There was one last thing they had to do.
Corwin closed his eyes. The battle was over, but he would not live to see how the war ended. The shadows curled closer, whispering his name.
And this time, he did not resist.
Chapter
One
The acrid tangof scorched magic clung to the workshop, the stench of burning aether stinging Araya’s nose and making her eyes water. She ignored it, steadying her hand as she etched the final rune into the pendant’s silver housing.
Her own power simmered inside her, pulsing in her blood and bone as naturally as her heart beat. The shard of fae bone hummed under her fingertips in response, eager to drink in her magic. She needed to be careful here—bone was one of the better amplifiers, but the Arcanum only allotted a sliver of the precious resource for its foot soldiers. Too much, and the shard would shatter. Too little, and it would be useless to the mage it was meant to serve.
Neither failure was an option.
The Arcanum would never renew her waiver if she wasted their materials—and without it, she had no future at all. Not one she could endure.
"Freyn’thara, ly’ithra," she whispered, her heartbeat picking up as the tiny rune tattooed at the base of her thumb heated. Holding her breath, she used her forceps to carefully nudge the sliver of bone into place before threading a tendril of her own power into it.
For one heart-stopping moment, the pendant trembled under her fingertips. The dissonant whine of compressed aether sliced through the air, setting her teeth on edge. Humans couldn’t even hear it, but the sound made every hair on the back of Araya’s neck stand up as she grappled with the flow of power, adjusting it with practiced precision.
Finally, with a shudder, it yielded. The screech softened into a low, discordant hum, and the runes she’d carved into the housing holding the shard dimmed. Araya only released the breath she was holding once they had faded completely, sliding the finished amplifier across the workbench.
“Was that your last one, Adept Starwind?” Master Carrow asked from his desk. He didn’t look up, his pen scratching faintly as he worked.
“Yes sir.” Araya slumped on her stool, her back screaming from the hours she’d spent hunched over her workbench. They were alone in the communal workshop, all the others long gone. She was first in and last out—again.
“How many was that, today?” Carrow rose, crossing the workshop to inspect her work.
“Thirty, sir.” Araya held her head high as the Master glanced at her sharply, not working very hard to hide her pride. It was a new record—even for her.
Carrow picked up one of the amplifiers, rolling the pendant between his fingers before testing it. It flared in response, its glow sharp and strong. But the magic itself felt sluggish, lacking the fluidity that came naturally to fae. Human hands could wield magic, but only with help. That’s why Araya worked here, in a workshop alongside other fae deemed trustworthy enough to craft and imbue the amplifiers humans needed to wield the power they craved.
“No one else manages that many in a week,” Carrow mused, his voice tinged with rare admiration. “And your quality is impeccable, as always. The Arcanum discovered a hidden asset when they granted your waiver, Adept Starwind.”
“Thank you, sir.” Araya didn’t let herself smile, but warmth rose in her chest. She didn’t know a single other fae who had risen to the rank of Adept—the highest someone like her could attain. She wouldn’t have been able to do it herself without Jaxon’s help, even if he had abandoned her when it counted most.
A sharp pang settled under her ribs. This role—menial as it was—was a privilege for her. But she might not even have this for much longer. Her cycle had finally started at twenty-eight years old—late, even for a fae. She had reported it as required, filing for her extension at the same time.
That was six months ago.
Carrow placed the last of her amplifiers into the velvet bag, cinching it closed with a practiced flick of his wrist. Araya watched, swallowing her nerves as she steeled herself to speak.
“Sir…about my waiver—” she hesitated, but pressed forward when Carrow paused to glance up at her. “Have you heard anything?”
“The Arcanum has no shortage of petitions to review,” Carrow said. He tucked the bag into his case, carefully securing her day’s work. He watched her for a heartbeat, then sighed, his expression softening. “It doesn’t go unnoticed, Adept. Your hard work—your dedication. I’m certain they see that.”
Araya forced a small smile, lowering her gaze. It didn’t matter if it was noticed—not if they took everything from her anyway. At any moment, the Arcanum could strip her of everything she’d worked so hard for. They would tell her she had served well and now it was time to do her duty to the New Dominion. And then they would send her away—to a life she wanted no part of.
“You’ve done everything you can, Adept,” Carrow said. He gave her an almost sympathetic look. “It’s up to the Arcanum now.”
That wasn’t comforting.Nothingwould be comforting until she had confirmation that she wouldn’t end up like the others—her magic stripped away and her worth reduced to what power she could bring to whatever human mage the Arcanum deemed a goodmatch for her bloodline. That was all most fae females were worth to them.
But Araya had spent her whole life showing them she was useful, proving she was worth keeping. It had to be enough.
“Thank you, sir.” Araya forced a bitter smile as Carrow gathered his things. “Happy Ascendancy.”
Carrow sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he studied her. “Araya…Are you walking home alone tonight?”
