It was enough to sate our master as he prowled the chamber. Enough to weaken the walls around us so we could cast our presence deeper within them, use the magic we were once gifted in long forgotten ways.
We were all pushing boundaries now to see, to hear, to learn anything that went on beyond our terrain. And though I feared the moment he’d change his mind on our restraints, I had remembered something with that ripple of power: He needed me.
He needed the girl, and he could not get her without me.
I was a key.
Or perhaps she was the key, and I the lock.
Regardless, no matter my prior missteps, fate had given me a safety net. The old mist’s wicked humor found loophole after loophole in this world of unbalanced magic, seeking to restore order, and I would thank her for this one if I ever met her.
I drew up to the Angelglass, running a golden hand over its cracked surface, promises pouring into me. It had not shone since the ripple, had not depicted any hint of what she was doing.
Locks and keys, the roles we were fated for, the multitudes ofendings played out in my head. One thread of fate withdrawn from the womb meant a distorted tapestry. It would still fulfill a purpose, but at what cost? Who could say?
“Damien,” our master muttered.
I pulled myself from my thoughts to see the fogged glass clearing slightly, wanting to show us something.
My brothers and sisters gasped, hushed questions filling the chamber.
Faces swarmed through. All faces that surrounded the Chosen Child. All holding answers to be pieced together. Hints as to what keys turned the locks.
This mirage wasn’t a current moment—it was a prediction. I knew from the way the image rippled and pulled at the edges as though a veil was draped across what could be.
“He has—” Blood poured across the image, cutting off Bant’s outburst.
“The stars can’t tell her,” Valyrie whispered unconvincingly as crimson faded to a lavender haze.
And that was replaced by a burst of light. A tangle of two opposing threads, warring within an iridescent ring and bouncing off marble. Statues shattered. Leaves and brush and petals whirled through the air. A dagger flashed in the middle of it all.
“Is she?—”
The light refracted off the weapon, filtering through the glass to actuallytouchus.
And then, it went dark.
A low hiss filled the room as the Angelglass smoked. Tendrils wafted through the chamber, across faces that had only once before been stunned as they were now.
And I once again felt that fear. Perhaps we would be undone after all.
Part Three
Atropos
Chapter Forty
Malakai
For weeks,I’d tried not to think about how much I’d fucked up when fighting Tolek. His capture made the guilt worse, and I could only handle so much of that.
Now that he was back, that I’d seen Ophelia’s plan had worked and they’dbothreturned safely, I felt like an even bigger fool for not trusting her or understanding why she had to go.
It was regret that warred within my stomach when I located him atop the highest turret in the palace, settled above the afters lounge. Alone and contemplating, his eyes flashed between the journal in his hand and the expansive world stretching before us.
Standing beside him, stomach in knots, I waited until he was done writing, wondering what conflict was causing his silence, as I figured out what to say.I’m sorrywas too small for the way I’d acted.I’m glad you’re okaytoo simple for what he’d been through. He stiffened as I shifted, and though the physical bruises from his time captured were gone, I imagined the imprints left beneath the skin. I knew better than anyone how deeply the real wounds would last. These scars were something we now shared. Maybe they’d form a bridge over my mistakes.
Finally, Tol closed his journal and set it on the floor beside his feet. “Are you going to hit me?” he asked, running his hand over the Vincienzo dagger that had been returned to his belt. He was dressed in formal pants and shirt, the sleeves cuffed at the elbow. We didn’t have long before we were expected in the ballroom.
