have brushed the salt as I pulled away.

Red light flared where my blood had touched. It raced along the lines, following their curves and branching at each intersection until the entire design burned crimson. Before I’d managed to correct the markings, I had charged them with my own demon blood.

I slapped my bloody hand through the outer line, trying to break it, but it was just adding more blood. The light traveled through every branch of the design and ignited the remaining symbols one after another. Each candle flared as the magick raced past it.

“Della!” I shouted, and my familiar understood. She landed on Adrien’s shoulder, ready to protect him.

When the lines were fully charged, I realized every outward-facing mark had been turned toward the center of the room. Toward me.

The protection ward had become a cage.

“Miss Ravenwood?” Adrien whimpered.

“Everything is going to be alright,” I told him, forcing calm into my voice. “You’re outside the circle. Just walk toward the door with Della and go directly to your father.”