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And across the theater, so faint I might have imagined it, August’s empty eyes flickered toward the orchestra seats.

Toward me.

CHAPTER 14

LILY

“One Weaver’s erasure demonstrates power,” Elias said, his voice carrying easily through the hall. “But five?” He let the silence build. “That demonstrates dominion.”

He stopped beside August, who stood motionless in the center of the stage.

“Five Weavers,” Elias said. “Erased in the span of a heartbeat. This is the future of England’s safety.”

The crowd murmured approvingly. Eager. Hungry for the spectacle.

A wisp of smoke curled out from the wings. Then another. Black tendrils snaked through every crack, every gap in the backdrop. Garrick’s fire, right on cue.

Heat roared behind the curtains. Smoke billowed into the hall in choking waves.

Someone screamed “FIRE!” and the room shattered into chaos. Three hundred aristocrats surged toward the exits, shoving, trampling, panic rippling outward through the crowd. Exactly the confusion we needed.

Beatrice’s suppression slammed into August’s magic. Even from my seat, the collision shuddered through me—power crashing against the pendant’s corruption. The pendant’s sickly light flickered. August’s hand, which had been rising toward the five women, wavered.

It was working. Beatrice was doing it.

Hunters moved through the chaos, scanning the fleeing crowd, trying to maintain order even as smoke billowed from backstage.

Through the stampede I saw Adeline fighting against the tide, moving toward the wings where the women were held. Determination carved across her face. I shoved past flailing gowns and splintered chairs, trying to reach the front.

Smoke cloaked us—beautiful, chaotic cover. No one noticed as we moved with purpose. Garrick’s blaze was perfect, contained enough to hide us, fierce enough to force evacuation.

I was almost to the front now. Almost close enough to reach August once the pendant's hold fully broke.

But Elias was still on stage.

We'd never expected that. The plan had assumed he'd step back once the demonstration began—retreat to the wings to observe. That's what showmen did. They presented their marvels and let them speak for themselves.

Not Elias. He stood beside August like a handler with a prized dog. Ready to intervene the moment something went wrong.

Which meant grabbing August wouldn't just require breaking through the pendant's hold. It would require getting past his father first.

Elias’s face twisted. He crashed a hand onto August’s shoulder. And power flooded from father into son—dark, vast, the full force of the Unraveler channeling through his weapon.

The pendant flared blinding bright.

Beatrice’s suppression shattered.

“Now,” Elias hissed.

August’s magic exploded outward.

The golden threads of five lives—visible now in the haze of smoke—began to unravel. Turned from gold to ash, crumbling away strand by strand.

Get to August. That was the plan. The fire, the chaos, Beatrice's suppression—all of it was to give me the window to grab him and run.

But five women were dying right in front of me.

I had the power to stop it. Maybe. If I was fast enough. If I could just⁠—