I curled my hand around my nape, still warm from his touch. He’d touched me and I’d felt something much more than a bland pressure. It should be impossible, but it had happened. I hadn’t imagined it.
Question was, what did it mean?
CHAPTER 7
A new world requires a new order. If we are to control the alien threads that are now part of our Weave, then equality cannot be the way forward. The most able must be given the greatest share of power, and if that means an amalgamation of covens, then so be it.
GRISELDA BLACKMORE (ARCANUM IMPERIUM ADDRESS, 35 A.O.)
It didn’t take long for me to conclude that my body’s reaction to Vitra was in my head. I’d imagined the feelings because his presence was so potent, that was all. I was cursed and pleasure was off the table, that was a fact.
Unpacking took less than ten minutes because I’d traveled light. I’d brought only one outfit change, my comfy PJs, a small bag of toiletries, my cryptozoology journal, and the box from under Mother’s bed. The voice of doubt in my head whispered that I was being premature in settling in. That I might not be allowed to stay, and as always, I told it to take a hike.
But as soon as I silenced the doubt, another part of me questioned this entire idea—what was I doing, coming here, putting my life on the line for a truth that might not even exist?
Dharma’s journal entries ended after she wrote to say she was headed to the vault. Nothing but aging blank pages, which suggested that she’d never made it back.
Coming here and locking myself in these wards was more dangerous than I’d admit—but this cage was nothing compared to the one I’d lived in all my life. A cage built by a lie that the upper echelons of supernal society had woven for my family.Whywas the biggest question. One that had burned a hole in my mind ever since I read Dharma’s fractured account. And yes, she might have been mad, delusional even, but my ever-reliable gut screamed at me that she wasn’t.
Now all I needed to do was gain admission and find the proof that she’d been searching for so I could expose the Arcanum Imperium and get justice. Revenge. Something for every Onyx that had come before. I could use that power to finally bring Sterling Damascus to his knees. I could demand his head as retribution.
The risk was worth the reward.
I couldn’t regret coming here. I did, however, regret bringing only one change of clothes, since my traveling outfit was covered in mud. I doubted that Darla would be able to get it back to me by morning. I’d have to wear the extra outfit to the meeting tomorrow. At least the bathroom had a tub, so I could soak before bed tonight. And once they gave me official admittance, I’d see about getting hold of some more clothes.
A sharp rap sounded on the door followed by hushed, heated whispers. Were the Unwoven back? Vitra had instructed me not to leave these quarters, but he hadn’t said I couldn’t fraternize. Besides, I wanted to know what Unwoven were.
Another knock.
“Maybe she isn’t here yet,” an irritated female voice said.
“She was seen,” a man replied.
“There are muddy footprints,” another female voice said.
I yanked open the door, and the three whisperers jumped back. Two women and a man.
“Hi,” one of the women said. “I’m Clary, and this is Dori and Benedict. We wanted to welcome you to Bramble.”
There was something about her that put me immediately at ease. Maybe it was the big smile set into a heart-shaped face, or maybe it was the warmth in her big brown eyes.
Dori rolled her heavily made-up eyes. “You sound like the prima incantors. This isn’t a holiday resort, and no onewantsto be in Bramble.”
Clary’s eyes lit up. “But you do,” she said to me. “You’re here because you want to be.”
“Which leaves us wondering how mad you are,” Dori added.
“Dori!” Clary admonished. Then to me, “We don’t think you’re mad.”
“Speak for yourself,” Dori muttered.
While Clary was short and curvy, Dori was tall and svelte, her shoulder-length hair parted to one side, partially obscuring one eye to give her a sultry air. She had the voice to match, that slight drawl that said,I know I’m gorgeous, so you’ll stop and listen to me no matter how slowly I speak.
“We heard the tram was attacked,” Benedict said, wandering over to the sofa. “Go on, spill. What happened?” He stretched out his wiry frame on the longest sofa, tucked his arms behind his head, and surveyed me with kohl-rimmed eyes beneath messy dark hair. “Mudarks and Echoes, right?”
Three more people treating me like I didn’t have the plague. Interesting.
I stepped into the sitting room. “News does travel fast here.”
